She stood in front of everyone, her parents, the people at the manor, the cops, Lucas, and said no. She kept saying that she loved me. That she wanted me, wanted it. That Lucas was lying. Everyone was lying.
Except me.
Swallowing again, I answer, “She didn’t disappoint me.Hasn’tdisappointed me. Ever. In fact, she told me that I wasn’t a disappointment at all. Not to her.”
“Yeah,” my brother agrees. “Which can only mean one thing.”
“What?”
“That she loves you back.”
My chest hurts again.
And again, it’s not from the beating I took. It’s from the thing that I feel for her.
Love.
She loves me.
I know she’s said it a lot of times now. But I’m only now letting it sink in.
She loves me.
She fucking loves me. She’s loved me since that first night.
She’s loved me even when she hated me.
Even when I made her hate me.
“So my question again: What is the problem? What the fuck are you doing?”
Exactly.
Whatthe fuckam I doing?
She loves me. Apparently I love her too.
I believe that I’m a disappointment. She doesn’t. Even my brother doesn’t.
She says I believe the wrong thing. I believe the wrong people.
And if I can believe the wrong people, if I can believe the world and my piece of shit father, then why can’t I believe her? The only person who’s never disappointed me. The only person to ever love me despite everything.
Why can’t I believe whatshebelieves about me?
Holy shit.
Holy fuckingshit.
I look at my brother, the pain increasing in my chest. “Nothing.”
“What?”
“There’s no problem. I mean, I’m the problem but there’s really no problem.”
And if I believe her, if I keep believing her, then maybe one day…
One day I can believe it myself.