Page 53 of Loathing My Boss
“What are the options that you’re struggling with?” Crimson asks.
“Yes, or no.”
A slight tilt of surprise edges her voice. “You’re consideringyes?”
“I’m considering thatyeswould be to not say an immediateno. It would be to trust, even for a moment, that this isn’t a prank. But…” I squeeze my eyes shut, block out the elegance surrounding me. “I don’t know how I’d get past the guilt or even begin to explain myself. If he’s managed to like me after everything I’ve done, Crim… I…I’m scared now to lose that if I reveal exactly how much more terrible I am. It feels like…no one else couldpossiblyever, ever, ever,everthink about me in such a way. Then, also, he doesn’t deserve anything I’ve been doing to him. None of it. We had a workshop today.” It hurts to swallow. “He critiqued everyone exactly the way he critiqued me ten years ago. Not a single word of encouragement. Just a list of things to correct. Cruelly and bluntly delivered. Without disgust or emotion. I wasn’t singled out. He wasn’t being mean. He’s a good, kind, consistent, genuine person, and I’m…I’m not good enough for him.” I don’t think I’m good enough for anyone.
“Isn’t that his decision to make?”
“But IknowI’m not good enough.” I rest my headagainst the steering wheel. “I know it. I’m terrible, and he’s kind. If nothing else, he iskind. What if I give him a chance, and what if his kindness covers me, but I’m too messed up to know how to love him? What if I can’t like him like that? What if I don’t know how to be kind enough to anyone in order to even pretend to love them? What if I string him along, and I justcan’t?”
“But what if you can?” Her soft words reach into my soul. “What if he forgives you for everything? What if he’s honored to learn how much he meant to you? What if the fact you loved the pieces of his work so much that his rejection sent you off the edge is proof that—right now—the only thing keeping you from loving someone else is your inability to accept that it’s okay to love yourself? Even when you are the kind of person who feels hate just as deeply as love.”
I just don’t know anything anymore.
When Crimson tells me she has to go because her father is calling, I pull myself out of my car, head to the front door of the mansion, and trail down the quiet halls toward Viktor’s bedroom.
Light from the windows that circle his bed pours sun across the tan furniture and dark wood. His desk sits against the far wall, with its two large monitors and the gaming chair Kyran said would beperfect for his lumbar supportwhen I was researching better options than what he had before. My desk… My desk rests in the other corner. Familiar. Present. Far enough away from him that I’ve tolerated it for two years. Closer than it has ever needed to be.
“Vikt—oh.”
Startling, I turn to find Zakery with his hand on the door knob. The silver buttons of his high-neck black jacket wink in the sunlight as he smiles.
With grace, he glides his fingers through the longer strands of his wisping hair, pulling the ebony away from his right brow. “Sorry, Crisis. I thought you were Viktor again. I wanted to talk to him about some final budget details for Sunny Con. I can’t thank you enough for the template you made me for it.”
Feeling hollow, I echo, “Viktor…again? He’s been home since the writer’s retreat started?”
“He stopped by two nights ago. I saw the car lights from my bedroom window, so I came down to make sure everything was okay.”
Viktor was here two nights ago?
“He said he had to print something, everything was fine, and he’d kill Kyran later.” A glimmer of knowing mischief settles into Zakery’s eyes as he adjusts a cuff. “Now, naturally, I told him I had no idea at all what he was talking about.” Those chilling grey irises of his fix on me. “Unrelated, how are things going with my big brother?”
I shiver. “Does everyone know?”
“Does everyone know what? That you hate him, or that he loves you? Because no. Of course not. You both are as discreet as a marching band.”
I flinch.
“I’ve found your antics very charming. Just for future notice, however, the next time you give a pep talk to a cat about leaving dead mice on someone’s pillow, do it in an unused hall, not the one with my bedroom.”
My face heats, and I bunch my hands against my thighs. Someone overheard that nonsense with Ender?Zakeryoverheard that nonsense with Ender? Ibartered. I said I’d buy him wet food. I suggested—when he mewed pitifully, asking for me to put him down—that he drives ahard bargain, and I’d give him wet foodevery weekif he’d just do this for meonce.
My insanity in this household is well-known?
Somebody kill me.
“Also, obviously, unrelated…” Zakery braces his shoulder against the door jamb and tilts his head against it. “…but what led you to hateViktorof all people? Lukas is the maniac among us. Kyran’s, well, you know. Apeach. And then there’s me.” His teeth show. “I’m way easier to hate than sweet ol’ Viktor.”
Truth be told, I don’t think any of the Bachelor brothers are entirely easy to hate. Not anymore. Even Lukas is charmingly demented. I find a sort of solidarity in watching his flamboyant, rough insanity unfold.
“Don’t want to tell me?” Zakery prompts, coolly.
“I’d rather not,” I whisper, voice strained as I drop my attention to the floor.
Gentle, almost brotherly, he asks, “Did you run away from him? Did something happen that made you run?”
My eyes squeeze shut. “I hate the unexpected. I didn’t know what else to do. I just had to getaway.”
