Page 117 of You Were Always Mine
My voice cracks open on a whisper, raw and desperate: “Then don’t leave me, Scar. Don’t ever fucking leave me.”
And when she nods—when she presses her lips against my temple like a promise—I swear I feel my shattered heart try to stitch itself back together in her hands.
Scarlett
The phone won’t stop buzzing. It’s face-down on my desk, screen flashing like it’s trying to pull me under, every vibration another reminder of him. Of Tyler. Of the words I don’t want to read but can’t stop hearing anyway: slut. liar. Mine.
I pace until my throat burns, until I don’t know if the shaking in my chest is rage or fear. My hands curl into fists like I could punch the sound out of existence. But it doesn’t matter how hard I press my nails into my palms, the messages are still there, waiting.
Kai hasn’t said a word. He hasn’t moved either. He’s just sitting at the edge of my bed, hunched forward, elbows braced on his knees like he’s holding up the weight of the ceiling with his shoulders. His hair falls into his face, hiding him, but I can feel the storm in him, anyway.
The silence claws at me until I can’t stand it. “Kai…” My voice is nothing. Cracked glass.
He doesn’t look up. He doesn’t even breathelike he wants to answer. Then, slowly, his voice drags out of him, rough and ruined.
“I was supposed to protect you.”
I freeze. His words slice me open because they’re everything I don’t want him to say.
“I was supposed to fucking know,” he goes on, voice sharper, like it hurts him to push the words out. “That’s what a brother is meant to do, right? Keep you safe. Make sure no one touches you. Make sure you’re not crying yourself to sleep because of some piece of shit.” His jaw clenches, a tremor running through his arms. “But I didn’t. I didn’t see it. I didn’t stop it. I fucking failed you.”
My throat closes. “Kai, stop?—”
He shakes his head, still not looking at me, as if his eyes meet mine he’ll break apart completely. “Don’t tell me it’s not my fault, Scar. Don’t tell me that. Because I can’t hear it. I should’ve been there. I should’ve ripped him apart before he ever had the chance. Instead…” He drags in a breath, broken at the edges. “…instead I was too busy being the one who hurt you myself.”
The words rip through me like fire. I want to scream at him that he’s wrong, that I wanted him, that I still want him. But my mouth won’t move. The guilt strangles me too tight.
“It wasn’t you,” I manage to whisper, but it’s drowned in my own sobs. “You didn’t fail me. I did. I let him?—”
“Don’t.” His head snaps up then, eyes wild, bloodshot. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for that.”
I flinch, tears burning down my cheeks, because part of me still does. And he sees it. He sees everything.
The silence after is worse than the words. His shoulders quake once, twice, before he forces the words out through his teeth. “I don’t deserve you, Scar.”
And yet, in the way his eyes hold mine, in the way his chest heaves like he’s drowning, I know—deserve has nothing to do with it. He’ll never let me go.
I don’t even remember moving, only the ache in my chest breaking me forward until I’m climbing onto him, knees braced against his thighs, my arms looping around his neck as if I don’t hold on I’ll disappear completely. He doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t push me away. Just sits there, wrecked and heavy, like my weight belongs there and destroys him all at once.
His breath shudders hot against my ear.
“You still shouldn’t want me, Scar.” His voice is gravel, hoarse, hollow. “You shouldn’t… fuck, you shouldn’t even be able to look at me.”
My nails curl into the back of his shirt, clinging tighter.
“I’m no good,” he says, broken, like the words cut his throat on the way out. “I’m supposed to protect you. That’s all I ever should’ve been. And instead…” His chest rises hard under me, his jaw clenching as he stares past me like the truth is something rotting in the corner. “Instead, I touched you. I ruined you. I don’t deserve your arms around me. Don’t you get that?”
The tears sting my eyes, spilling fast and silent, because I can’t let go of him even if every word is a knife. My lips press against his shoulder, muffling the sob, and I whisper, “I don’t care. I don’t care, Kai.”
He grips my waist like he’s trying to pry me off, but his hands won’t obey him. His head falls forward against mine, all heat and ruin. “You should hate me. You should push me away.” His voice cracks again, raw, desperate. “You don’t know what I’ll do if you keep holding me like this.”
His head is bent low, hands gripping his thighs as if he lets go he’ll come apart, and maybe that’s what he wants—maybe breaking would feel easier than holding all of this inside. His voice is still hoarse in the air between us,I ruined you, Scar… you shouldn’t want me.
I reach for him anyway. My fingertips brush his jaw, and he flinches like the touch burns, but I don’t stop. I trace over the line of stubble, his cheekbone, up to his temple, forcing him to lift his eyes. They’re raw and wild, blue split open with pain, and something inside me clenches so hard I can hardly breathe.
“You’re wrong,” I whisper, leaning in to press my mouth to his temple, soft, desperate. “You think you broke me? You’re the only thing holding me together.”
His breath shudders, but his hands don’t move, fists locked tight. I kiss his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, light and trembling, my voice breaking against his skin. “I do want you, Kai. I don’t care what you say. I don’t care how fucked up it is.”
