When I Was Theirs

26. Jared

26

Jared

I can feel the anger dripping from my mouth like poisoned blades, weapons angled directly for Emilia. Hell, I’m not even sure that I fucking mean them. But the anger churning in my chest needs an outlet.

Although… Nobody just rocks up and volunteers to care for someone in their final stages without expecting something in return.

Nobody is that decent.

Nobody that I’ve ever met, anyway.

Nobody is that—

Careful. Don’t go there.

“My brother is a good person,” I say firmly. “But I’m not my brother. I will not let you take advantage of him.”

She’s still silent. Pale, as she watches me. Her knuckles are white on the washing basket filled with my brother’s clothes, and I hate the fucking sight of it.

I hate all of it.

Finally, she opens her mouth. “You’re right.”

I frown, but she cuts me off, stepping closer until the edge of the basket is pushing into my chest.

“Ben is a good person,” she says quietly. Her words are measured, and all the more impactful as I have to lean closer to hear her. “But you – how dare you walk in here and accuse me of using him, when you fucking left him . Where the hell were you when he needed you?”

You fucking left him.

Now I’m the one that flinches, her blow knocking the air out of me. “That’s not—,”

But she takes another step. Emilia barely reaches my shoulder, but she lifts her chin and meets my eyes.

“I stayed,” she says fiercely. “Because I found the person I would have chosen to spend the rest of my life with, and this is all the time I get to have with him. We don’t get a happy ending, Jared. We only get this. So I’m taking it, and I will appreciate every damn day that I get to have with him. And maybe you don’t understand that, but that doesn’t give you the right to judge me. You certainly do not intimidate me. And since we’re having this discussion, I don’t want a fucking penny from your brother, and I can tell you that I would rather crawl on my knees in the gutter than ever accept a single fucking thing from you .”

She shoves the basket into my hands and turns away without waiting for a response. “You can take the couch tonight.”

I’m left holding the clothes, blinking as her words sink in. Closely followed by a healthy dose of shame.

I turn to watch as she heads to the couch, fussing with the bedding already laid out before she grabs a blanket and wraps it around her shoulders, stalking out onto the balcony.

Not before pausing to check on Ben, though. Her hand reaches out, and I zero in on the shaking in her fingers before she walks away.

You do not intimidate me.

Shit.

My eyes travel over the furniture in this apartment. The couch. The bed my brother is sleeping in, oblivious to the argument I’ve just caused between us. A small closet in the corner. A sideboard, a few small lamps.

There’s not much else here. It’s a bedsit, with only the bathroom separate.

Quietly, I walk toward the balcony, glancing out to the view of the ocean. And then… down.

Emilia is sitting on the terracotta tiled floor, her legs dangling through the railings and the blanket around her shoulders.

“There’s no other bed here, is there?”

She doesn’t look around. “Just take the couch. It’s the middle of the night. You traveled for hours.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“I’m not tired.”

Bullshit. Exhaustion is embedded in her face, that level of tiredness you only reach when you have to be on alert, all of the time, every second of every day in case something goes wrong.

It’s a level that you only reach if you care enough.

I think I may have fucked up here.

“I’ve spent too long without him to waste it on sleeping now.” I cross my arms. “Take the couch. Get some rest. I’ll watch over him tonight.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

I force myself to take a breath. “You won’t be any good to him if you’re exhausted.”

“Because now you care?” She snorts, still staring out toward the ocean. “Thirty seconds ago I was a gold-digging whore.”

“I… I didn’t call you a whore.”

She laughs, but there’s a harsh edge to it. An edge that sounds like a sob. “Please go back inside.”

I should.

I should go back inside.

Instead, I find myself settling down beside her. My back to the railings, so I can see through the doors to where my brother sleeps.

And see her face.

Her jaw firms as she glances at me and then back to the ocean. “I’m regretting calling you already.”

There’s no heat in her words.

“Thank you.” I keep my eyes on Ben. “For calling.”

She swallows. “He… he forgot your number, you know. Not you . Your phone number. He couldn’t remember the digits. Not until today. I tried to track you down, but you’re difficult to find.”

I could have come sooner.

Could have been here for longer.

I look at her then. Her face is pressed to the railing, her features shadowed. “I’m sorry I said all that.”

She half-shrugs. “Could’ve been true, I suppose.”

“It’s not, though.”

We sit silently.

“No,” she says at last. And I can hear the pain in her words. The fear. “No, it’s not.”

The silence stretches on.

I don’t look at her again for a long time. When I do, she’s asleep, her head leaning forward against the cold metal.

It looks uncomfortable.

I shift in place, debating.

Her head lolls back against my shoulder as I stand and bend down, carefully lifting her. I wait for her to wake up – brace for another argument – but she’s tired enough that she doesn’t move as I carry her inside and place her down on the couch, pulling a few of the blankets over her.

I snag one for myself, moving over to sit in the chair beside Ben.

And I settle in.

But I can’t stop my eyes flickering between them.

My brother.

And the girl that loves him.