Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Okay, so confession: there is one little, itty-bitty thing I didn’t tell Maddox about. One teeny tiny minuscule thing.
There might be a tracker in Princess’ collar. I put it in there after I lost him.
And if you think that’s bad, I’m gonna lose you now ‘cause I do happen to be a few fields away.
I pulled off on the side of the road when I saw the tracker stop moving. At first, it freaked me out. Is that where Arthur lives? Does he have something over Maddox’s head to keep him coming back?
Yeah, yeah, I get it. If Maddox catches me doing this, any hope of a relationship is over. But if Arthur catches Maddox, I’m terrified that it will have the same outcome, only Maddox will be dead.
The thought makes my stomach turn over.
Although there is a little tiny part of my brain that’s screaming I’m being dramatic.
I shut that part up because I’d rather be dramatic and protect those I love than be apathetic and watch them walk themselves into a place where they could get hurt, or worse.
I’ll save Maddox, even if he won’t save himself.
I drum my fingers on the wheel, my clothes soaked in sweat.
I am not the right person to be playing this role.
The obsessive boyfriend on TV is always this dark-haired, jacked, macho man who knows exactly what to do, and their lover always views them as the hero.
Instead, I’m about to throw up. I didn’t know what to bring besides energy drinks, and Maddox definitely doesn’t consider himself my boyfriend.
If I throw up, maybe for that moment I’ll look like I have those washboard abs though…
I’m broken from my thoughts by a car driving past, and my heart leaps into my throat. Is that him? Did he turn around? I scramble for my phone.
The tracker hasn’t moved. How current is this thing? I refresh, and the tracker stays in the same spot.
What is he doing?
I shift, peeling the shirt off my back with a slick sound.
I called Logan earlier, and he told me something along the lines of this-isn’t-a-movie-you-can’t-just-whack-someone-with-no-planning-in-a-suburbia-full-of-Karens and if-I-wanted-it-done-quicker-why-don’t-I-do-it-myself.
Then Ronan hopped on and said, “Yee-haw, I like your style, tattoo boy,” and asked if we could use Princess, to which Dakota said, “Fuck no, he’s too recognizable.
” They bickered together until I hung up the phone.
I think of just killing Arthur myself, and I still feel nothing but a sense of rightness. But then I think about Maddox’s reaction tonight, and that twisting in my gut starts. He hated it. And I hate doing things that upset Maddox.
The guilt roils in my gut. I should have told him. I should have been honest from the start. I should have asked him how he felt. I was just afraid! Afraid of what is happening now…that he’d hate me for it.
And looky here. He still hates me, and Arthur is still fine, kinda like what happened with Tyler, too. She hated me, and she stayed stuck.
I drop my head back against the seat. Freaking heck.
All kinds of emotions bubble up in me that are hard to name.
The one that keeps popping up is that it isn’t fair.
It’s not freaking fair. Injustice shouldn't exist. Things shouldn’t be the way they are.
Maddox shouldn’t have to live with that, and Tyler shouldn’t have had to either. Why couldn’t I just save them both?
Tears well up in my eyes and start spilling over. I hate the feeling that I can’t do anything. Because I can. I can make it better!
My heart hurts too much to cry again.
Why do I do this? Why do I keep chasing after people who want nothing to do with me?
Because, deep down, you’re trying to save yourself.
What the heck?
I stare at the dark road. Little bugs fly in front of the headlights in the dusty summer evening. It’s like what the therapist said so long ago is here again, loud and clear.
But I don’t have to save myself. I’m not in an abusive relationship. My life has been good. For the most part, anyway. I mean, my parents didn’t love me, but whose parents do?
Even the thought of them makes me want to sink into my seat. I feel small again. Like a kid again who got yelled at because I got caught joyriding when I shouldn’t have. Not because it wasn’t safe, but because I might damage the car.
My throat is so freaking tight. My parents never loved me. Why didn’t they love me? Why doesn’t anyone choose me?
The tears come again, but this time they’re quieter. Deeper, ripped from the very depths of my soul. It’s ugly crying, snot, and choked breath and, well, nothing that a macho protector would do.
Because I’m not a macho protector. I’m a coward. Because these emotions scare me. And yet, they roll over me like a tidal wave. I feel every excruciating part of them, the helplessness, the failure, the injustice. Because if no one chooses me, what option is there?
I cry for a while until my head is pounding and I have no more tears to cry.
Then a very quiet, very stupid thought pops into my head. I could choose myself.
I snort, and a big snot bubble comes out of my nose. Yeah right. What am I gonna do? Protect myself against my own stupid decisions? No, Micah, you can’t have that extra serving of fries; it’s bad for you.
I snort again.
‘No, Micah, you can’t stalk your wanna be boyfriend.’
‘But I want to!’
‘No. Bad. No cookie tonight.’
I sit up a bit straighter. Wait. I don’t like this.
I bite down on my piercing and pull, feeling it tug against my tongue. But there’s no pain.
I’m not stalking Maddox because I want to; I’m doing it to keep him safe.
And did he ask you to keep him safe?
I frown. He doesn’t have to freaking ask me; I do it because I care.
Are you just trying to prove to yourself that someone will choose you if you just love them hard enough?
Okay, I’m over this. No more therapist conversation memory, no more joking around. I’m so over this.
You tried to fix their lives to make yourself feel better. Used them without their permission. Took away their control. Just like their abusers did.
I throw the car in gear, fear racing through me. I’m not like them. I’m not. I’m not freaking like them.
I drive forward but realize I can’t drive right past Maddox because he doesn’t know I’m here.
I whip the car around, headed… Actually, I don’t know where. Anywhere but here. As I drive, a feeling of doom settles over me.
I took their control away. Just like I tried to do with Minky. Minky picked who they wanted, and it wasn’t me, and I was so broken that I wanted to force it.
Just like I’m trying to do with Maddox. Just like I tried to do with Tyler.
Looks like I haven’t changed much. The curse is very much still alive and well.
My phone rings, and I glance down at it.
Logan.
My thumb hovers over the screen. Screw it. If I’m this screwed up, I may as well dive headfirst. I’ll lose Maddox for sure, but this is all I know how to do. Drive people away until they’re sure not to pick me. Because even I don’t pick me.
My thumb hovers, hovers, hovers.
Then, I make a choice.