Page 92 of It's Always Been You
His face hardens. “If you think I would do something that low, then you don’t know me at all.”
“Then where were you?” I shout. “You told me you loved me, and then you disappeared. Why? Am I not good enough for you?”
His jaw tenses. “Evie,stop.”
I grab the diary off the floor and turn to the door. “I can’t deal with this.”
Brandon’s voice is chillingly tempered as he grabs my wrist. “Don’t you dare walk out on me. I won’t chase you forever.”
I spin back around. “I never asked you to chase me!”
He steps forward, meeting fire with fire. I have never seen him so wound up, and it’s making me question . . .everything. “You didn’t give me a choice! You’ve never given me a chance to explain or redeem myself. So we’ve been running in circles ever since.”
I drop the diary and cover my ears. “Stop lying.”
He pulls my hands away from my head. “No.” Incensed, I whirl for the door, but he intercepts me. “The only person who is lying here is you—to yourself. You know I love you, but you won’t admit it to yourself. I don’t know why. Maybe you don’t want to believe it. Maybe you can’t. I’m not sure which. For years, I’ve tried to have this conversation with you, but you’re always running away—”
“Stop.”
“No. Not this time. We all have our ways of coping with pain, Evie. But this isn’t healthy.”
“How I deal with pain is none of your business.”
“You have to confront the pain to heal from it,” he replies, ignoring me. He grabs my left hand and flips it over. My heart stops as he pushes my sleeve back. “You might not be taking a blade to your skin anymore,” he says, rubbing his thumb across the worst of my scars. Every scar on my body tells a story, andhe knows them all. He has counted each and every one, kissed each with a tenderness no one could fake.
He loves me. It’s undeniable.
“But pushing me away is just another way to run from the pain.”
“Stop,” I whisper, wilting.
He tugs on my hand, and I stumble forward. His voice softens. “I won’t give up on you. Even if there’s never anusagain.That’s not what I’m asking for.I’m only asking for a chance to help you heal. Not just from the pain I caused you, but from the painshecaused you.” He tilts his head, and my eyes fill with tears.
He’s referring to my mother.
“So stop trying to run away from me. Because we’ll just end up here again.”
“Stop.” My voice is so weak it’s unrecognizable.
He continues, relentless. “I love you, Evie. I did then, and I still do. I always will.”
I’m trembling like I’m about to fall apart. “Stop it.”
He smirks, but his eyes are tired. He suddenly seems . . . older. More mature. Especially as I stand here, tantruming like a child because I refuse to have a simple conversation. “We both know that’s not what you really want.”
I march forward and shove his shoulder. “I hate you!”
He grunts, clutching his heart. “I love you.”
Guilt pierces my heart. “I’m sorry,” I gasp, horrified by my own behavior as I take in the busted diary on the floor. I was already embarrassed about last night, but now this. “I don’t know why I’m like this. I don’t know why I’m so . . . so—”
Hard to love.
“You are nowhere near hard to love, Genevieve.” He brushes a piece of hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear, offering me a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “But sometimes, we push people away. Especially when we’re scared they’re going to leave us. It’s a defense mechanism. A way to cope.”
I deflate like I’m going to collapse.
“Don’t keep pushing me away, baby,” he continues in the gentlest voice, as if trying to soften the blow of his analysis. “Because believe me. You’re perfectly easy to love. It’s just that sometimes . . . you won’tletpeople love you.”
