21. Admitting Guilt
Admitting Guilt
twenty-one
S e v e n
My fingers are stained yellow from the nicotine, smoking cigarette after cigarette in hopes that they fucking calm my nerves and suppress my extreme guilt. The air—humid and crisp—washes over me as the heavy wind picks up from off of the ocean, turning the waves wild and daring.
A storm is coming, and not just the one brewing inside of me.
As much as I try to, I can't fucking get Emerson off of my mind; she's all I fucking think about, especially lately. She has woven her way deep into my soul, almost as if she has always been there. I've always wanted her to be mine, but I live by the code, and that code meant that she was absolutely forbidden. Somewhere along the long, torturous road, the lines between loyalty and love blurred, and I was sick of fighting my deepest desires—craving the one girl I could not fucking have.
But the fucking guilt still gets to me, making me feel like a terrible fucking person for betraying my best friend. My fucked-up logic was that my best friend should be happy for me that I found love for the first time, even if it was with his little sister.
The truth is, I can't keep denying what I feel for Emerson. The way she looks at me, the way she makes me feel alive—it's undeniable. The storm inside me is raging, and I can't hold it back anymore. I need to face the consequences of my feelings and own up to my actions. I need to tell my best friend the truth, and I need to face whatever comes my way.
As warm raindrops begin to sprinkle from the thick, dark clouds floating above me, I release a pent up sigh, my body slightly relaxing. The moment I hang my head and shut my eyes, the door swings open behind me, shutting with a loud slam, but not before a blast of music filters out.
"I was wondering where you were," Kane joins me on the bench by the curb of the bar, clasping his hand around my shoulder.
"I needed some air," I muttered, inhaling another drag off the cancer stick at the same time. "I needed a smoke."
He chuckles, bumping my shoulder with his. "You can't go back there. She asked to be alone."
"I'm not thinking about that, as enticing as it sounds." I raise my head and open my eyes, feeling the guilt start to eat me alive.
"You're not thinking about riding back to the beach house to be alone with Em? You're not thinking about how fucking good it feels to be buried inside of her?" he asks, a mix of shock and teasing laced in his slurred words.
"Fucking stop it, Kane." I crack my knuckles, feeling the urge to hit him just for talking about her, for bringing her up.
Standing up, I drop my cigarette to the ground and step on it, snuffing it out.
"Sit the fuck down, boy. What you about to do?" He stands, puffing his chest out like he's ready to fight.
I'm not, though. I just want to leave.
"I'm not fucking fighting you, Kane. Just... fucking stop talking about her." My voice gets soft as my words begin to trail off, my eyes locking on the person behind him.
"Eli," I mutter, my words cracking. "Let me explain."
"I think I fucking heard enough, Seven." He shakes his head and turns to walk the other way, clutching a beer by his side.
I glare at Kane and shove him away, bolting after my best friend, hoping to salvage the dwindling friendship between us. He doesn't stop and wait for me to catch up, he keeps on walking, ignoring my pleas for him to stop. By the time I make it to him, the bar is well enough behind us to where the music isn't rattling my mind.
"Eli," I growl, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around. "Fucking stop and let me talk, Goddammit."
"What the fuck is there to talk about, Seven? I'm good on discussing my fucking sister, and that seems to be all you fucking traitors wanna talk about." Glaring at me with a look so deadly, he crouches down and plants his ass on the wet curb, slowly drinking from the bottle in his hand.
Accepting defeat, I sit beside him, ready to get everything off my chest, even if it means losing my best friend. "I'm sorry, brother. I really am."
"For what? Fucking my baby sister, or betraying me worse than anyone else could've?" he laughs, but not because it's funny, but more so the unhinged laugh; the laugh of a man about to fucking lose it.
"I'm not sorry I fell in love with Emerson, Eli. I'm sorry I couldn't keep my feelings in check. I'm sorry I broke a promise to you that I know means everything." A weight lifts off my shoulders as the words spill out of my mouth; a drunken confession long overdue.
"You love her?" he asks, his jaw dropping to the wet concrete our feet are planted on, hard to pick up.
"Yeah, I love her." A smile curls along my lips as I think about her, making my dimples pop.
"You don't fucking love her, Seven," he laughs even louder, his body shaking through the fit. "You love fucking her; there's a difference."
I shake my head, keeping a straight face as I whisper, "I've been in love with her for years, Eli. It's more than what you're thinking."
Silence falls around us, a thick cloud of tension hanging above worse than the storm clouds. Eli looks as if I've just slapped him across the fucking face—like I've just killed his favorite pet. Somehow, me admitting I've been in love with Emerson hits him way fucking worse than admitting I love fucking her, and I can't gauge his next move. He stands up, walking in a fast circle as he mutters to himself, anxiously running his hands through his hair. I stand up too, my hands in my pockets, waiting to see what he's going to do.
"You mean to tell me that you've been "secretly" in love with my fucking sister for years? When you were supposed to be my fucking friend? My brother!" He charges at me, knocking me to the ground on my back.
Punches get thrown and I take them, owning up to my deceit. He wails on me, splitting my lip and turning my eyes blurry and black, but I still don't hit him back.
"Fuck you, Seven!" he screams, his voice pierced with betrayal.
Reaching behind him, he pulls out his pistol from his waistband and presses it to my temple, looking down at me with rage and murder in his eyes. So I pull mine out, putting it to his temple opposite mine, refusing to let him take shit too far.
"Put the fucking gun down, Eli. You wanna fight me like a man, then do it. Real men don't need weapons to settle a fucking score." I shove him off of me, making it to my feet with my gun still pointed at him. But I lower it, tucking it away, and pulling out the last cigarette in my pack. Lighting it, I crumble the empty pack up and flick it at him, having enough of this shit.
"You don't want to accept my fucking apology, fine. You can't be happy for me, fine. Leave me the fuck alone." I shove past him, ignoring the gun still pointed at my back.
I did what I could for tonight; he's too drunk and too pissed to think clearly. So, I gather myself and wipe the tears before they can fall down my face, and I rush back to my bike, anxious to go see Emerson.
I need to talk to her and figure out what happens from here—I owe her that much.
She's all I can think about as I kick off the side stand, my engine roaring to life. But as I'm about to leave this fucking storm behind me, I can't help but let my mind drift back to Eli. What happens with us now? In a matter of minutes, I've lost my best friend and betrayed his trust, but I still can't bring myself to regret it. I've found love, something I never thought possible, and I refuse to let it go.
Emerson is the only thing that matters now, and I'm ready to fight for her, no matter what; she deserves someone who will fight for her, not fight her.
As I ride back to the beach house, the first hard raindrops start pelting my skin, but it's like nothing compared to the storm that's still raging inside me.