by Chloe Walsh
"Please stop –"
"And then I had to watch you throw yourself from that tree and it almost killed me," I choked out. "I have never been so fucking scared in my life, and you didn’t care. You just went and quit on me. You just…you just stopped.
Her breath caught. "Sketch."
"So yeah, Romi, I was glad it was Chris on that slab and not you and I fucking hated you for making me feel that way," I snarled. "And I'm still mad at you. Right now, right this very minute, I'm so goddamn mad at you that I can taste it."
"For Chris," she breathed, eyes wide and fearful.
"For the lies. For the pain. For the secrets. And for jumping out of that goddamn tree and leaving me on my own in this," I seethed, hands balling into fists. "I didn’t know we were in danger, but you did. You knew someone was out to get us and you still checked out. You were willing to leave me behind." I shook my head in disgust. "I've done a lot of shitty, unforgivable things to you and I hold my hands up, but I would never do that to you. I would never leave you defenseless."
"Sketch –"
"The minute I knew you were in trouble, I put our differences aside and I came to get you. I stepped up and helped you," I choked out hoarsely. "I'm still here, Romi, still trying to protect you from something I don’t even understand. But you never once thought about what would happen to me if you died. You were willing to leave me defenseless."
She paled. "I didn’t think –"
"But then again, I shouldn’t be surprised," I choked out a humorless laugh. "I was never good enough a day in my life, so why would you care?" I forced out the words. Bitter and twisted as I sounded, I couldn’t stop myself from speaking my truth. "My mama never loved me and my father doesn’t care. I had Chris and I had you. When we broke up, I thought I would die. I honest to god didn’t know if I could heal the hole you left in me." I slapped a hand against my chest, feeling my body vibrate and shake. "It's still there, wider than ever, and then I had to watch you with him? With my own brother? Touching him, kissing him, fucking loving him! The only two people I trusted in the whole world didn’t fucking care about me. Neither one of you thought about how I would feel. You didn’t care then and you don’t care now."
"You broke up with me!" she screamed, louder than I'd ever heard her scream in my whole life. "You did that to us, Sketch. Not me. What was I supposed to do?"
"You were supposed to not fuck my brother!"
She flinched and I turned my back, unable to deal with the turbulence in her eyes.
"Don't you dare do that," she warned, voice cracking. "Don’t you ever turn your back on me again."
"What do you want from me, huh?" I snarled, red-faced, as I swung around to glare at her. "The fuck are you expecting from me?"
"Better." Steeling her resolve, she looked me dead in the eye and hissed, "I expect better, Sketch."
"Look, I don’t know what else you want me to say." Clenching my fists, I forced myself to keep my eyes on hers. "I'm an asshole. I get that. I fucked up. I treated you badly. I hurt you. I wronged you. I lost my fucking mind for a while." A shudder racked through my body. "It won't change a damn thing, but if you need the word from me then here it is; I'm sorry, Romi. I'm fucking sorry, okay?"
"No," she choked out, sniffling. "It's not okay. You – " her voice cracked and she gasped for air before continuing, "You promised me forever."
I turned my face away like her words had slapped me. "Yeah, well, I think it's pretty clear by now that forever is just a temporary pitstop."
"I spent months trying to get over you," she hissed through her tears. "Trying to figure out why you would leave me like that. I came up empty." Clumsily, she hobbled towards me, dragging her boot-clad foot along. "I'm still coming up empty." A harsh sob escaped her and she closed the space between us. "Why'd you do it, Sketch, huh?" Sniffling, she reached up and slapped her small hand against my chest. "Why'd you leave me?"
"I didn’t leave you, Romi," I snarled, body rigid. "I stopped you from leaving me!"
"Wh-what?" Her eyes widened in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Forget about it." Trembling, I stepped backwards and out of her reach, but she kept coming, not stopping until my back was pinned to the wall with her small body caging me in. "Doesn't matter anymore."
"Yes, it does," she spat, crowding me, fucking killing me with those tear-filled eyes. "It matters and you know it."
I shook my head and looked away, body coiled tight with tension. "Just leave it alone, Ro." Swallowing deeply, I clenched my jaw and fought against the urge I had to reach out and touch her. "It's in the past."
"Tell me, dammit." Slamming both hands into my chest, she continued to push and shove at me.
"What good will it do?" I demanded, capturing her hands with mine and pushing them off my chest. "What goddamn bit of good will hashing up the past do? It won't change the present. It won't change a damn thing. We are where we are and I accept that, so just leave it alone, okay?"
"I can't leave it alone," she replied, hands returning to the bare skin of my chest. "I need the truth. I've been going crazy for two years over you. I need…I need something, Sketch. I need the truth about some fucking part of my life. Please?" Sniffling, she reached up and cupped my face with her hands. "Please."
"Fine. You want the truth? Here it is. Your dad wanted me out of the picture," I heard myself confess, repressing the urge to lean into her touch as I spilled my pain in as calm a tone as I could muster. "He wanted me away from you so badly that he was willing to uproot your entire world and ship you off to a boarding school in Europe to make that happen. So, I made a deal with him."
Her eyes widened. "A d-deal?"
I nodded stiffly. "If I broke it off with you and left you alone, if I kept my mouth shut about the deal, then you would get to stay in Pocketful." Reaching up, I took her hands and peeled them away from my face, unable to handle her touch. "I did what I thought was right, but he broke that promise when he sent you away." Frustrated, I shoved a hand through my hair and sighed. "I kept my side of the deal. Your father didn’t."
"But why?" she squeezed out, eyes locked on mine. "W-why would he do that?"
"Why do you think, Romi?" I demanded, wounded. "He hates me. Always has."
"I knew something was wrong," she cried, reaching back up to touch my face. "You lied to me."
"I had no choice! It was me without you, or no you at all!" I hissed, turning my face away. "And don't touch me like that."
"Sketch –"
"Why does he hate you so much? We were happy. Why would he do that to us?"
"Look, it all worked out for the best anyway," I forced myself to say. "You moved on. You got over it. You were happy with Chris. That's what your dad wanted and that's what happened. It's over with now. It's done. You'll find someone else and we'll forget this conversation ever happened."
"I never got over it," she whispered brokenly. "Not even for a minute."
My nostrils flared. "Then you better start trying because we are not going back."
"Sketch –"
"I'm done with this conversation, Romi. You got your apology. You got your answers. I’m in the wrong. I'm the fuck up. Now, just… just leave me alone."
"Leave you alone?" she whispered. "That's what you want?"
Ignoring the fevered thudding in my chest, I shook my head. "Maybe not, but it's what I need."
Romi went completely still, eyes still locked on mine, and it was too much for me to handle. "Oh my god." Her words were barely audible. "You really hate me now, don’t you?"
My eyes burned, my chest ached, and I honest to god felt weak to the bone. How she could even ask me that just proved how little she truly knew me.
"Well, this is painful."
Both our heads snapped toward the door of the motel room where Presley stood watching us, armed with half a dozen shopping bags and a piece of licorice dangling from his mouth.
"Watching ya'll bleed your regrets all over each other gen
uinely hurts my soul."
"I need some air," I muttered, taking this as my chance to get the hell away from the girl that made me bleed like no one else. Stepping around Romi, I kicked on my sneakers and grabbed a shirt out of my bag. Shrugging it on, I moved for the door, desperate to get some breathing space. "Welcome back, asshole."
"Sketch, wait," Presley called after me. "Don’t you wanna talk about –"
"Ya'll can figure it out." I barreled past him and stalked into the night. "Apparently, I didn’t know shit about my brother."
Chapter Thirteen
Romi
Stunned, I watched Sketch storm out of the motel room, taking what little was left of my sanity with him. "Wait!" I called out, ignoring the searing pain in my leg as I attempted to shuffle after him. "Sketch, don’t go –"
"Let him go," Presley said kindly, blocking my path. "He needs to cool off and he can't do that around you."
Shaking my head in utter confusion, I stumbled back to the bed and collapsed in a heap, feeling more emotions than I knew how to handle. Everything was spinning out of control, my life was falling apart before my eyes, and being near him again was making it so much worse. It was too much. His words, his version of the truth, had stunned me into submission.
Lost.
I felt utterly lost.
Face down on the wiry mattress, I buried my head in a pillow and swallowed a scream.
"Talk to me," Presley coaxed, wrapping an arm around my body. "Come on, baby girl. I'm here for you."
I couldn’t talk to him. I couldn’t talk to anyone. All I could do was reel in my memories as they attacked the fractures of my splintered heart…
"Oh my god!" Swallowing down the sob of relief trying to claw its way out of my throat, I locked eyes on the boy who had been evading me for two weeks. Sketch stood outside my classroom door, expression dark and guarded. His face was covered in bruises, his blue eyes locked on mine. Raising a hand, he crooked a finger and gestured for me to follow him before disappearing from sight.
Practically falling out of my chair, I scooped up my books and dashed for the front of class. "Romi?" Mr. Jackson said, brows furrowed in confusion. "If you need a hall pass –"
"I'm sorry, but I have to go," was the only explanation I gave him before barreling out of the classroom in search of my missing boyfriend. Heart bucking wildly in my chest, I rushed down the hall, my eyes frantically searching for him.
"In here," Sketch said, leaning against the door of an empty classroom. Again, he walked inside without waiting for me, letting the door swing shut behind him.
Relief flooded my body as I hurried into the classroom. "You jackass!" Slightly out of breath, I let my bag fall from my shoulder and set my books on a random desk, feet moving straight for him. "Where the hell have you been?" Not stopping until I had my arms flung around his waist, I sagged against his tall frame, needing the feel of his body against mine to ground me. "I thought something terrible had happened to you," I growled, tightening my hold on his waist. "You didn’t text or call." Clenching my eyes shut, I felt a tremor roll through me as I felt my world fall back in place. Sketch was okay. I could breathe again. "What the heck happened to your face?"
He didn’t answer my questions and he didn’t hug me back. "We need to talk," was all he said instead, taking a step back from me and breaking the physical connection I desperately needed.
"You bet your ass we need to talk." Planting my hands on my hips, I glared up at him. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been? You don’t answer my calls. You don’t text me back. You drop off the face of the freaking planet for two weeks and show back up to school without an explanation!" I shook my head and expelled a frustrated breath, wincing when I took in the sight of his bruised face. "What happened to you?"
"Doesn’t matter." His tone was clipped and void of emotion, his expression masked with impassiveness. He was looking at me like I was a stranger and it terrified me. What the hell was happening? "We need to talk."
"Then talk, Sketch," I strangled out, feeling a pang of anxiety settle inside of me. "Explain this, please, because I'm beyond confused right now."
"I've been doing some thinking," he began, reaching up to scratch his swollen jaw. "And I think we need to go our separate ways."
I heard the words come out of his mouth, saw the seriousness in his eyes, but I still laughed. I laughed and laughed and laughed because it was so ridiculous. "No," I finally replied, sobering my features. "Next."
"No?" He frowned. "What do you mean no?"
"I mean no," I shot back, feeling a surge of heat in my chest. "We're not going our separate anything. It's not happening. We're together. You and me. We love each other and that's that."
His eyes narrowed. "Romi, I want to break up."
"Stop playing around, Sketch," I growled, not liking this game one bit. "Whatever you're up to, it's not funny."
"Listen," he sighed, breaking eye contact. "You're still my best friend and I still care about you, that will never change, but –" Words breaking off, he ran a hand through his hair and expelled a shaky breath. "I just…"
"You just what, Holden?" I demanded, feeling my eyes sting with tears. "You want to end things? You want to break up with me? You don’t love me anymore? You don’t find me attractive? Hmm? You just fucking what?"
"I'm bored," he tossed back at me.
My blood ran cold. "Wh-what?"
"It's getting old, Ro – we are getting old," he choked out, sounding pained. "We've been together forever and I…fuck, I need to be free. To figure out who I am."
"You already know who you are," I cried, feeling completely cornered.
"And I can't do that with you clinging to my damn coattails, Ro," he continued, ignoring me. "I need my freedom."
"You're lying." I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling my heart race violently. Pain. It was all I could feel. Overwhelming me. My legs shook so hard, I was surprised to still be standing. "This isn't you, Sketch. You're lying. I know you are."
He shook his head. "I'm not."
My face caved. "Stop."
"I'm sorry," he bit out, jaw working. "But it's over. We're done."
"Don’t say sorry," I choked out. "Just take it back."
"I can't do that."
"Take it back," I begged, moving for him. "Please just take it back."
He refused to give an inch, body stiff and rigid.
A tear trickled down my cheek and his nostrils flared.
"You're done with me?" The pain inside of me was so severe that I could barely get the words out. "Is that what you're saying?" Keeping a hand clutched to my chest, I blinked away the tears blurring my vision and stared up at the only boy I had ever loved. The boy who had just cut me open. "You don’t want me?"
His only response was the slight shake of his head.
Not fucking good enough!
"Say it," I demanded. "If you don't want me, say the words, you fucking coward."
"I. Don’t. Want. You," he snarled, enunciating every word, eyes wild with heat. "Happy now? I don’t want to be with you, Romi. I'm done with you and I'm done with us. I won't change my mind. Not now. Not ever. So, get the fuck over me because I'm already over you."
I could feel the tear as my poor, thudding heart slowly started to split down the center. A combination of arctic ice and red-hot fire spread like wildfire throughout my organs, spilling over every inch of my skin.
Teeth chattering, I staggered backwards and crashed into a desk. Unable to breathe, I clawed and gasped for air, knowing full well that I was having a panic attack and needed to calm down, but I couldn’t.
"You'll be okay," Sketch told me, not meeting my eye. "I promise, it's better this way. You'll get over this."
I wouldn’t.
Not ever.
Grabbing his bag off the floor, he tossed it over his shoulder and moved for the classroom door, leaving me staring after him. "I'm sorry, Ro," he said, stopping in the doorway with his hand clutching the handle so tigh
t that his knuckles had turned white. "More than you'll ever know."
And then he was gone…
Chapter Fourteen
Sketch
My life, post-Romi, was dark, dreary, depressing, and I was done. Completely fucking done. I didn’t want to be here anymore. Not in the shithole town I hailed from or the frigid family I belonged to. Dragging myself out of bed this morning took more effort than usual. I wanted to stay right under my covers and wallow. I wanted to never have to face her again. Since I couldn’t do either, I showed up to school and went through the motions. Football was my saving grace since our breakup and I threw myself into the grueling schedule, not daring to come up for air for fear I would choke on my bitterness.
I hoped Cal Dillon was happy with himself. No, scratch that, I hoped he burned in hell for taking way the one good thing I had going for me…for making me break his daughter.
With Eminem's Love The Way You Lie blasting from my headphones, I pushed through the crowded school hallway towards the gym, entirely uninterested in what had everyone's feathers in a twist. I didn’t give a damn about school politics, if I was being honest. I only cared about two people in this entire school and those two people were…kissing?
Struck fucking dumb, I froze in the middle of the hallway, unable to move a muscle, while the mother of all horror scenes unfolded before my eyes.
Romi, my fucking Romi, tucked into my brother's side while he slung an arm over her shoulders.
The taste of vomit soured my mouth.
Breathe.
Just keep breathing…
Clenching my eyes shut, I prayed the weed still in my system from last night was playing havoc with my eyes, but no, when I opened my eyes, they were still there.
All smiles.
