Page 23 of Renegade Rift
“Juliet,” I whisper.
Her fists tighten, scrunching the comforter between her fingers, and she turns back to face me. Gone are the tears, replaced with waves of anger and determination. “I’m only going to say this once. Don’t pretend to know my life or who I am. You left and didn’t look back. You don’t get to waltz in here like some knight in shining armor and pretend like you care.”
Maybe it’s the past haunting me, or that I don’t really want to fight with her, but I whisper, “You’re right.”
Juliet’s chest rises with a big breath, like she intends to keep reaming me, but after hearing my confession, her shoulders fall. She blinks, registering the answer she wasn’t expecting. “What?”
“You’re right.” I push off the dresser and close the space between us. Her eyes go wide, and the hint of apprehension stops me at her feet. Lowering myself to the bed, I make sure there is no part of me touching her. Maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe I’m pushing too much, but I want her to know I’m not going anywhere.
The cat hisses at me, and I hiss back, earning me a soft laugh from Juliet. He doesn’t move from her lap, so I think it’s safe to assume for the moment I’m not going to get clawed.
“Listen, there are a million reasons why you shouldn’t trust me. I know I don’t deserve to be the one to help you.” She opens her mouth but closes it again without saying a single word. Her lips form a tight line, like she’s trying to hold back whatever it is she wants to say. I almost ask her to speak freely, but instead press on as honestly as I can. “I fucked up with Tyler. There are so many days I regret not fighting to make him come with me. Fuck, I should have just thrown him over my shoulder and forced him into the damn car.”
A slight chuckle escapes her. “So, you’ve always had Hulk tendencies.”
I huff. “Maybe a little.”
Her eyes fall to her lap. “He wouldn’t have let you take him.”
“No.” I shake my head, echoing my words. “He made that perfectly clear when he refused to come.”
Her head snaps up, lips parted in confusion. “Wait, what?”
“What do you mean, what?”
“He refused to go with you?”
I don’t care for the hint of hurt in her tone. It sparks the same rage inside me that seeing Earl with his hands on her did.
I point to the crooked spot on my nose that never healed quite right. “He broke my face when I told him, if he stayed, his father would eventually turn on him.”
“But—” Her throat bobs, and she chokes on a half breath. “He said you and your mother left him there on purpose. He said you told him the two of you hated him and wanted him to suffer.”
“Why would we…” More of the pieces fall together. Her hatred of me makes a lot more sense. I’ve known for a long time I was the villain in the narrative Tyler twisted. He made it perfectly clear he hated me for leaving him with his abusive father. But what was I supposed to do? The man beat my mother to the point she almost needed a breathing tube. There was no way I was letting her stay in that house. Especially when I was leaving for college that summer.
Wetting my lips, I force my gaze to meet Juliet’s and silently beg for her to hear me. “I’ve never forgiven myself for walking away. My mother loved Tyler until her dying breath. He and I might have had our differences, but I never wanted him to suffer.”
Juliet’s eyes widen like I’ve grown a dick out of the center of my forehead. “I—that’s not what he told me.”
“I’m getting that now.”
Silence cuts between us. It reminds me of the scary moments during a game when someone gets injured and the entire stadium goes quiet. Everyone sits on their hands waiting to see if the player moves. Wondering if he okay. The longer he stays down, the more questions swirl. What does this mean for the future of the game? The team? His career?
I can’t help but wonder the same for Juliet and me. There’s still so much left unsaid, but this airing of truths feels like we’re moving in the right direction.
Until she proves me wrong with a sigh and a single sentence.
“It doesn’t change anything.”
Butshe’swrong.
And I can’t live with that answer.
I rise from the bed with a simple plan forming in my mind. Taking a step toward her, I smile when she doesn’t flinch. It widens when the cat only pins his ears instead of hissing.
Progress.
“Give me your phone.” I say more than ask, reaching out my hand.
