Page 77 of The Beginning and End of Everything
I snort. "And you call yourself Irish, woman." I pick up the mug and swallow a mouthful of hot liquid.
She rolls her eyes. "I'm not Irish.”
"Oh, I know.” I smirk. “Measch.”
She narrows her eyes at me, tossing out some playful banter. “At least I'm not a pikey."
"Don't pretend you don't have a thing for pikey lads," I say, cocking an eyebrow. “You were always hanging around the camp.”
A soft smile touches her lips, and she ducks her head. "Did you never realize I was in love with you for all those years, Brandon?" Her question takes me by surprise, and what feels like a lead weight settles on my chest.
"Don't say that," I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut and gripping the edge of the kitchen island.
"Answer me."
"He loved you. And that was all that mattered."
"And I loved you first. And for years, that was all that mattered to me."
I slam my palm over the worktop. "Fuck, Poppy. What do you want me to say? Yes, I knew you had a crush on me. Yes, I wanted you, but we were kids. I was no good. Iamno good. Connor...he deserved you."
This has lingered between us for years, unspoken but ever-present. Connor buffered it because I would always put his happiness before my own. Every damn time. He was my brother, and I would have given him the world. This is the first time we've put a voice to the great, pink elephant that has always been just in the periphery.
"Is that what it was about?" Her face crumples for the briefest of moments. “What you thought wedeserved?" Her jaw tics, and she pulls in a breath. "Because I'll tell you what I think I deserved. And that was to be loved by the boy I was in love with. To have him acknowledge that he took my virginity, for him to treat me like I was more than just a friend."
She makes me want something I shouldn’t. She is hope, and hope is fatal to a guy like me. When it's gone, there's nothing left. And if we do this, one day she will leave, because I will break her the way I do everything and everyone. I'm just trying to prolong the inevitable, keep her at arm’s length for as long as I possibly can. I drag a hand through my hair. "I would have destroyed you, Poppy."
"Do you not realize that you did anyway?" She shakes her head. "You did anyway."
"And Connor was there to wipe away the tears, to love you. Don’t—" I clench my fists, a wave of anger gripping me in its clutches. “Don’t diminish what you two had.”
Her eyes quickly fill with tears, her cheeks turning a deep red. "Brandon, I loved him. I—”
“Doesn’t sound like it.” I know I’m a dick, but I can’t stand the idea that Connor was nothing more than a stand-in, a band-aid to her heartbreak.
I barely see her move before her palm collides with my cheek. “Don’t you dare. I loved you both!”
I move closer to her until I can feel her rapid breaths over my face. “You were supposed to love Connor more.”
“Fuck you!” She shoves me away, then moves around me.
I grab her by the wrist, and she halts. “I won’t watch you spiral down with me. You’re all I have left.” I speak the words, a broken confession.
She takes a step toward me, her expression angry. “You don't have a choice."
"Is that so?"
She grabs my shirt, jerking me toward her. “I love you. So no, there is no choice, Brandon."
My heart thuds unevenly in my chest, and that age-old longing creeps up. It's selfish and shitty, but I'm starting to lose sight of all the reasons I should stay away from Poppy. I cup her cheek, touching my forehead to hers. "There are only so many times I can do the selfless thing when it comes to you." I tilt my chin, brushing my lips across hers. I crave her like my own personal brand of crack. "It's always been you," I breathe the words I can't fight any longer.
I'm already trapped in my own personal war, and I need her beside me, not standing across the battle lines. I can't help but feel as though this was always inevitable—her and me. No matter how many women I screwed or how perfect Connor was for Poppy, this has always been a twisted form of fate. And I hate that.
For Connor, I hate that.
Poppy presses her small body against mine. My arms come around her waist, and damn, she feels like home.
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