Chapter 51 Garrett
Garrett
I’d had enough.
When Aitor told me he was inviting Aslan to the party, I never thought my lion would actually say yes. I said it would break my heart if he did, and here I was, fucking heartbroken—just as predicted.
And yeah, I know—what kind of asshole rejects someone, pushes them away, rubs someone else in their face, and still expects them to just… wait? Hurt quietly? Stay available?
I guess me.
I was that kind of asshole.
I couldn’t be with him. That was non-negotiable. That was survival.
But that didn’t mean he got to be with anyone else. Especially not my fucking best friend. Especially not right in front of my fucking face. And absolutely not dressed like some Roman war god with half his chest out and that stupid laurel crown making him look untouchable.
Yeah. I was that kind of possessive, selfish, egotistical bastard.
Every time I looked up from the bar, he was there. Laughing. Dancing. Letting people touch him. Letting Aitor touch him.
By the twentieth slow dance they had—okay, maybe it was two, maybe the other eighteen were with my traitorous sister—I’d had enough.
When Aitor brushed his lips against Aslan’s forehead, something inside me snapped so clean I almost heard it. I thought I might actually roll a couple of heads across that dance floor.
And then I saw him walk away.
Smiling. Flushed. A little tipsy, if I had to guess. Beautiful in that dangerous, unaware way that made people think they could have him.
That was it.
I didn’t even think. I didn’t plan.
I just moved.
I shoved past whoever was in my way, ignoring Trisha calling my name, ignoring Aitor’s glare from across the room, ignoring the voice in my head telling me to let it go.
Let him go.
Fuck that.
He was mine.
Not publicly. Not officially. Not in any way that made sense.
But mine.
And when the bathroom door swung shut behind him, I had to follow.
I pushed the door open and locked it behind me before he could even finish washing his face.
He didn’t turn around immediately. He saw me in the mirror and sighed as if he already suspected I was coming but wasn't happy about it.
“Having fun with my sister and my best friend?” I asked, stepping closer. My voice was low, rough from alcohol and something darker. “Are you trying to take them all away from me?”
He turned slowly, water still dripping from his jaw.
“You are the one stealing everything from yourself, Garrett. Remember? This was your choice.”
The calm in his voice made me want to break something.
“Of course,” I laughed bitterly. “And how convenient that there's a line of assholes ready to take my place, right? Or no, wait, let me guess… You would've rather me choose you…”
His face darkened with sudden sadness. “I would rather you do what makes you happy.”
That did it.
I closed the distance and grabbed him by the front of that ridiculous leather chest piece, shoving him back until his shoulders hit the stall door with a hard metallic clang.
“What if this makes me happy, cub?” I demanded, breath hot with tequila. “Bullying you. Hurting you. Watching you pretend you don’t care while you rub yourself all over anyone who gets close?”
His jaw tightened.
“You don’t get to do that,” he said quietly.
“Do what?” I shoved him again.
“Come in and out of my life. If you're out, stay the fuck out.” He challenged me. “I don't wanna see you around.”
“Really? That's why you showed up half naked in that costume like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing? Laughing. Letting them touch you. Letting Aitor put his hands on you like you belong to him when you know I'm watching?”
“Get off me, Garrett. I don’t belong to anyone,” he snapped. “You don't control me.”
I grabbed his face, harder than I meant to, fingers digging into his jaw.
“Right… You like having the control, huh, lion? Makes you feel powerful.”
His breathing changed.
“But you don’t have any,” I continued, leaning closer, our noses almost touching. “I’m in charge.”
“I told you to get off me,” he warned.
The warning in his voice should’ve stopped me.
It didn’t.
“Why? You like me when I’m down so you can control me? Break me?” I hissed. “That’s what this is, right? You don’t want me strong. You want me desperate.”
His expression didn’t soften this time.
It hardened, and something dark flashed behind his eyes.
“Don’t you dare put this on me,” he snapped, voice sharp now. “You don’t get to twist your mess into my fault. I did what you fucking asked!”
He shoved me hard enough that I stumbled back, losing my footing and hitting the ground.
The bathroom door swung open behind me just then. Rick walked in with two of his usual shadows and froze at the sight.
Their eyes went from me to Aslan to his hand still half-raised.
Judgment flashed across their faces as Rick reached down, trying to help me up.
Aslan took that second to move around me and leave.
Shoving Rick’s hand away, I jumped to my feet and followed him out into the hallway, grabbing him again and slamming him back against the wall just outside the bathroom.
“Don’t fucking walk out on me.”
“Or what?!” he shot back, our usual sick game.
I honestly don't know what I would've responded to that, but for better or worse, Jesus appeared from the crowd, getting between us to bring peace. “What the fuck, Garrett?”
Olivia was right behind him. “Enough.”
I felt their eyes on me. Felt the shift in the room. Felt the moment slipping out of my control.
I looked at Aslan.
His chest was rising fast. His eyes weren’t scared.
They were tired.
I leaned in close enough that only he could hear me.
“I hate you.”
Then I stepped back and raised my hands like this was nothing, like this was all a joke.
“Relax,” I said loudly, smirking. “We were just playing around, right, lion?”
The room waited.
I didn’t.
The second I saw Aitor wrap an arm around my lion’s shoulder, I turned and walked away before anyone could answer.
I passed Trisha on the dance floor. She smiled at me—bright, happy, completely oblivious—moving to the music with her friends like nothing in the world was burning down.
I stepped over the Do Not Enter cord and headed downstairs, straight into one of the storage rooms.
The same one I’d dragged Aslan into the last time we were here.
Fuck.
The air felt smaller in there. Thicker. Like it remembered.
I couldn’t outrun it. The memories. The images.
I couldn’t outrun him.
I leaned my back against the same wall I’d pinned him to before and let myself slide down until I hit the floor.
And then I broke.
Not the usual frustrated, angry, punch-the-wall kind of breakdown. Not the self-pity spiral I could snap out of.
This was different.
This one came from somewhere deeper. Quieter. It ripped out of me without permission—raw, ugly, shaking sobs I couldn’t swallow back.
My chest hurt.
My throat burned.
And for the first time in a long fucking time, I wasn’t crying because I was angry or under their trance.
I was crying because I had just destroyed the only thing that’d ever made me feel anything good at all.