Jesus. If this were a football match, she just scored the game-winning touchdown.
She hugs I
vy and Tony, then walks out. There’s the extra point.
“She probably didn’t mean to sound so harsh,” Tony says.
“Definitely not,” Ivy says. “Edgar, we know you care about the ba—”
“And you stay by your phone,” Yuna says, sticking her head back into the room. “In case I need to call you.” She vanishes again.
“I’m tired. I think I’ll head to bed early.” It’s only six, and what I’m saying is ludicrous, but they don’t try to stop me.
I walk into the guest suite that Tony has set aside as mine. It’s empty now, since I moved everything to the new house. It’s odd to be back here now, under these circumstances—sad and emotionally drained.
After kicking off my shoes, I lie on the bed, my arms folded behind my head and phone on the nightstand. What Yuna said keeps circling in my head.
People either want what their parents have, or reject it outright.
I never wanted what my parents have. Ever. The coldness. All the roles we had to play to make sure we look fine on the outside, even as the inside rots away.
But the excuse for the effort has always been the same.
You took away who I love the most, so I’m going to behave monstrously because that’s what you deserve.
Mom never said that out loud, but we all knew what’s what she was thinking.
I love her. We all do. She deserves our understanding.
Dad said that all the time. It didn’t matter that we were just kids. That we were all suffering. So long as he and Mom were fine, whatever happening to us was something we had to bear. Hell, the consequences were still something we suffer through.
Love rots people, confuses them and clouds their judgment. That’s been my experience, because that’s what my family’s life has been.
But…
Jo’s family isn’t like that. They’re warm. Caring. Protective.
They love each other.
And their love didn’t feel bad. Or twisted. It made me yearn for something similar.
So what’s the difference?
Your parents are fucked up, Yuna’s voice says in my head. And you grew up around those fuck-ups for so long that you’re conditioned to look at the worst side of love.
What if I’d had what Jo had growing up? Would I have seen more clearly?
And if I could see more clearly…
I suck in air as sudden pain stabs my chest. I’m a moron. A selfish bastard of the worst kind.
To avoid making the same mistake Dad made, I’m hurting both of us by taking away what Jo wants—what her parents have. I’m punishing her, making her pay for my parents’ sins.
Yuna’s right. I should let Jo go.
But I can’t. Not when I just realized the reason she’s perfect isn’t because I could never fall in love with her…but because I’m already in love with her.
Chapter Fifty-Three