Page 88 of Bitter When He Begs

“It’s not like that,” I argue, following him as he turns away. “You don’t know what it’s been like with him. He—he’s trying. He’s done everything to get better and—”

“And that suddenly makes everything okay?” Nate whips back around, eyes narrowed. “You think because he’s sorry, that erases the fact that he spent weeks making you feel like garbage? That he played mind games with you? You think I’m just supposed to forget that shit?”

“No,” I say quickly, desperate now. “No, I don’t think that. I just… I see the good in him, Nate. I see the parts of him that no one else does.”

“Yeah?” he asks, voice flat. “Well, forgive me if I don’t want the person who means the most to me being someone’s fucking redemption arc.”

That hits harder than it should, and I stagger back a step, my throat thick, my fingers twitching at my sides. “You think that’s all I am to him?”

Nate exhales hard, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t know, Sage. I don’t know what to think because you kept me in the dark. And now I’ve gotta sit back and hope this isn’t just another version of him breaking you in a new way.”

“I’m not broken,” I say, but it comes out weak. I feel my phone vibrating in my hand and look at the screen, see it’s Luca, and slide it into the pocket of my jeans.

He looks at me again, this time softer, but still hurting. “You don’t see it, but I do. You’re walking around like everything’s perfect, but your smile’s tight, and your eyes look like you haven’t slept. I know you, Sage. Better than anyone. You’re my brother, for fuck’s sake, and I can see you’re not okay.”

I wrap my arms around myself. “I just… I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You didn’t,” he says after a long pause, but the way his voice cracks at the end makes it feel like I might’ve anyway. “But I can’t pretend to be okay with this, not right now.”

The silence that falls between us this time feels different.

It feels final.

Not in a permanent kind of way, but like we both know we’re stepping into something we can’t walk back from right away. Like we’ve crossed into unfamiliar territory where nothing fits the way it used to.

Nate runs a hand through his hair, his mouth tight. “I need space.”

My chest seizes. “Okay.”

He nods once and walks away, and I let him. Even if I want to chase after him, even if I want to fix this right now, I know that wouldn’t be fair.

I stand there for a long time after he’s gone, my heart still pounding, my hands shaking, wondering how something that felt so good yesterday could hurt this much now.

I pull out my phone, my thumb hovering over Luca’s contact.

I don’t call him.

Not yet.

Instead, I sit on the edge of the nearest bench and stare at the cracked concrete, the wind ruffling my hair, and I let myself feel every ounce of what I’ve been trying to pretend wasn’t coming.

Because maybe relationships aren’t supposed to be simple. Maybe it’s supposed to be this raw, this messy, this goddamn painful.

But it still doesn’t make losing your best friend hurt any less.

Luca

Idon’tfuckinggetit.

Not completely, anyway.

It’s not like I don’t try to understand, but it’s hard when your boyfriend ducks his head every time someone so much as looks at you too long. When he flinches a little at the sound of whispers. When just being in the same room as me makes him fold in on himself like he's trying to disappear behind that hoodie and those glasses and the peppermint candy always tucked behind his teeth.

I’m not wired like that.

I’ve been in the spotlight since I was fifteen—varsity football, state championships, recruitment interviews, all of it. I was bred for this shit. Cameras don’t scare me. Gossip doesn’t rattle me. Being watched is just part of the game.

Half the time, I lean into it. I know I’m one of the most visible athletes at Blackthorne, maybe the most, and I don’t give a shitwho stares when I press my hand to Sage’s lower back or let my eyes linger on his mouth longer than necessary.

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