43. Reese
I guess it’s true what they say. What goes up, must come down.
My truck complains at the high speed, but I’m too fucking pissed to care right now. I shouldn’t get woken up by my girlfriend crying on the phone because her brother freaked the fuck out on her.
The only reason I’m not heading to see Winnie right now is because Emma and Laney promised to keep her at their place until I can get to her.
Brakes squealing to a stop, I throw the truck in park and wait. I’m not going into The Underground tonight. I’m too fucking mad and would end up pissing off the wrong person, and I’m not trying to die tonight. But I will fight if it comes down to it.
A part of me hopes it doesn’t, but the other, louder part right now wouldn’t mind throwing a few punches into Elijah’s face. Winnie didn’t tell me everything he said, but from how hard she was crying, I know it couldn’t have been good.
She had just texted me this morning, telling me how she was going to make dinner, ask him to watch a movie, and slowly break the news. Well, none of that worked because I fucking texted her and he saw my name on her phone.
I don’t know if I’m more pissed because my ex-best friend can’t get over his shit and let his sister be happy, or if I’m pissed because I’m the one who fucked everything up.
Going back, everything starts with me. I was always the one to invite Winnie to play with us. I felt bad that she never joined in, and I never saw her with friends, so it just made sense to me. Elijah never put up a fight. He and Winnie were mostly close. I was the one who hung out with her more than I should have. I vented to her like she was some kind of weird child therapist, and she listened. I was the one who let us get close enough to where she thought it would be okay to kiss me. I was the one who snuck into her room that night and didn’t leave when I should have.
Me. I’m the problem, and yet I’m selfish enough to not let Winnie go.
“What’s the plan?”
I shrug. I hadn’t thought about a plan.
Sawyer offered to join, I think, more or less, to make sure no one dies. I’ve already warned him not to step in unless it looks like it’s getting to that point. I don’t want Elijah thinking he’s being ganged up on.
Finally, I recognize the figure stalking through the large doors. I fist-bump Sawyer and jump from the truck.
“Eli,” I shout.
“You have some fucking nerve showing your face here, Larson.”
“Yeah? You have some fucking nerve making my girlfriend cry.”
He bounds for me, but I duck out of the way, turn, and throw my fist in his direction. I end up hitting his cheek, but he doesn’t even react. He throws three punches back, two I’m able to dodge, but the third hits me right in the nose. Blood immediately pours from it; I wipe, but I know it’s no use.
“Don’t fucking talk to me about my sister.”
“Or what?” I move closer, getting right in his face.
It’s so easy to feel the hatred burning off him, but it’s not just hatred for me, it’s hatred for everything.
“Or I’ll put you in the fucking ground,” he growls, moving closer so we are nearly nose-to-nose.
“I’d like to see you try.”
And he does. Punch after punch, we go for it. Neither of us caring how badly we hurt the other, and honestly, it feels fucking good. Years of pent-up frustrations, anger, and hatred—from his side and now mine.
Somehow, we collapse to the ground, and he’s on me, whaling at my head, and I’m able to block most of them. But eventually, I get sick of being hit and throw him off me with as much force as I can manage. Elijah’s back hits the wall. He glares at me, breathing hard.
“You’re a fucking piece of shit, Larson. You know that? Just like your good-for-nothing, murderer of a father.”
“Say whatever the fuck you want, Elijah. Get it out because I’m not here to fight over that bullshit.”
“Then why are you here?”
He still doesn’t get it, and at this point, I wonder if he ever will or if he’s so lost up his own ass and in his own misery that he will be blind to everything else forever. That would crush Winnie, so I really hope that’s not the case.
“For your sister, my girlfriend.” And soon to be my baby mama. Winnie didn’t mention anything about her telling him that much, and I’m certainly not going to do it. My head is already throbbing.
“Stop. Fucking. Saying. That.”
“Sure, but it doesn’t make it any less real.”
Elijah drops his head back against the wall. “Why did you have to do this to me?” His voice is so low I hardly hear it.
My eyebrows pinch, and on shaky arms and legs, I crawl to the lamppost nearest to me and lean against it. “What the fuck does me being with Winnie have to do with you?”
“You still don’t get it, do you?”
“I can’t get something you’ve never told me, E. You hated me because of who my dad is, which I fucking get, trust me—no one gets it more than me. But then it was because of fucking Zoey. Sure, it looked bad, but I was your best friend and you didn’t even let me explain. Even after she told you nothing happened, that still wasn’t good enough. Nothing I have ever done for you has been good enough, and I’ve accepted that. We’re not friends, I’ve heard you loud and clear, but friends or not, I love your sister, and she loves me. I care about her more than anyone, and I’m sorry, but I’m not going anywhere. So either you accept it or you don’t.
“But I would suggest accepting it because all you’re doing is hurting your sister. I don’t give a fuck if you hate me anymore, but Winnie does. And you don’t see how much it hurts her knowing you hate me.”
Elijah levels his stare, and for the first time in a long fucking time, it’s not just hatred I see. It’s betrayal and hurt.
“That’s the problem,” he grumbles, then forces himself to his feet. I climb to a stand after because, to my utter shock, I think we are getting somewhere.
“What is?”
He shakes his head, and I’ve had enough of these games. I’m tired, cold, and I just want to get to Winnie to make sure she’s okay.
I storm over—well, as well as my achy body will let me—only stopping once I’m toe to toe with him.
“Tell me the fucking problem, Elijah.”
“You always picked Winnie over me,” he snaps, and then immediately looks like he regrets saying anything. “Just fucking never mind.”
Elijah shoves past me, all while my head is spinning fifty miles a fucking second.
“You were my best friend.”
He freezes, his back facing me, and shakes his head. “No I wasn’t. I was the brother of your real best friend.”
What the hell is he talking about?
“Don’t play stupid, Reese. I know you would talk to Winnie about shit at home. You talked to her more than you ever talked to me. Time and time again, you picked her. Inviting her to always hang with us. She tagged along to everything because of you. Winnie never made her own friends because you were always there, and you took advantage of that.”
No words come to mind because… he’s right. I didn’t do any of it on purpose, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s right. I liked Winnie’s company. She was easier to talk to than anyone else, but I never really tried with Elijah. I didn’t want to look weak in front of another guy, but with Winnie… I don’t know, everything was different. From the first moment her eyes landed on me, I never wanted to be anything other than what I was. Never had to pretend to be strong when I felt weak. She accepted me for who I was and was not.
“I didn’t realize it bothered you.”
He scoffs. “Of course you fucking didn’t. Your head has been so far up Winnie’s ass since day one, you didn’t notice anything else.”
“Eli—”
“I needed you.” His voice shakes, and my heart stops. The world around me slows down, and a glimpse of the old Elijah punches me in the gut. “When my dad died, I needed my best friend.”
“I didn’t think you wanted me around.”
“At first, I didn’t, but you didn’t even try. You walked away that night without a fucking word. You took my anger and just accepted it. Ten years of friendship down the drain.”
This doesn’t make sense to me. In fact, it really kind of pisses me off that he is blaming me. “I did try.” My voice is tight. “I came by the house every day, and you shut me out.”
“I shut you out because you came by the house every day, but whose room were you in every night?”
“That’s not fair,” I bite out.
“No, of course it’s not fucking fair. I was in my room self-destructing while you comforted my sister. I had no one, Reese. Fucking no one.”
“What about your mom?”
Elijah turns his head to the side, his bruised and bloody face lit by the streetlamp, and his short dark hair plastered to his head, I’m not sure from sweat or blood.
“It was never about your dad being a piece of shit or you fucking—or not fucking—Zoey. It was about you being a shitty friend.”
Elijah storms away, and I do the same. There’s nothing I could say right now to make things better because I don’t know what to fucking say. All these years, I blamed him for ruining our friendship. I blamed my dad, Zoey. I blamed everyone besides who actually did it.
Me.
I believed Elijah was blind to how close I was to Winnie, but it seems no one was as blind as I thought. I’m not sorry for how close I was to Winnie, but I am sorry for how he feels. I never wanted to abandon him. When I found out it was my dad who killed his, I felt a lot of things. Embarrassment, guilt, anger. They were all there. Elijah lashed out at me. I knew how he felt, and I was selfish and didn’t want to be around someone who was mad at me. Winnie was never angry with me. Now I know Elijah wasn’t either—not for that reason. I should have been his punching bag, let him get whatever he needed to off his chest, but instead, I cowered away, protected myself, and let him flounder.
Fuck.
I pull open the driver’s door to find Sawyer sitting in it.
“I figure you’re not in the place to drive.”
He figures right. I slam the door and limp over to the passenger seat. The weight of the fight and knowledge is like a fucking house on my back.
Elijah was right about one thing. I’d pick Winnie every time, and that’s something I’ll never apologize for.
Winnie runs out of the place as soon as we pull up, like she was waiting by the window. She pulls open the door and gasps.
“Oh my—did Elijah do this to you? Of course he did. I—”
I pull her into my arms and kiss her. My lips must be split because it fucking hurts, but I push past it.
She pulls away, breathing hard, and cups my face. “Are you okay?”
“You should see the other guy.” It’s a bad joke, especially since the other guy is her brother, and she winces before I add, “He’s fine, Win. We both are.” Physically.
She eyes me skeptically, twisting her mouth and looking over me from head to toe. “You look awful, Reese.”
I feel it too.
“I’ll be good in the morning.”
She doesn’t believe that, and I can’t blame her. I’ve seen dudes after fighting Elijah, and if I look anything like that right now, it must be rough. Winnie drags me from the truck with the help of Sawyer.
It occurs to me then that I have these guys, but who does Elijah have?