22

When the red light suddenly blinks off on my laptop, I freeze, my face falling. A wave of humiliation washes over me as I close my legs and lower them before sitting up, my eyes fluttering shut.

“Fuck,” I whisper, realizing this is it.

Rook has officially given up and who could blame him? I was stupid for playing that game, immature even, but I haven’t been able to get him out of my mind since that night.

I’ve text him. I’ve tried to call, but he’s just not answering me. He said he would still be my big brother, but maybe I’m just being pushy because deep down, I know, this isn’t what I want. I don’t want him to just be my big brother. I want him. All of him. All of us.

My eyes sting with unshed tears, thinking about how I didn’t get a chance to truly take in our Christmas Eve together. After I woke up late Christmas day, I was in my bed, alone, and he was gone. He’d left me to pick up the pieces of everything he'd shattered. After getting myself together, having a shower and slipping in some Christmas pajamas to spend the holiday alone, my dad turned up announced, demanding answers about where I had been. He was fucking furious.

After some time, I managed to spin a story that I was left stranded and he made me take him to my car, which luckily was still there. He asked about Blaise, and I told him that I didn’t want to see him anymore. He tried to convince me otherwise, as always. Said he was a good man and all that bullshit, but I saw different. Blaise is a grade A cunt, and I don’t want to see him ever again. Especially after smacking him over the head with a frying pan.

Eventually, my dad agreed, luckily. But even though I feel some ease right now—like he’s off my back and I’m not being forced to be with Blaise—Rook still looms in the back of my mind, like a dark cloud. His touch still burns hot on my skin, his claim too deep for me to scrub away. He’s all I fucking think and dream about, more than ever, and nothing I do can change it. I know this will take time. So much time. Losing someone you love, whether it’s through death or just... being gone, is a process.

But this past week, I’ve done something I never thought I would—I’ve been trying to find ways to be with Rook, freely, even though I know deep down it’s impossible. Every path my heart tries to take is blocked by a fucking tombstone—my dad.

So tonight, if I’m brave enough, I’ll finally tell him the truth about how I feel about Rook. I haven’t really said it before, not even once, because even just mentioning his name has been shaky ground since he caught us. I know his reaction will be explosive, and that scares the shit out of me. But I can’t keep holding on, can’t keep pretending. I can’t keep living like this.

I’m hoping that, if he hears it from my lips—his daughter, his only child—maybe, just maybe, he’ll see that Rook is who I want.

Unless, of course, I’ve already lost Rook. Which, there’s always that big possibility.

I sigh and get to my feet, forcing my body to walk toward my wardrobe. I pick out a black, elegant dress and a matching pair of heels, tossing them onto the bed. My dad will expect me to be glammed up to the nines to parade me around no doubt.