Page 50 of Hooked

Tears spring to my eyes and it pisses me off even more. I hate crying in front of people.

Vinny sighs at my tears and I wipe them away angrily.

“Look,” he says, pointing at the bags. “You read too much into these gestures. Into making them and receiving them. Sometimes there isn’t a deeper meaning than someone just wanting to be nice. It’s not a validation of you as person.”

I recoil. That was harsh. I try to keep the tremor out of my voice. “Why are you being so cold?”

He raises his voice a little. “You were so certain that you knew how I felt. Okay, then you should know that I’m not overly sentimental about things. That’s all.”

I hug myself. “Why can’t you see that this isn’t about things? It’s about people. It’s about creating connections.”

“Don’t know how you do that with tree skirts.”

And we’re back to the snide jokes now. His armor is fully in place.

“Don’t freak out just because you let someone get close to you.”

Something in his posture changes. I can feel the anger radiating from him. He obviously prefers to hand out the hard truths, not receive them.

He pushes a hand through his hair. “Who do you think you’re fooling here?” he asks, anger compressing his voice. “You’ve never been close to anyone. You’re too scared. You throw these big glitzy parties and pretend to be happy all the time because you think people won’t like you otherwise.”

Oh fuck no. He doesn’t get to talk to me like this, like he’s got my whole life figured out after just a few days together.

“Bullshit,” I hiss. “You’re the one who’s afraid. Sure, I’m probably a little vain, and I’m too accommodating, and I try to create a welcoming space to draw people in. But at least I’m doing something. At least I’m trying. You hide up here with your goddamn fish and the second you let someone in, it scares you so much that you close right back up again. You retreat behind your snarky comments and know-it-all façade. And for what, Vinny? Life’s too short to spend it avoiding pain. You never struck me as a coward until now.”

His face hardens. He doesn’t like what I’ve said and I don’t fucking care.

“If that’s true then why shut down when your cousins couldn’t get here? You went cold too. Avoiding pain, maybe?”

His smug fucking tone. I want to slap it out of his mouth.

“What was I supposed to do, Vinny? Cry and beg my cousins to leave their dying father and spend the holiday with me instead? That would’ve been selfish and shitty. I didn’t go cold; I just understood that what Murphy needed was more important than what I wanted.” He’s so exasperating.

“Always so noble. Thing is, no one asked you to martyr yourself. And the sacrifices you make come with heavy expectations.”

What the hell does that mean?

This is a waste of my time.

“Must feel great to have everything figured out. Well, you’re right about one thing: I don’t know who you are. But neither do you because you were a different person yesterday. This persona, whoever he is, is holding you back. I wish you all the best in sorting that out.”

Fuck the bags and fuck him. I go to walk around him, and he grabs my elbow. I snatch it out of his grip and glare at him.

“You should take your own advice because this isn’t working for you either.” His eyes are devoid of any of the passion he showed me last night. They’re hollow and cold.

My anger tempers with sadness for him, for the terrorized child who grew up into a lonely man who runs people out of his life to keep from getting hurt again. It doesn’t excuse his behavior right now, but it deflates my righteous indignation.

“Don’t let your past define you,” I say, quietly. “Don’t give up any more of your life to the people who hurt you.”

His eyes go wide, and for a brief second I think I’ve reached him. But the flash of vulnerability I see is quickly replaced with a look of pure malice.

“Oh, come on, Sia.” His voice drips with disdain. “Don’t be a hypocrite. No one is held back by their past more than you. You’re going to spend the rest of your life begging people to love you because you don’t know if Drew, who was obviously one of the few people who actually loved you for who you are, even remembered your fucking name when he died.”

My vision tunnels as pain knifes its way through my stomach. Bile burns at the back of my throat. I need to get the fuck away from him. Now. I stumble forward, doubled over from the cruelty laced in his words.

“I’m sorry. Jesus, Sia. I didn’t mean that. I’m so sorry.” Vinny’s stammering, and he reaches out to steady me.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t fucking come near me.”

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