Page 91 of It's Always Been You
I’m shaking my head. “So why was it cracked open to—” I swallow. “Why was it cracked open to the entry about you? Andme? And that night?”
Judging by his audible intake of breath, Brandon knows exactly which night I’m referring to. He sinks onto his couch and rubs his palms up and down his thighs. “Evie,” he starts. “I . . . I can assure you that was nothing but a coincidence. I didnotread your diary.” The conviction in his voice, his eyes, is undeniable.
He’s telling the truth.
Sensing that I’ve dropped my weapons, he stands. He approaches me slowly, reaching out to cup my cheeks. My eyes close as the warmth of his touch slips right past my defenses. The simmering heat of my anger drains from my veins like I’m bleeding it out. “I would never betray your trust like that,” he says, his thumbs caressing my skin. “You know that.”
My eyes open and lock with his. “But you would use me for sex.”
He sucks in a sharp breath and drops his hands. “Evie.”
Hating the warning in his tone, I meet his stunned gaze with a scowl. “Did it really mean nothing to you? That night?”
He glances over my shoulder. “We can’t talk about this right now.”
A tsunami of emotion swells up inside of me. I haven’t spoken a word about our tryst since it happened. Somehow, discussing that night out loud has brought every repressed emotion over it to the surface all at once. My body trembles so hard that my vision blurs.
He grips my shoulders and fights to make eye contact. “Baby. Please. Calm down.”
His insistence on using that pet name makes this so much worse. “So it meant nothing.”
“Of course it didn’t meannothing. But, I—” He pauses, pursing his lips.
His hesitation says it all.
I lower my head and cover my face.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “I . . . I was a different person back then, and—”
What a cop out!
“How could you?” I whirl away from him, unable to look at him anymore. My body burns. Tingles. Thrums. I wish I’d never brought this up. I’m mortified, but I’m also heartbroken and . . . angry. So angry. My fingers curl into fists. “How could you!” I repeat, grabbing my diary from his desk. Calm, cool Eviehas officially left the chat, leaving some kind of crazed harpy in her wake. Unable to control myself, I chuck the diary at the floor as hard as I can. The spine busts against the ground, the entry that haunts me landing wide open for both of us to see.
There’s a part of me that’s hovering six feet above this situation like I’m having an out-of-body experience.ThatEvie knows this is a gross overreaction based on the circumstances.
But the Evie that’s in the driver’s seat? She’s disturbed. And so overwhelmed. Years worth of repressed feelings bubble to the surface all at once; most of them unrelated to this specific moment. My parents’ divorce, my mother’s absence, my father’s neglect, my Grandma’s declining health, my chronic lower back pain—my frustration over it all comes to a blinding head.
“You knew how I felt about you, but you did it anyway.” The words come out surprisingly calm and quiet, like the hiss of a snake. When he doesn’t argue back, my worst fear is confirmed. He used me. “What’s worse is you made me keep it a secret.” I sniffle. “You were embarrassed to be with someone like me. Weren’t you?”
“Evie!” Brandon whispers, grabbing my hand. I shake him off and back up. “No. That’s not it at all.” He steps forward, his arms spread wide like he’s trying to capture me.
I continue backing away. As far as I know, he’s in damage control mode, and he’s only acting like he cares because he doesn’t want the truth to come to light.
But it always does. One way or another.
“Don’t worry,” I spit. “Our little secret is safe with me.”
He grabs my wrist. “Evie, please,” he pleads quietly, a tear slipping down his cheek. Despite everything, my heart aches knowing I’m causing him pain. “There’s still so much we need to talk about.” He lowers his voice. “But wecan’thave that conversation here. Not now.”
He still doesn’t want anyone to know about us. “Don’t worry. I’m not interested in hearing anything you have to say.”
He wipes his lone tear away. “Even after all these years, you still won’t let me explain my side of the story.”
“What is there to know?” I cry, and he winces. “You manipulated me. Youusedme.”
“After all the times I told you I loved you?” he grits out. “How can you think that’s what happened?”
“You lied to me,” I sneer. “You never loved me.”
