by Ivy Fox
“But you fell in love with Rome, too.”
“I did.” She smiles again at the mere mention of my older brother. “And after I realized just how much, I thought all I needed was him to be truly happy. But Rome knew better than me. He knew that even though I loved him with all my heart, Ollie and Ash were as much a part of me as he was.”
“So, Rome wasn’t enough for you?”
“It was never about not being enough. I could have lived my whole life with Rome and have been perfectly content.”
“I don’t understand,” I retort, genuinely confused.
“What I’m trying to say is that love is complex. You can love someone with every fiber of your being and still not be completely whole. Especially if you’ve given a piece of your heart to someone else. I know that not everyone is built like that. That their hearts could never conceive of loving more than one person at a time. And that’s perfectly understandable. Finding your other half is a rarity in itself. I get that. I thought I was like that too. But those beliefs changed when I met Ollie and Ash. And then again when Rome came into my life. You can’t choose who you love, Elle. You just do.”
I’m about to ask her what she means by that when the twins return to the room, putting an end to our conversation. While Ash goes on a tangent about how he plans to fix all the shit in our lives, my mind still lingers on what Holland tried to tell me.
Will I always feel like this?
That a piece of me is missing?
Even when Saint makes me happier than I have ever been?
The unsettling thought has me reeling.
There is no doubt in my mind that I love Saint. That he’s crawled his way into my heart and branded his name on it, claiming it as his own. But a part of me—the one I try desperately to shut out—still dreams of emerald green eyes shining brightly. Guilt that I still long for the boy that broke our hearts consumes me.
Those are the thoughts that live rent-free in my mind during the following days, only to have them summon the boy himself back into my life.
“What are you doing here?” I croak when Chad appears in the hospital cafeteria.
“Ollie called me. He told me what was going on with Holland, so I came by to see how she was doing.”
“Oh.” I fidget with the handle of my coffee mug. “That’s nice of you. I’m sure she’ll appreciate the visit.”
“Any news on a donor?”
I shake my head.
“Neither I nor my brothers are matches, unfortunately, but we’re still hoping someone will turn up.”
He nods.
“I’ve put up posters and flyers at school, urging everyone to get tested, to see if anyone will be a match. I have my own test already booked for tomorrow.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Of course. Holland is my friend too. I care about her,” he says softly, his voice like a caress I desperately want to ignore.
“Hmm.”
“What about you? How are you dealing with all of this?”
“As best as I can, all things considered.”
“Good. Good,” he mumbles, running his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, I hate how awkward we are right now. Don’t you?”
My brows pull together at the center of my forehead, knowing exactly what he means.
“Elle?” he insists. “Don’t you miss being able to tell me stuff? I used to know everything that went on in your life, and now I feel like I’m gawking in through a window just to get a small peek? Doesn’t that bother you at all?”
“It is what it is,” I mutter under my breath, trying hard to keep my voice even.
Unhappy with my reply, he suddenly pulls my chair sideways to face him, shocking me with his impulsiveness.
“I’m not a stranger, Elle. So stop treating me like one,” he orders, my throat drying at the intensity in his eyes. “I fucked up. I know I did. I own that. But stop icing me out. It’s killing me.”
“I’m not sure what you expect me to do?” I tell him honestly.
“Talk to me! Curse me out. Hit me if you have to. But stop ignoring me. I want to be here for you in the good and bad times, Elle. It’s killing me that you are going through this and that I can’t be here for you. That I can’t console you.”
“That’s not your job anymore. I have Saint.”
He pulls back as if the mention of Saint’s name just slapped him across the face.
“I know.” He bows his head, unable to look me in the eye.
“I didn’t mean to say that to hurt you. I’m just telling you my truth.”
“And I’m paying the price for not telling you mine,” he gruffly replies. “I know that, too. Maybe it’s too late to say any of it now.”
“Try.” I hear myself say, my heart thumping madly in my chest.
I watch his Adam’s apple bob, taking in a large gulp of air before he straightens in his chair and looks me in the eye.
“I should have told you when I started to develop feelings for him. I should have come right out and said it. But I was confused and worried that if I told you, you would push away from me. At first, I thought it was only a crush, something that would never jeopardize what I felt for you, and that with time my feelings for him would pass.”
“But they didn’t.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “They only intensified through the years, making me even more confused. Here I was, loving two people with all my heart, and neither of them knew about it.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“For the same reasons I didn’t come out and tell you right from the beginning what I was feeling. I was still coming to grips with it all, hoping that some epiphany would happen and give me some clarity. All I could do was keep you both at arm’s length until I figured my shit out, so neither of you would get hurt in the process.”
“Didn’t work out as well as you thought it would, huh?”
“Understatement of the century.” He chuckles nervously. “It blew up in my face, and I ended up losing you both.”
“You said that you didn’t tell us what you were feeling, but that’s a lie, too. You told Saint. But not me. Why?”
His emerald gaze turns soft as he stretches his hand to hold mine.
“I was hurting, and in a moment of weakness, I needed to share with someone what was going on with me. I needed to purge my sins to someone, and selfishly I put the burdens on him. I thought he could deal with my indecision better.”
“But not me?” I whisper, hurt, pulling my hand away from him. “Why?”
“Honestly? Because I was a coward. I placed my faith in Saint’s feelings for me that they wouldn’t change if I was honest with him. But with you? I was never sure about how you truly felt for me. Not as sure as I was with him.”
“Are you saying this is my fault?!” I blurt out indignantly.
“No! Shit! That’s not what I meant,” he stammers anxiously. “It’s just we had been best friends for so long I thought maybe that’s how you would always see me. But now I know it was just another lie I told myself. Deep down, I thought I wasn’t good for you. That you deserved better than what I could give you. But they were just more lies that kept me from following my heart. I never gave us a shot, and that’s on me.”
I pretend to clean the invisible lint off my skirt, letting his words sink in.
“If you could go back and undo it all, would you?” I finally ask.
“I ask myself that very question every day. Yeah, babe. I would have done anything to keep you in my life, even if it meant exposing my conflicting thoughts and hurting you in the process. Maybe if I had, I could have saved us.”
“What’s done is done. You can’t turn back the clock, no matter how much you want to,” I reply coolly, schooling my features just so he doesn’t see how his words are cracking my heart down the middle.
“I know.” He exhales loudly, looking just as defeated as I feel. “Can I ask
you a question? Does he make you happy?”
I nod.
“Do you love him?”
“Yes.”
His eyes squint at their corners, and a forlorn smile crests his lips.
“Then maybe this was how it was supposed to end all along. Maybe you and Saint are endgame, and I was just the means to bring you two together.”
“Is that really how you feel?” I croak, this time unable to hide the strangled cry.
“You don’t want to know how I feel, Elle.”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“No, babe. You don’t,” he retorts in agony, his stellar jeweled eyes watering with unshed tears. “Nothing good will come with me telling you my truth now. But one thing will always remain the same. That feeling will never change.”
“And what’s that?”
“That I love you. I have loved you since the first time I ever laid eyes on you.”
I swallow dryly as he pushes his chair away and falls to his knees, cradling his head on my lap before he picks up my hands and kisses the inside of my wrists.
“I sometimes lie in bed and think how could such a thing even be possible? To find your soulmate so young? But it happened. It happened to me. I still remember your mom laughing joyfully as she told us the story of the first day we met. Do you remember?”
I nod because, right now, I’m too much of a wreck to put words into sentences.
“She used to tell us that when she brought you in for your first day of kindergarten, I took one look at you, and that was that. I got up from my seat, walked over to you, grabbed your hand, and never parted from you after that. I didn’t realize at the time why she would always tell us that story. But now I do,” he adds woefully, placing another gentle kiss on my wrist. “She saw something in us that we were just too young to understand. But she did. She understood how it only took one second for me to fall in love with you. To know in my heart that you were mine and I was yours.”
My own tears start to fall as his voice starts to crack.
“My parents think it’s unhealthy for me to love you like I do. That it’s a codependency that I need to be free of. But they can’t grasp the magnitude of my love like your mom did. Ironic, isn’t it? My parents have love in their life, while she didn’t, and yet, she was the one to spot it before any one of us could.”
He tilts his head to the side, attentively wiping my tears away from my cheek with his thumb.
“I love you. I love you so much that your happiness will always be more important than mine. If Saint is the one that will bring that to you, then I’m content. You are the love of my life, Elle. Nothing will ever change that. But I’m tired of my love causing you pain. That’s not what I want. That’s not what I ever wanted. If Saint is who brings you joy, who lights you up from the inside, then I can live the rest of my days happy in knowing you are.”
“You’re talking like we’ll never see each other anymore.” I sob, unable to keep the overwhelming myriad of emotions contained.
“We will. Maybe in a few years’ time, when everything settles and the pain of losing you doesn’t hurt so much, we can even be friends again. Maybe that’s what was always in the cards for us to begin with. Just know that whatever happens, I’ll never stop loving you. You are my heart, Elle. You’re my girl. Always and forever. Never forget that.”
He closes the gap between us and presses a tender kiss to my lips, the taste of his tears mingling with my own. I find myself leaning into his kiss as his hand finds its way to the nape of my neck while the other cradles my cheek.
“Princess?”
The sound of Saint’s voice has Chad breaking our kiss and standing up on his feet. We both look behind him and see Saint standing in the middle of the cafeteria watching us. Chad throws me one more longing look over his shoulder, leaving me more bereft than I thought possible. I watch him walk over to Saint, whose broken expression has my heart crying out for him, too.
“Take good care of my heart, Saint. It’s yours now.” I hear Chad utter to him before walking out of the cafeteria and leaving both of us in complete shambles.
Chapter 21
Saint
After leaving Princess’ side back at the hospital, I roam the city streets trying to get my temper in check. Seeing her in his arms, his lips on hers, stirred something dark and potent in me. One kiss was all it took to jar loose familiar feelings of insecurity, jealousy, and want—fucking with my head as well as my heart.
Princess and I had something good going on, but it only took Boy Scout coming out of the shadows and kissing her, to remind us both how that chapter in our lives is far from being over. And by the way her golden eyes melted for him, it might never be.
Before I know where my feet are taking me, I find myself at the Murphy’s doorstep, ready to set my claim on the girl I love and confront him.
“Santo! I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight,” my Aunt Maggie says, surprised when she opens the door to find me standing there. “Are you here to see Doctor Murphy?”
“No, Tia. I’m not,” I reply gruffly, hurriedly bypassing her and ignoring her calling out to me.
When I reach his bedroom, I don’t even knock, preferring to slam the door behind me as my greeting card, locking it to ensure no one interrupts us.
“The hell?!” Boy Scout blurts out, coming out of his bathroom, looking freshly showered, tying his bathroom towel around his waist.
I pretend not to register how my cock stirs at the sight of water droplets still streaking down his broad chest to that deep V hidden by the fluffy white towel.
“What are you doing here, Santiago? I’ve said all I have to say to you,” he adds, crossing his arms over his chest while throwing me a disgruntled scowl.
This motherfucker.
“Oh, you have much more to say to me, Boy Scout,” I growl, pushing his chest with such force he has to take two steps back just to keep his balance.
His nostrils flare in anger, yet he makes no move to touch me.
“No, I don’t.”
“Oh, yes, you do. Take good care of your heart? What the fuck does that mean?”
He runs his hand through his wet blond locks, staring up at the heavens before he turns his attention back on me.
“I thought I was pretty clear. You won. You got my girl. Congratulations. Now get the fuck out of my house.”
“You fucking motherfucker.”
“Always the eloquent asshole,” he taunts, making me reach out my arm and grab hold of his neck.
“Don’t fucking patronize me, Blondie. You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Coming over to the hospital, playing like you’re some kind of martyr. Telling Elle that all you want is for her to be happy and that you’ve made your peace with us being together?! I know you. This is just some fucked-up reverse psychology bullshit, so Princess comes running back to you, isn’t it?”
His gaze flickers with hurt at my words but then instantly morphs into something darker, meaner. Crueler.
“What does she see in you?” He scoffs, cutting my insides with the jagged edge of his tone. “I’m not playing games, Saint. I meant every word that I told Elle. I do want to see her happy. Does it kill me that it’s not with me? Yes, of course, it does. But I love her enough to wish her all her heart’s content, even if it isn’t by my side.”
“You mean even if it’s by my side, right? That’s what really gets your panties in a twist, isn’t it, Blondie? That she dropped your ass and chose me instead.”
His fists curl at his sides, but he makes no move to untangle my grip from his throat.
“I’m curious. What was I to you? Just some itch you needed to scratch? Too unworthy to be with the girl of your dreams, but good enough to toy with?”
“You know exactly what you were,” he sneers.
“No, I fucking don’t.”
This time, he forcefully pulls my hand off his throat.
“It doesn’t matter what yo
u were to me. You’re nothing now.”
I swallow hard, trying to pretend he didn’t just suckerpunch me in the gut.
“I’m nothing, huh? Is that right?”
“Less than nothing.”
And before I realize what I’m doing, I throw the first punch right to his jaw. The fucker takes it like a pro, rubbing at it with a sinister, dark smile I’ve never seen on his lips before.
“That make you feel good? Hitting me?”
I breathe in and out in quick spurts, my nails biting into my palms, so I don’t hit him again.
“Is that why you’re here, Saint? To punch me in the face, even though you were the one who stabbed me in the back? Does that make you feel good? Does that make you feel more like a man?”
“Nah, Blondie,” I reply with the same malevolence in my tone as he’s using. “You know what makes me feel good? Having Princess under me, moaning my name when I’m nine inches deep inside her perfectly soaked cunt. When she cums on my cock repeatedly, clawing her nails into my back as she meets her maker. That makes me feel good, motherfucker.”
His left hook is good and true, knocking me on my ass and making me fall on his bed. He falls on top of me, swinging punches left and right while we both wrestle for dominance.
“I fucking loved you!” he shouts between jabs to my rib cage. “I put up with you fucking every goddamn skirt that walked in Pembroke. I put up with it because I knew you were suffering like I was. That I was the one who pushed you away. But then you had to take her from me. HER! Take the one person I told you I couldn’t live without. I fucking hate you! I fucking hate you!” he yells, plunging his fists into my face until his white duvet is covered in my blood.
Instead of hitting him back, I let him continue on his rampage, just so the physical pain can ease the misery he’s causing me with his words. My teeth rattle with every punch, my ribs burn with every hit, yet they feel like heaven compared to the bruises he inflicts on my soul with his hate. It’s only when he stops, his body hovering over mine, breathing hard, that my swollen eyes open to find tears streaming down his cheeks.
“I fucking hate you,” he whimpers hoarsely, wiping the blood from my lips with his bruised knuckles. “You ruined me. You fucking ruined me, Saint.”