Page 78 of Dirty Martini
I drop my head on his door, hands braced against the wood as I think through his words. Iknowthere’s nothing wrong with people seeing a therapist, but it seems like something that…
“Elton doesn’t need a therapist.”
“The fuck did you just say?”
“Elton doesn’t need a therapist,” I repeat. Turning around, I flinch at the fury on Rhys’s face. Still, I hold my ground. “He’s perfect. Fucking charming, talented, smart.Normal. He’s?—”
I’m slammed against the door before I know what’s happening. Oxygen leaves my lungs in a rush, whooshing out of me as Rhys pounds his hands on either side of my head. “Don’t ever fucking say that again. You are not Elton.”
“And that’s the problem, right?” My voice cracks at the end, surprising even me. “I’m not him. Not as smart, not as funny, not as strong. I’m just average and ordinary and?—”
With a growl, he pins me back by my shoulders, his grip on me painfully tight. “Where is this coming from?”
“What are we going to tell him, Rhys?”
There. The truth we’ve both tried to push to the back. Elton comes back at the end of next week, and Rhys and I have just been pretending like it isn’t going to happen. Not even that, we haven’t brought it up at all.
I didn’t think it was bothering me until now. But thinking about it, I don’t like the way this is starting to feel like a dirty secret. I keep rationalizing that we haven’t said anything to Elton because it’s just not the time, but how can I be sure of that? He’s Rhys’s best friend and wouldn’t he want him to know?
We’ve made all these plans of moving in together and building something for just the two of us, but how much of that is going to stay true when the greater Hill returns? What if I was just something for him to pass the time until his platonic soulmate came back? How will I ever compare to big fucking Elton in his life?
Rhys drops his hands. He steps away, gulping, and all that fury he felt seems to have disappeared. Opening and closing his mouth, he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose before sighing. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know,” I parrot, hurt stabbing through me at his words.
“Is that what this is about?” He’s softer now as he takes my hand, holding it tight so I can’t yank it away. “Can we sit down?” he questions tentatively. When I don’t move, he tugs me toward him. “Please, Ev. We need to talk about this.”
All my instincts are telling me to run, but the pleading look in Rhys’s dark eyes makes me stay. I follow him to the bed but keep a considerable distance from him. I’m experiencing so much right now—a mix of humiliation, shame, and rage—and I don’t know what to do with any of it.
“Let’s start here. Why are you comparing yourself to Elton?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he studies me.
“How can I not?” I chuckle humorlessly. “He’s everything I’m not. Lacrosse made me special and then it got taken away. You know I’m not smart?—”
“Don’t say that.”
“I’m scared that when he comes back, you’ll realize that you settled for the wrong brother.”
It’s a deeper fear than I realized I had. I can’t believe I was so stupid that for these last few weeks I thought I could ever compete with my brother. That I could somehow be the one people would choose.
I can sense my heartbeat quickening, but Rhys is there in a second, cupping my face before I can get lost in my head. “Everest, listen to me.” He licks his lips, eyes darting nervously between mine. “You are not thewrongbrother. You are special to me, baby.You. I have never thought of Elton that way before and I never will. There’s not even a choice between the two of you.”
“But what if there is?” I cry, reaching for his wrists. “What if Elton gets pissed and makes you choose.”
He shakes his head. “He won’t.”
“But what if he does?”
“Ev, I—” He cuts himself off quickly and curses under his breath. Pulling me closer, he drops his forehead against mine. “There’s not going to be a choice. There doesn’t need to be. You aren’t living in Elton’s shadow because you’re your own fucking sun. Baby, I wish you could see just how one-of-a-kind you are.”
His words flow through me and calm the raging storm. He hasn’t answered the question—what if Elton freaks out—but I guess he did in his own way. When he speaks with such determination and passion, suchmeaning, how can I not believe him?
“Damn, I’m stupid.” I scoff to myself. “I went and got all dramatic?—”
“Don’t pull that whole undervaluing your feelings shit. Not with me,” he insists, wiping away a tear I hadn’t known had fallen with his thumb. “Is this something you’ve been struggling with? Comparing yourself to your brother?”
“Ever since the accident,” I say with a nod. “It’s so?—”
“Don’t fucking say stupid.” Both of us chuckle, and he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me tighter to his side. “I wish I could make it so you didn’t, but I can’t. All I can tell you, Ev, is…”
