If only he knew…
“You should eat,” he says. “Drink some water. You’ll feel better.”
I groan at the thought of sitting up, let alone eating. “Can’t.”
“Don’t be a baby.” He grins. “I cooked. And you’ll fucking love it.”
Intrigued, I let him haul me up to go take a much-needed leak, then prop me up on pillows in a sitting position even as dizziness makes my head spin.
“Where’s Syd?” I ask as he passes me a glass of water.
“She’ll be back from work soon.”
“And Nate?”
West frowns and takes the glass from my shaky hand. “I don’t have a fucking clue what Nate is up to. He’s made it clear I’m cut off from his life.”
“Oh come on.” Seriously, these guys may have this magnetic pull, but they’re also dumbasses. “You can pretend all the hell you want, but you care for Nate. And he cares for you. We all do.”
“You’re feverish,” West says, heat under the calm of his voice. “But you don’t know how I feel about Nate.”
“Fine. So how do you feel, then?”
My bedroom door creaks as it swings wide and there’s Nate leaning on the doorframe, arms folded over his chest, one brow lifted. “Yeah, West, how do you feel about me?”
They’ve moved out of my room, but I hear them perfectly, and it’s not going well.
“Aw, did you miss me, West?” Nate is saying in an exaggerated sugary voice. “I’m home early, honey. Wanted to surprise you.”
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” West growls. “Stop acting like that.”
“And act like you, all pissy and shit?”
“What do you want, Nate? You’re the one who acts like an asshole, who doesn’t want to be around me anymore. So guess what: I’m not here for you. You can go to hell for all I care.”
Ah shit. Not going well at all. My door is half-closed, but it’s not like they’re trying to keep their voices low or anything. Anger and sorrow and hurt bleed through every word.
“Fuck you, West. You don’t walk away from this like that.”
“Why, are you the only one allowed to walk away when shit gets tough? Let go of my arm.”
“Don’t. West, wait.”
“You don’t want me around. So I won’t stay.”
Dammit, I have to calm them down. Throwing off the covers, I cautiously sit up, then have to brace my hands on the edge of the mattress, lightheadedness making my stomach roll.
“All you had to do,” West says, “was to talk to me. To tell me what was bothering you, what I did wrong, how I hurt you. But you didn’t. You haven’t. What is it that’s preventing you from being my friend? That’s turning you into someone you’re not?”
“This is who I am now,” Nate says quietly.
“No, man. It’s not. I’ve known you for years. The Nate I know has a fucking heart and wouldn’t forget about me, wouldn’t ignore me for a year.”
“You know how bad things were at home.” Still in that quiet, resigned voice.
“Yeah, well, you know what? You’re not the only one with a fucked-up family. I’m going.”
I lurch to my feet, even though my head is still spinning, and grab the doorframe before I pitch forward and faceplant. “Stop, you guys. Stop.”