CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 24
None of us do during the hour it takes to get to my street. I spent the time staring out at the rain, trying my hardest not to cry. It was barely working. Because all I could think about was how I'd brought it on myself. Hadn't Ezequiel made it abundantly clear from the start that he wasn't interested in feelings? Had I? But I went against my own instincts, my own warnings inside me, my own mind telling me that what I had with them could never be more than physical. I let Jeremiah's words in the shower make me forget Ezequiel's words. I allowed my heart to take over my mind. I did what I swore I'd never do, and I loved. Now, I'm loving and hurting. Now, I wonder what I did to make Ezequiel see me the same way he saw his ex. Now, I want to rage while I cry because I knew better.

I. Knew. Better.

The car starts to slow down as we pull up in front of my apartment, and I open the door before Jeremiah comes to a complete stop.

"Laury, wait!" Jeremiah shouts behind me.

With Jeremiah and Ezequiel's suitcase, there wasn't room for mine in the trunk of the rental car. I'm grateful for that now, as I lean back to grab the handle of my luggage. I roll it behind me as I walk quickly down the path. However, I hear a door open and close behind me, as I desperately try to find the right key. My shaky hand makes it difficult.

“Laury, please,” Jeremiah begs behind me.

Of course, it would be Jeremiah who would come after me. Not the man who broke my heart. I reached my door and saw his shadow moments before he was at my side.

—Laury, let me explain.—

“Explain what?” I ask, wanting to be strong, but it comes out hoarse.

I hate the way he frowns when he gets close to me. But I can't let him touch me. Not when I know his touch would break me.

—Just...just give him some time to realize how wrong he is—.

—And I'm supposed to keep fucking a man who basically said he'll never see me as anything more than a faggot to bury himself in?—

—He doesn't see you that way and you know it.—

But he doesn't. And I'm not going to wait for him to discover I'm not another woman. I deserve better than that.

"Yes, I know." He nods. "But I want you to give it another chance anyway."

Just like you wanted me to let love into my heart, and look where that damn thing has gotten me. Sitting here, heartbroken because I fell in love with two men, and one of them wants nothing to do with me except what's between my thighs.

Her head snaps back, and her surprise makes me realize what I just said. What I just confessed.

"Shit," I mutter.

—W-what did you just say?—

I look away from him, determined to put the key in the doorknob so I can escape all of this.

"It doesn't matter anymore," I say.

—Of course it matters, Laury. That's all that matters.

—Not him. Clearly.—

Don't let his self-centeredness control your feelings. Everything he said can't surpass the words I just heard coming out of your mouth, because your words are the truth, and he'll realize his aren't.

I can't take the risk, Jeremiah. I already took the risk, and now I'm here broken because I ignored Ezekiel, who said he didn't want any feelings involved in this... whatever we have. Whatever we had.

\-No no.-

There's a pleading in his voice as his hand rests on my face, turning me to look at him. And yes, just as I thought, his touch undoes me. The tears I've been holding back flood my eyes, clouding his face.

—Please don't say "had." I'm begging you. Don't think this is the end of us. I don't know what I'd do without you, and I know Zek feels the same. I know it. It's in his every word and action.

—Yeah, well, what I heard loud and clear in that car was that he doesn't love me, that he doesn't trust me, and that he doesn't want me. I turn the knob and open the door. His hand slips from my face as I walk away. —I need you to go. Just go.

I hate that his downcast face makes me want to hug him, to tell him that, somehow, everything will work out in the end. But I don't know how. I don't see it. Not after everything Ezequiel said. Not when I know I can't have one brother without the other.

"I don't want to hurt you, Jer," I croak. "I swear. But I can't stay with you and him, not after what he said."

"I won't let you go, Laury," he says.

I muster all the willpower in me to answer, “You’ll have to.”

I hear a door close and I snap to see Ezequiel, standing by the side of the road. I thought I longed to see him with Jeremiah, telling me it was all a lie. Pleading with me not to give up. But now that I see him take his first steps down the path, I realize I was wrong. I don't want to look at him. I don't want to hear his voice. I don't want his platitudes or his excuses. Anger overcomes me enough to drag my luggage inside. Jeremiah turns his head to look at Ezequiel over his shoulder, and I, cowardly, use that moment to enter my apartment.

Go, Jeremiah. And take him with you.

Jeremiah's eyes meet mine as he opens his mouth, but I can't hear what he says because I'm slamming the door in his face. I can't turn away from it. Not even when I hear Jeremiah and Ezequiel starting to argue on the other side. I squeeze my eyes shut as they curse each other. Part of me wants Ezequiel to break down the door and hug me, to kiss this pain away. The other part wants Jeremiah to do what I told him and leave, taking his brother with him.

"I just need to talk to her," Ezequiel says.

"You've said enough, haven't you?" Jeremiah snaps. "She doesn't want anything to do with you right now, so respect that."

There's a brief silence before I hear the sound of gravel under my shoes. I open my eyes and stare at the white paint until I can't hear it anymore, until I feel like they're gone. Only then do I let the tears fall. Only then do I release the shaky breath that's been trapped in my chest since I heard Ezequiel's words. Only then do I let the pain overwhelm me.

Two days later, I still don't feel like the pain is gone. I haven't done anything but eat, though I can barely taste it, or shower, though I feel like I'm crying underwater. And I sleep, though it takes hours to reach and relieve this constant pain.

I haven't even unpacked my luggage; I've only taken out my toothbrush and phone charger. I regret even doing that now, because another text from Jeremiah arrives. I only know it's him because of his name appearing on the screen along with the incoming message, but, like every other one since he and Ezekiel walked away from my door, I don't open it. I don't even reach for my phone to unlock it and see if Ezekiel has texted me back. I know he hasn't, which only makes everything worse.

Doesn't he care that he clearly sees his brother texting me in our group chat and me not responding? Doesn't he regret what he said? Did he change his mind and decide I'm not his ex and that I didn't deserve what he said? I don't know, and I'm trying to convince myself that I don't want to know either. But I'm just lying to myself. Because of the pain I swore I'd never allow myself to feel, I love Ezekiel. I love Jeremiah. And I want them here right now, if only while they hold me silently while I convince myself I'm not stupid for falling for them. I want Jeremiah to keep texting me, even though I know I can't read his words because it would only make the pain worse. Even though I know I can't have him anymore, and that whatever he's saying, no matter how sweet it is because I know it will be, can't mean what I want now. I was afraid Jeremiah would get caught between two heartless people. Now, he's caught between a heartbroken person and another who denies having the heart to feel anything.

My phone rings, and I hate the way I look at it, waiting for it to say one of their names, even though I have no intention of answering. But it says my mother's name.

—Of course. It's Sunday, I murmur to myself.

I'd forgotten. I put my phone back down, but then I remembered the last time I missed our call. She called me a couple more times, even texted me, and when I didn't answer, she drove three hours to make sure I was okay. I don't want to do that to her again, nor do I want her to show up. So I pick up my phone again, clearing my throat as I swipe across the screen, but I can still hear the rasp in my voice as I greet her.

—Hi, Mom.—

She doesn't notice that I've been crying at all, because she's crying too.

—Oh, Laury. She left me—, she sobs.

I've heard that same sound, those same words, so many times in my life. I've seen the tears running down her cheeks. I've seen her bewildered by the end of another great love. Today I don't have the energy or the patience for that, but still, I close my eyes, preparing to speak the words I've always spoken.

\-What happened?-

He said I was too dependent, that I needed too much of his attention and time. I, dependent, Laury.

I sigh so softly that she can't hear me. She can be very clingy, but I've always believed it was because she was desperately trying to hold on to the wrong men.

—I told him I could change, demand less of him, but he...—

"Why should you, Mom?" I interrupted her.

—W-what?— he croaks.

Why do you have to change? Why do you have to diminish yourself to be what he needs? Why can't he be the one who gives you more? Why do you always change for them, but never expect them to change for you?

There's a moment of silence, and I know it's probably partly due to her surprise at seeing me speak to her like this. I've always comforted her and told her part of the truth: that she wasn't deserved. But today I don't have that ability. To soothe her pain, to reassure her, so she knows someone will come along who will treat her better. I'm angry. I'm hurt. I'm disappointed. And, unfortunately, I'm noticing it in my conversation with her.

"You know how it is when you're in love," he says. "You do whatever it takes to keep it."

“So why do they never do their best to keep you?” I ignore her sharp gasp to continue. “You give and give, and for what? To have them abandon you in the end, tell you you’re too much, too this, and too that? To have you beg them to stay, only for them to walk away? When are you going to stop and realize they’re not the love of your life? They’re just the next man you’ll try to be good enough for.”

"How can you talk to me like that?" he asks hoarsely. "All I've done is show you what love could be and should be."

"Should I?" she laughed haughtily. "All you've done is terrify me of loving someone and end up like you. Desperate for them to love me, and empty when it becomes clear they don't."

I've shown you that love demands that you give everything. I gave it my all time and time again, as you've pointed out, and you know what, in the end I don't regret it. I gave them everything I had, and if they weren't smart enough, genuine enough, to realize that, to appreciate it, then their loss.

But don't you see that by giving it your all, you've lost your identity? What do you like, Mom? What's your favorite food, your favorite show, your favorite... whatever? You don't know because you're waiting for the next man to tell you who you are and what you like. How do you think I felt growing up, watching this woman who knew she was my mother, but feeling like I never knew who she really was, because she didn't even know anything about herself except what her man of the month wanted from her? Because she was constantly changing—not evolving, but shifting, Mom. Taking on a whole new persona because it was what looked best on a man I barely knew. You think you were teaching me that love demands everything when you should have been teaching me that love doesn't require you to change, but will only make you better.

—Should I have given up on love and shown you that it was better to be alone and miserable?—

Why does love make you so happy? Aren't you in the version of love you think you are, crying right now? Did I think I'd found love, and now I'm sitting here with a broken heart, too?

"What?" she exhales.

My eyes widened and I cursed. “Nothing. Forget what I said.”