Page 59 of Breakout
I don’t want to lie to him about it anymore. I want to tell him the truth. This web we are weaving is becoming too hard.
“I am pursuing someone, and it’s not working out the way I want,” I confess.
“Peyton.” He guesses on the first try.
I want to confirm it, but I don’t.
“It’s not Peyton,” I lie, the words feel like ash on my tongue. I must not sell it because he shoots me a look of disbelief.
He shakes his head, jaw clicking. “Don’t get me wrong, I love her, but this is bullshit.”
“Don’t.”
“No, I’m serious. Everyone can tell there is chemistry between you two. Ever since she came on the scene, you haven’t even looked at another girl. You are always running at her beck and call, no pun intended, yet she feels she’s too good for you? It’s bullshit, and you deserve better.”
Anger fills my veins. He has it all wrong. Peyton doesn’t think she’s too good for me. She is so damaged that she doesn’t believe she deserves love. Hell, I don’t think she thinks she deserves friendship. I think that’s why she still hasn’t told Cora and Grace everything going on in her life right now.
She’s a lone wolf who finally found a pack and has no idea how to handle that.
“Enough,” I hiss.
When he stops, I look around the room, thankful no one seems to be paying attention to us, before looking back at him.
“Whatever is going on with me and this girl I am pursuing is between us. You are my best friend, and I love you, but respectfully, I don’t need your help with this. It’s my mess, and I will handle it. If I need you, I will let you know,” I say pointedly. “As for Peyton, leave her out of this. It’s fucked up you would attack her when she’s not here to defend herself. She’s your friend, Brett.”
Brett shakes his head and scoffs. “I love Peyton, I do, you know that, but come on, man. I’m not blind. I don’t believe this shit. Come on, you’re Beckett fucking Hayes. You could have anyone. Girls would be jumping at the chance to be yours, but instead you’d rather chase someone who would rather keep you their dirty little secret?”
Standing, I lean across the table and get in my friend’s face.
“Keep talking shit, and I’ll lay you the fuck out. You want to point fingers about who’s being weird and doing questionable shit, then look in the goddamn mirror. You’re the poster child for a person acting out.”
“Beck…” He looks guilty.
“Don’t try to deny it now, Brett. You have had an attitude since your accident. It was shitty, and we want to help you, but you closed yourself off. Now you are snapping at me because you have your own shit going on, but you aren’t talking either. So don’t act like this is all about me right now. Turnabout is fair play, and I’ve got your number, and you know it.”
His fist clenches on the table. “It’s fucking hard, is that what you want to hear? That I fucking hate that I can’t play this year with you guys? That this was supposed to be our last hurrah, our going out, but it’s not. Instead, I have to watch from the sidelines on goddamn crutches as you guys do it without me, and I’m fucking jealous. Happy now?”
“No, I’m not happy one of my best friends is struggling, and instead of talking about it, he’s burying it. Does it suck that you can’t play this year? Absolutely. I wish like hell every time we take the ice that you could get out there with us, but that’s not possible. It doesn’t mean it’s the end, though. This doesn’t change our relationship. You’re my brother and always will be. Don’t let this fuck with that.”
We both fall silent, letting our issues settle on the table between us.
“We’re a fucking pair, aren’t we?” he says as he begins to pull his computer out of his bag.
“Shit, that’s the understatement of the century.” I sigh.
I wish I could tell him the truth about Peyton and me. That we are married and how I’m already hopelessly in love with my wife while she thinks it’s merely to help her. That she plans todivorce me when it’s all over with if I don’t convince her that she belongs with me.
It would be nice to have someone to confide in.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Brett stiffen. I follow his line of sight to see what’s got his attention.
Emery.
She’s on the school figure skating team and is an absolute beast in her own right. She’s also the only woman I’ve ever known Brett to keep going back to only to be turned down at every turn.
“How’s her season going?”
“It’s not,” he says, making me frown.
