Page 132 of Beyond the Lines
“So you thought, what? That you’d spare my feelings bylying to me?” A bitter laugh escapes Mike’s throat. “I don’t need to be coddled, Lea, not like you do…”
My eyes widen in shock at his words, and I hear Em suck in a breath beside me, inching closer. “That’s not fair, Mike…”
“Really?” He scoffs. “Because that’s not what I saw this summer.”
My stomach drops. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean that guy dumped you, and you fell apart completely.” His words come out fast, sharp like knives. “Mom called me in a panic because you wouldn’t stop crying. Dad said you wouldn’t eat. They were bothworriedabout you, Lea. And who had to pick up the pieces?”
Em shifts uncomfortably beside me, but I barely register her presence now. All I can feel is the burning in my chest, the lump forming in my throat. Mike, my biggest ally in the world, has just turned against me and done so in the most hurtful way possible.
“I thought…” My voice falters. “I thought you helped me because you wanted to. Because you were worried about me too.”
Mike sighs, scratching the stubble on his chin. “Of course I was worried. But Jesus, Lea. It was just a guy. A summer fling. A six-week fuck fest before you’re back to reality. But you made it into this whole—” he gestures dramatically, like a stage performer making some grand statement “—epic tragedy.”
Each word is like a dagger. All this time, I thought Mike was the one person who understood, who saw my pain as legitimate. The betrayal cuts deep, slicing through the illusion that at least one member of my family doesn’t think I’m an emotional wreck.
“You know what?” I steady myself against the counter. “You sound exactly like Mom and Dad right now.”
“Maybe they’re right.” Mike’s voice softens slightly, but the damage is already done. “You always do this. You feel everything so intensely, read more into situations than you should. Just like with Chris. And just like what’s going to happen with Declan after a few more weeks or months.”
I say nothing. By now, the cheese on our abandoned nachos has congealed into a sad, rubbery mass. I stare at it, fighting back tears, although I’m not sure whether it’s sadness or fury that’s causing it.
“Look, I get it.” Mike lets out a long sigh, his tone shifting to something almost patronizing. “You’re in college, you want to have your little romances. But Declan’s not the guy for you, because hockey players have it in their DNA to fuck and move on. And I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
I straighten up, meet his eyes directly, deciding that my emotions right now aredefinitelyfury. “That’s not your decision to make. And if things go south with Declan—which they won’t—I won’t come crying to you. You’ve made it clear that it was a huge chore, so don’t worry about having torescueme again.”
“Fine,” Mike says, the word clipped and cold. “But when he breaks your heart, remember I tried to warn you.”
“He’s not going to break my heart.”
Mike just stares at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he turns and walks out, the door slamming behind him with enough force to make the microwave rattle. And the silence that follows is deafening.
I stand frozen in place, staring at the closed door. My hands squeeze the edge of the counter so tightly my knucklesturn white. I don’t realize I’m crying until Em’s arms wrap around me.
“Hey,” she says softly. “You OK?”
“I’m fine,” I say, even as tears stream down my face. I wipe them away with the back of my hand, annoyed at my body’s betrayal. “He’s just being… Mike.”
Em’s eyes are full of concern, but she doesn’t call me on the obvious lie. Instead, she gives me a squeeze. “Those nachos are beyond saving, but I’ve got emergency chocolate in my desk drawer, and if you ask really nicely I might even give you the last cider.”
I shake my head, already reaching for my phone. “I need to go.”
“To Mike?” Em asks, releasing me from her embrace.
“No.” I pull out my phone, and see there’s a dozen messages and calls. “Shit.”
“What?” Em leans in close.
“Declan.” I give a happy-sad smile. “He tried to warn me.”
Em nods, understanding instantly. “Want me to come with you?”
“Thanks, but no.” I take a deep breath. “This is something I need to do alone.”
I need to be with someone who doesn’t make me feel like my emotions are somehow wrong or excessive. Someone who looks at me and sees strength, not fragility. Someone who loves me exactly as I am, anddamnwhatever anyone else says about it… or us.
“Tell him I said hi,” Em says with a small smile. “And that if he hurts you, I know seventeen ways to make a death look like an accident.”
