Page 89 of Make You Love Me
He barrels on as if they said nothing. “He treated you like you hung the fucking moon.”
“And I took advantage of that.”
“Like a heartless bitch.”
“Damn,” the chorus in the wings sings softly as Jordan shoots out of his chair with a stifled grimace.
“That’s enough,” he yells at Wes, his face flushes with fury. I place a hand on his chest to stop his advance and feel his heart throwing itself against my palm.
“I’m not proud of what I’ve done, you know.” Both men relax a bit, and I drop my hand to take Jordan’s. We have a lot to work through, but I want him to know I appreciate his jumping to my defense. He didn’t have to. His friendship with Wes goes back long before I entered the picture, and it’s not like he said anything that isn’t true.
“I was a bitch,” I agree. “Selfish and cold and rude on a regular basis. I’ve got issues I’m working on, more now than ever. Hate me all you want. Hell, I hate myself.” Straightening and taking a calculated step closer, I point a finger at him. “But that gives you no right to put yourself in the middle of our business and confront me like this. You think you’re protecting your friend—”
“Wes,” Jordan interrupts. “I think you should leave.”
Wes sucks in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he stares through me. “Fine. But there’s nothing either of you could do to change my opinion. He’s too good for someone like you.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” I hold my ground, attempting to keep those words from affecting me again.
Senior year of high school at my boyfriend’s eighteenth birthday party, his mother said that exact phrase to me. It was the first time she told me I wasn’t good enough for her son.Someone like you.I couldn’t care less what she thought of me. Those three little words meant nothing until Tristan agreed with her four months later. He said he loved me countless times. But if he believed, despite his heart, that I wasn’t a good person, itmust be true. I spiraled after that, doing everything I could to prove them right.
It took finding my college acceptance letter in the trash, tossed there by someone who thought I wasn’t worth it, to wake up. After taking a good, hard look at myself, I didn’t like what I saw. I could do and be better. My oppressive upbringing didn’t have to define me or my future if I didn’t let it.
It felt good to set that part of me to flame, allowing a new me to rise from the ashes. But the transformation wasn’t without flaws, I’ve come to realize. Some pieces of that heartbroken girl survived and latched on to the one piece of me I protected the most. All her pain, all her insecurities caused me to do some things that need undoing. Facing the consequences of those actions over the last few days has brought everything full circle.
It’s time to start another fire.
Meeting Wes’s challenge, I latch my gaze onto his to make my final point. “People can change, and you know nothing about me.”
“You’ve shown me all I need to know.”
“Buddy,” Quinton calls from the door.
Wes’s hands fly up, indicating he’s finished with me and strolls toward the door. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he says to Jordan.
The door slams behind him, making me jump. I swivel to Jordan, who’s lowering to the wheelchair as if every muscle aches. “I’m sorry, Jordan.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I shouldn’t have encouraged him.” I sit on the arm of the couch beside him, suddenly drained.
“You look beautiful.”
And there he goes again, destroying all the pressure with his unyielding tenderness. “Thank you.”
“How’d it go?” he asks, searching my face.
“Fine. What games did you guys play? Anything new?”
Ignoring my attempt to redirect the conversation, he circles back. “Did you do anything after dinner?”
“Jordan.”
“Did you kiss him?”
And with that, all the gooey sweetness crystalizes. I rocket to my feet. “Don’t do this.”
He rolls after me as I head to the kitchen, the sound of my boots hitting the hardwood floor and echoing through the quiet apartment.
