Page 94 of A Little Jaded
“Yeah, but it isn’t.”
“You’re right.” His forehead scrunches, and he lets out a slow breath. “It isn’t, but it’s not on you.”
My bottom lip quivers before I suck it into my mouth and bite down. Hard. Praying the sting of pain will keep my guilt and tears at bay. At least until Everett’s friends leave. Because he can say what he wants, but the truth is, thisison me. If he didn’t know me, if Drake didn’t know him, this never would’ve happened. It’s all my fault. I squeeze my hands into fists, letting my nails bite into my palms as I stare at the mottled purple along Everett’s cheekbone. How can he still look handsome like this? All bruised and broken. I can onlyimagine what’s hidden beneath his blood-soaked T-shirt. I can tell the guys tried cleaning him up before they brought him in. There isn’t any dried blood beneath his nose, but his shirt? There was only so much they could do. It doesn’t take a genius to see the aftermath and piece together what happened and all he went through.
And it’s all. My. Fault.
“You guys can go,” Everett says without taking his eyes off me. “Thanks again for your help.”
“Sure thing, man,” Griffin says. “If you need anything else, give me a call.” He heads back to the front door, and Reeves follows behind, not saying a word.
The sound of the latch clicking into place reverberates throughout the otherwise silent house as I turn back to a bruised and broken Everett.
“Talk to me, Storm,” he rasps.
“W-what happened?”
“Drake and a few of his buddies jumped me outside the gas station.”
My expression falls even more. “Ev…”
“Said I was in their territory.” He scoffs, then winces. “What kind of fuckin’ life is this? I feel like I entered some alternate universe or some shit. Like I’m in a gang or…” He scrubs the hand not holding the bag of peas to the back of his head from his forehead to chin, wincing even more as he drops his hand to his lap. “What the fuck, Raine? I didn’t sign up for this. This isn’t… This isn’t my life.”
The words hang in the air. Heavy. Loaded. Because he’s right. This isn’t his life. But itismine.
Regret and shame battle inside me as I take a small step backward, ignoring the swell of tears in my eyes and letting out a soft exhale. “I’m so sorry, Ev.”
“Shit.” His head hangs. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Doesn’t make it less true,” I reply. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“How can I not apologize?” I argue. “This is my fault. If you hadn’t gone to pick up my things, this would never have happened. You wouldn’t have had the shit kicked out of you.” I wipe my hand beneath my nose and sit on the cushion beside him. “You’re right, you know? This isn’t your life. But, apparently, it’s mine, and?—”
“Raine.” He reaches for me, but I shake my head and lean away from him. Desperate for the distance. For the fucking clarity to know what to do in this situation when I feel so damn helpless, it’s not even funny.
“Whether we want to admit it or not, whatever’s going on with Drake, he isn’t going to just let me go, and it isn’t fair this happened to you. That he hurt you.” I cover my mouth, nearly choking on a sob. “I’m so sorry, Ev.”
“Raine—”
“I am,” I push, dropping my hand back to my lap. “I’m sorry, and I wish I could take it away, but I can’t.” My voice cracks. “I can’t take it away, and I can’t make Drake go away, no matter what I do, no matter how much I try to avoid him, but it isn't your job to put up with this. To deal with shit like this.” I motion to his broken face. “I’m so sorry.”
I feel like a broken record. Like I can’t stop spewing the same rambling apology. But I don’t know what else to say. How else to fix this. How to make Drake pay for hurting someone I care about while knowing it’s my fault in the first place. “I, uh, I’m gonna need you to do something for me, all right? I need you to break my heart so we can go our separate ways because this? You and me? I can’t let you live like this. I can’t let him hurt you?—”
“Raine,” he snaps.
My bottom lip trembles, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Self-loathing swamps my every thought. It seeps through the cracks of my defenses, attacking my logic and self-esteem. Ina way, it’s comical. This isn’t about me. Yet I can’t help but carry the burden of it. Because if I wasn’t in the picture, this wouldn’t have happened, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. To take his pain.
Everett’s touch is gentle, making me feel precious as he cups the side of my face and tilts my head up, leaving me no choice but to look at him. Moisture clings to my lashes, but I open my eyes. The same hammer of guilt hits me square in the chest when my gaze connects with his baby blues.
“You’re a storm, Raine. Messy and chaotic and a shit-ton of work, but I’m in, all right? I’m all in.”
He presses his lips to mine, and I meet him halfway, careful not to hurt him or make this worse. The slight tang of blood hits my tongue as he swallows my whimper, his mouth moving with mine in a slow, cautious kiss. And I hate how I’m the one who’s a mess right now. How I’m the one being comforted when he’s the one who went through Hell and back tonight. Shame clogs my throat at the reminder that if I hadn’t told Everett I needed to pick my things up from Eternal, he wouldn’t have gone by himself. If I hadn’t dated Drake in the first place, he wouldn’t have to keep an eye out for any potential run-ins. If I hadn’t approached Reeves, I wouldn’t have met Everett, and he’d be safe. He’d be okay.
“You’remystorm,” he rasps against my swollen lips as if he can read my thoughts. As if he can feel my warring emotions. He shifts closer, kissing me harder and branding me in every way he can. As if he knows what I’m thinking. What I’m feeling. And he wants to take it away. My pain. When I’m the one who’s desperate to make him feel better. To make this right.
“Fuck.” His chuckle is low and throaty as he pulls away and rests his forehead against mine. “I just had the shit kicked out of me, and I still want you.” He opens his eyes and smiles. “Yeah, I’m not letting you go anywhere, Stormie.”