Page 38 of The Storm

I’m mostly angry at myself for being an idiot. For being the kind of idiot who doesn’t get the message. I’m angry at myself for being disappointed. Nicholas and I are never, ever going to be anything other than resentful strangers. He won’t let it happen, and I shouldn’t care. I don’t want to care.

Mom sends me a small smile. I hold my arms out, and she hugs me. I’m a head taller than her and for a moment it almost feels like it’s less that I’ve grown taller and more that she’s gotten shorter.

“I’ll talk to him,” I say.

She tilts her head up and looks at me. “You’re sweet. But you focus on you, okay?”

She squeezes my arm and goes back to her list.

I go to the hallway, grab my bag, and settle in to wait for Dia. I’m still scrolling on my phone when I hear the footsteps, but when I look up, it’s not Dia. Instead, it’s Nick, jogging down the stairs.

“Blue,” he says in a mocking tone before he brushes past me and disappears out the door.

I’m not fine with any of it.

I tell myself to let it go.

But I won’t.

The front door shuts behind him.

Disappointment pushes front and center until it’s all I am.

I glance toward the kitchen, and then I’m going after him.

The sky is filled with thick clouds, and the wind makes the temperature feel much cooler than it actually is.

“Hey!” I call out.

He stops and turns around, and if I thought that maybe him helping me out that one time would mean some kind of truce, heclearly hasn’t interpreted it the same way. Now I’m pissed about it.

“Would it really be so difficult to just not be a dick for once?” I ask when I stop in front of him.

He raises his brows.

I wave my hand toward the house. “In there. She’s been nothing but accommodating and nice to you. You know what? Fuck it. We all have.”

“Lucky me,” he says tonelessly.

The emotionless delivery sets my teeth on edge.

“Nobody forced you to live here,” I snap before I make myself breathe in. “I’m sorry things suck right now. And I get that it’s really hard to lose a parent, but?—”

“Do you? How many parents haveyoulost?”

He’s got me there. Still.

“You don’t think I have a shred of imagination or empathy to realize that it might be incredibly difficult?”

“Oh! I feel seen,” he says tightly. “Thanks for that.”

“You’re angry. I get it. You have the right to be angry. And sad. And everything else. Feel whatever you have to feel or want to feel. But you can’t just go around and pour that anger out on people who don’t fucking deserve it. It’s been fucking years. Get over yourself.”

His dark eyes settle on me, and then he’s stalking closer until we’re standing toe to toe. I’ve never felt like he could be dangerous—he hits with words, not fists—but I’m not so sure that’s true in this moment right here.

Then he lets out a short, harsh laugh and steps back. “It’s actually pathetic how little you know about anything.”

He turns around. The car door slams shut a moment later, and then he’s speeding away, leaving me in a cloud of dust, fingers curled into fists, breaths coming out in huffs, shaking from the arrogant dismissal.