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But the second I step inside, I’m bombarded by memories. I see myself standing in front of Francis’s desk, hands clasped behind my back, head bowed, while he gave me one of his countless lectures.
How many times had my tears silently fallen while he told me that I wasn’t pretty enough, thin enough, polite enough, smart enough, strong enough? Did he know I heard him when he lamented ever having a daughter under his breath? Did he know that his words have haunted me ever since?
I stand there, chest heaving, glaring at his chair behind the desk.
Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry. He doesn’t deserve your tears.
I take in a shuddering breath as the urge to let my tears spill onto my cheeks dissipates. But it doesn’t stop those goddamned memories from flooding in.
You’re too sensitive. Too hormonal. Get your emotions under control.
Be strong like your brother. He never cries.
“Fuck you,” I finally whisper, clenching my fists at my sides.
“That’s my girl.” Blaze’s voice is soft. Proud.
I whirl around, cutting him a withering glare. There was once a time when those words would’ve made me glow with pride. Now they sting. “How long have you been standing there?” And how the hell did I forget to lock the door?
“Not for long.” He steps into the room, closing the door quietly. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“Fuck off.” I back away until I hit the desk. The feeling of the cool wood sends a shiver through me. “I know you don’t care.”
“You really want to be alone in here?” He looks around, shoving his hands in his pockets. “This room is depressing as hell.”
It’s not lost on me that he doesn’t bother to correct my statement.
And just like that, the tears are back, and this time I can’t stop them.
Probably because my foolish heart thinks Blaze still does deserve my tears, unlike Francis. And maybe he does. I’m the one who hurt him first.
“You have no idea,” I mutter, wiping at my eyes. My fingers come away smeared with black. “Oh, shit.”
Blaze comes to stand in front of me, grabbing a tissue from the desk. “Here.” He wipes under my eyes, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He smells like summers playing hide-and-seek in the forest, like fresh earth and ferns. It warms my insides. “I got most of it. But some of it’s a little stubborn.”
I take the tissue from him, lightly touching my eyelashes to soak up the tears they caught—only for more to appear in their place.
Why is Blaze doing this? For the past year, it’s like he wished I didn’t exist—which I understand. I hurt him deeply. But over the summer, his hateful glares have softened some, and there are some moments when he’s back to the way he used to be with me—tender. Caring.
I keep my gaze pointed away from him. Just go, I want to say. I can’t handle you glaring at me one minute and then wiping away my tears the next.
“You’re coming back outside, right?”
Frowning, I shake my head. Because honestly, I don’t think I can. “I just need to get out of here. This place is so... so oppressive.”
That’s it—that’s what I need to do. I just have to grab my keys, make it to my car without my mother seeing me, and I’ll be free.
Blaze’s hands grip my hips, and I realize I’ve already made a move to get around him. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” His voice is dark, and his fingers dig into my dress.
“My... car?” I say, trying to squirm away. Why is he doing this? Why does it matter to him? And why do his hands on my hips feel so—so—God, Brooke. Get your mind out of the gutter.
Blaze laughs, but the sound is void of amusement. “You seriously think I’m letting you go anywhere? You’re a fucking mess, Brooke. The second you’re alone, you’ll break down again. You’ll crash before you even make it a mile.”
I look up at him, with his dirty blond hair and blue eyes that used to hold so much kindness in them. But right now, they’re icy cold.
Blaze. Always Blaze. Ever since I was a kid, he always seemed to know when something was wrong with me. And he was always able to find my hidden crying spots, coming with tissues and chocolate stolen from his mom’s secret stash.
“I hate how well you know me,” I murmur, sniffling.
