Page 78 of North

I plop into it with a huff, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. “Did you have to be so dramatic? And why couldn’t you wait until a decent time to get me up?”

“It’s almost fucking noon, Farren,” he says incredulously. “And I don’t have time for you to decide to stop sulking and hiding away from all your problems. I’ve got shit to do and a life to lead, and I can’t do it while you’re hiding in your room like a brat.”

My jaw drops. He’s really pissed and not pulling any punches.

He leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his eyes boring into me. “I want to know what the hell happened last night. Why did you freak out? And why are you so determined to screw things up with North?”

My grip tightens on the mug. “It’s none of your business.”

“The hell it isn’t,” Rafferty shoots back, his voice rising. “You’re my sister. Of course it’s my business. And it’s our parents’ business too. We’ve spent years watching you run away from your problems and never living up to your potential. I’m done tiptoeing around you, Farren. You’re going to tell me what’s going on and why you fail at everything you ever try.”

I glare at him, hurt and humiliated to have my failures called out so coldly. He’s never done that. My parents either and it’s humbling.

Still, I take the defensive. “You don’t get to lecture me.”

“The hell I don’t.” He says, his voice hard. “You’ve got these walls up so high and so thick, no one can get through. And last night, you lost it over a stupid bet—”

“It wasn’t stupid!” I snap, cutting him off.

“Then explain it to me!” he fires back. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re throwing away the best thing that’s ever happened to you, and for what? Some vague excuse about not wanting to be tied down? That you only do casual? That’s bullshit, Farren. And you know it.”

My jaw clenches as I stare at the dark surface of my coffee. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“Yes, you do,” Rafferty counters. “I’m your brother. I’ve spent my whole fucking life protecting you, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here and watch you self-destruct without a fight.”

I shake my head, biting back the emotions threatening to spill over. But Rafferty doesn’t let up.

“Who hurt you?” he asks, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. “Because I know someone did. Someone messed you up so bad you can’t trust anyone, and I want to know who it was. What happened?”

“Stop,” I whisper, my throat tight.

“No,” Rafferty says, shaking his head. “Not until you tell me. Was it an ex? Someone at work? At school?”

The last word makes my chest seize.School. The memory crashes over me like a wave, dragging me under. The laughter, the humiliation, the shame—it all comes rushing back, vivid and raw.

“Farren,” Rafferty says. “Talk to me.”

I slam my mug down on the table, the sound sharp and jarring in the quiet kitchen as coffee sloshes over the edge. “Fine!” I snap, my voice trembling. “You want to know? Someone hurt me. Very badly. In high school. Happy now?”

Rafferty stares at me, his expression a mix of shock and horror. “Were you…?”

Silence between us.

“Raped?” I say, because I can see he can’t bring himself to finish the question. I shake my head. “Not my body, but sometimes it feels like my soul was.”

I can see the fight drain out of him, replaced with a deep well of empathy. A flame of fury on my behalf starts to brew in eyes that look just like mine. “What happened?” he asks quietly, but man… so very deadly. Like he could murder someone right now.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s done.”

“It does matter because it just cost you a guy I’m pretty sure would cherish you the rest of your life,” hesays, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. “Surely you know that, right?”

God, do I know that? In the bright light of day, away from the beers last night and the voices laughing at me, it seems perhaps I overreacted. I know for sure that North isn’t the type who would intentionally hurt me—am I going to throw something away because I gotunintentionallyhurt?

When I don’t say anything, Rafferty sighs. “Look, North will listen to your fears. If you’re honest with him, he’ll forgive your brattiness.”

“Yeah, I know. Because he’s a good guy. I get it. But it doesn’t take away this…” I tap where my heart sits. “This anxiety that’s deep inside me. Nor the fact that apparently I get triggered.”

“Then again, I am begging you, tell me what happened. Let it out. Release it so it doesn’t eat you alive. Hell, I’ll get you into a therapist this afternoon, but whatever it is, it’s time to address it.”

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