Page 29 of Love is Angry

There are so many awful things I’d like to do to him right now. Anything to make him feel at least an inkling of the pain that he has caused me. I thought we were getting somewhere better. I thought I could put the nightmare behind us. I dared not wish for us to be more than distant acquaintances, at best—still better than enemies, yet here he is, insisting on the latter.

“It takes a certain kind of evil to pull something like this off,” I tell Rhue. “Your father may be a monster, but at least he is honest about himself—or he was with me, anyway. But you, you miserable bastard, you can’t cope with your own insufficiencies, and you think tormenting me will make your life better. You pretend to be a decent person, only to deceive and hurt people. What does that say about you? What would your mother think if she saw you now?”

“Keep my mother’s name out of your filthy mouth!” he snarls, pointing a furious finger at me. I scoff and shake my head slowly, no longer impressed.

“You don’t get to call my mouth filthy after all the lies you just served me. You’re pathetic, Rhue Echeveria. You’re worse than Julian. Way fucking worse.”

That hits deep. I can see it on his face. The outrage. The anger. The gradual realization of a hard truth.

I walk away, shaking like a leaf. Sweat seeps into my shirt, and my skin feels loose. I worry I might not make it back to my dorm room in time. My knees are weak. It’s as if everything I am will just melt away and fall off the bones.

My heart was already broken, yet it pangs harder now. The pain is sharper and deeper than ever before, but I know why. I hoped for the best without preparing for the worst. I expected more from a man who clearly does not expect more from himself. Rhue is an incredible human being—strong, intelligent, fierce and inquisitive. But he is also blinded by grief. Desperate to seek someone to take the blame for the gaping hole his mother’s death left behind.

I’m the patsy here.

I never asked for it, though. I never asked for this much pain and anguish.

But I lied just now, too. I lied, because I said he’s worse than his dad. He isn’t. No one I know is worse than Julian Echeveria. No matter how hard Rhue tries, he will never be more evil than his father.

Chapter 13

Back in Highschool: Madison

“Hey, Earth to Madison?”

Coming to the Echeveria mansion is always a whole other experience. I’m permanently rendered tiny and insignificant by the elegant decors and the sumptuous upholstery, the lavish handcrafted wallpapers and the gold-embroidered curtains. Every inch of this place screams of good taste and ridiculous luxury—the kind of stuff I could never afford, not even if I become the world’s leading anthropologist. We don’t study humanity to become financially rich, anyway.

“Yeah, sorry,” I tell Rhue after virtually blacking out on him for a good minute.

This is our umpteenth session together. I’ve lost track, but that’s mostly because I’m no longer myself when I’m with him.

Rhue brings out a new and surprisingly vibrant side of me, this cool and bold Madison who always has a smart comeback for the youngest heartthrob of Rochester. However, there are moments when I’m listening to him talk about a particular subject, and I find myself spacing out, entranced by his sharp eloquence and the discrete dimple that forms whenever he smiles.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I reply, offering an apologetic nod. “It’s my head that’s a mess. I mean, I have a lot on my mind these days, and it’s not getting any easier, either.”

We’ve been working on ancient histories of the Middle East this week, but he knows that’s not what I’m talking about. “Ah. You haven’t decided what college to apply to, huh?” Rhue chuckles. “Welcome to my world, then.”

“I thought you were hellbent on Harvard?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve given it some thought, and honestly, I don’t know. If I strictly follow the hockey criteria, I might miss out on some academic perks.”

“I think I may have rubbed off on you a little,” I reply with a giggle.

I’m the one who insisted that he shouldn’t let the quality of a college’s hockey team be the only defining factor behind his choice. I am impressed that he decided to listen to me. Rhue is not the kind of man to easily go along with advice from other people. He’s the poster child of skepticism, actually. He takes everything with a grain of salt, unless there’s a scientific community consensus to help guide him in the right direction.

And to think his mother is political royalty, while his father is a self-made billionaire who likes pulling arms in Congress. Rhue is the apple that fell about two continents away from the tree. Nevertheless, his last name still keeps me on edge. It’s hard to ignore it. It’s hard not to think of Julian Echeveria and his aggressive politics when I look at his son.

“Nah, but seriously, what’s going on?” he asks again, unwilling to ignore my blanking out moment. My cheeks burn with shame. I’ve been nothing but cool beans around this guy, but now he’s starting to see the chinks in my armor. “You seem worried. Is it really just this college stuff?”

I nod once, though I’m lying. “I can’t take another gap year and at this rate I’m afraid I’ll never make up my mind.”

“You’ve got time until April, though.”

“What if I fail to make my choice before then?”

Rhue shrugs. “Then you take another gap year.”

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