Page 102 of The Long Way Home
“You don’t get to do that,” she snaps.
I blink. “Do what?”
“Step in. Handle things. Act as if I’m yours to protect.”
“You want to run that by me again?” I challenge.
“I said—” She jabs a finger at my chest. “You’re not my protector, Rhett. You don’t get to make decisions for me.”
I step closer. “I didn’t make a damn decision for you. You were pinned against your car after you asked him to back up. He doesn’t get to touch you like that. I don’t care if he is your boyfriend. You were scared, Rach. I saw it.”
“That doesn’t matter. It wasn’t your place to get involved.”
I laugh once, almost bitterly. “Not my place? His hand was on your wrist so hard it left a fucking mark. His face was inches from yours. What exactly did you want me to do, Sunny, wait until he forced himself on you or hurt you worse?”
Her eyes flare. “I was about to get him off me.”
“Sure you were.”
Her body betrays her, and I watch as her eyes flick down towards my mouth and back up. Could she feel it too? Could she feel the pull, the quiet, steady heat that has been simmering under the surface between us for years?
“Don’t patronize me, Rhett.”
“I’m not, Sunny,” I snap, stepping closer. “I don’t even understand how you’re mad at me right now. I’m not watching you get hurt again. I already did that last week, in case you forgot.”
Her breath comes fast, and her shoulders rise with each inhale. “Oh, really?Baby? What the hell was that, Rhett?” She screams, throwing her hands in the air. “You’ve made it so clear over the last decade of my life that I’m not yours, then stop acting like it.”
“Don’t you think I would if I could?” My voice comes out ragged. I can feel the tension climbing in me, begging me to just tell her how I feel. “Do you think I want to feel like this all the damn time, Rachel? To walk into a room and scan for you without even realizing it? To see you smiling at him and act like it doesn’t gut me?”
Her mouth parts, but I don’t let her speak. She has said enough over the last week and a half, and it is my turn now.
“Do you think it’s fun for me to picture him touching you?” I grind the words out, my fists tight at my sides. “To wonder if he gets the version of you that laughs a little louder when you’ve had a drink? Or the one that curls up on the couch to watch movies?”
Her chest rises and falls so fast I can feel it from where I stand. Her jaw tightens, and the tension in her body mirrors my own. I know I should stop, preserve the friendship, but I can’t stop myself. I don’t want to bejusther fucking friend anymore.
“I have spent every single second of every day convincing myself to let you go,” I blurt out.
Her brows pull together, and she asks, “Why?”
“Why what, Sunny?” I ask, dragging a hand through my hair, pulse hammering against my ribs.
“Why do you care so much?”
I step closer, and her brown eyes stare back into mine. Something cinches behind my ribs.
“Why do you think?”
Her arms drop from their crossed position, fingers curling slightly at her sides. She shifts her weight, and for a second, I see her hesitation. For a fleeting moment, her hesitation feels like agreement, like she is standing on the edge of the same precipice I am.
“Well, maybe I don’t want you to,” she mutters, and the words slip out.
“That’s not how this works,” I offer, motioning vaguely between us.
She steps back until she hits the edge of the kitchen counter. While her eyes never leave mine, I take one step closer to her, closing the space she created.
“You don’t get to care like this if you never plan on doing anything about it, Rhett. It’s not fair to me,” she spits out.
I take the final step forward, as if wanting alone could close the distance between us. I’ve come this far, I’m going to be completely honest with her now.
