"I wouldn't bother," said Russ, his cold sarcasm hitting me over the head like a bucket of cold water. He was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, one foot back against the wall. His eyes were colder than his voice, which I wouldn't have thought was possible. "They're having sex. You wouldn't be welcome right now."
I stopped. "They're—" My brain caught up with my mouth, and I gulped back more clueless words, shoving myself back into silence. They. Sahil's husband was home. Grant Fucking Ralstead.
Sahil would be so happy.
The joy slowly bled out of my day as I felt myself growing heavier and heavier. Just standing there, I suddenly felt as though I wouldn't be able to lift my feet and walk even one more step. There was no point going inside and eating. I would rather go hungry than risk smelling or seeing or hearing something I wouldn't be able to stand knowing.
Russ shoved himself away from the wall and stalked towards me, glaring. "You know you're a real piece of work, don't you? Wanting someone else's mate when you—"
"I know," I cut him off. It was old territory. "But it's none of your business. Why can't you just leave me alone?"
He reared back, looking more offended than ever. "And just how is it none of my business?" His arms were crossed again as he glared me down.
"It just isn't." My head felt heavy and thick, as if it were packed with cotton wool around the edges of thought and pain and all sense. "Why do you care? Stop poking at me. It hurts enough."
That was a pretty honest thing to say; I surprised even myself. If only I'd had more energy, I'd just have gotten into a fight with him like normal. Better that than admitting something he did or said hurt. Today, I just didn't have the energy to care anymore.
I turned from him and trudged back towards the garage. At least the engine wouldn't talk back and give me shit.
He ran to catch up with me. "And you think it doesn't hurt me?"
"It has nothing to do with you," I said wearily, not bothering to look at him. It would always be this way, wouldn't it? He'd never quit. My feelings for Sahil would never change, and I would be stuck in this painful limbo forever. Sahil was never going to love me the way I wanted, and Russ would always be here, shoving his nose in where it wasn't wanted, poking at me and poking at me till I wanted to scream from the pain.
Sometimes I just wanted out. It wasn't a happy life anymore. Maybe it never had been.
"Stop it!" he snapped, catching hold of my shoulder and giving it a rough shake. "Stop doing this to yourself — and to me!"
I wasn't doing anything to him, and he knew it. I couldn't even summon the energy to yell at him. I just stared, speechless. How could he make everything about him? He had nothing to do with this. Nothing.
Do you get some joy out of tormenting me? Why don't you just leave me alone?
He stared at me, his expression tight, with a twist of anger at his mouth. His eyes did look hurt, although he was being ridiculous. "You need to stop this," he told me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "He's never going to—"
"I know!" I gave him a shove, but even that lacked my usual heat. "You're not telling me anything I don't know, okay?" Why couldn't he understand this? I took a deep breath. "My feelings aren't something I can be talked out of. Haven't you ever wanted something you couldn't have, wanted it so badly you couldn't stand it, even though you knew it was never going to happen?"
"Of course I—"
I shook my head, looking away. "You don't understand." I hated that there were tears in my eyes. I hated being weak in front of anyone, but especially Russ. Something about him always put me on edge, on defense, with a prickling, irritated feeling of needing to be on my guard. "You don't understand what it's like."
"I don't?"
He touched my chin and turned my face slightly to look at him. He searched my gaze with his own startled one, really looking at me, almost as if it was for the first time. Maybe he saw my hopelessness as it was, or something like that, because for once he didn't push at me with snide words designed to cut, to remind me of how stupid I was to want a man I could never have.
"You don't think that I—" he began, then cut himself off with a shake of the head. "According to you, I don't understand because I could never feel that way, right?" His gaze was stern but a little bit teasing, too.
My heart sank a little. "Are you in love with Sahil, too?" One more rival whose equal I would never be. Not that there was any point in thinking of rivals, since Sahil was happy with the man he'd already chosen. He was never going to love me or Russ that way.
Russ threw back his head and laughed. It was a helpless sort of laugh, not without pain. "No! Not Sahil. I'd never—" He shook his head, swallowing his laughter, and searched my gaze again. There was something new in his eyes. Wonder, amazement. Confusion, maybe, and the beginning of a weird sort of hope.
"You're not acting like yourself," I pointed out. "Maybe you'd better go get some sleep before you get sick and die. That would be a real shame." I made shooing movements with my hands. And maybe he could leave me the fuck alone while he was at it?
"Yeah. No. I'll bring you something to eat, and you'll eat it, and then I'll watch you work on your engine."
"Don't tell me what to do."
I stared at him in astonishment. Pushy, much? I'd opened up to him and really bared my soul, and now he was taking the opportunity to push me around, thinking I was weak. I gave his shoulders a quick, rough shove, making him take a step back quickly. I glared at him, recovering some of my strength.
I would fight him now if I had to. At least that might make him stop looking at me this way, with this gleaming, intense, interested sort of expression that made me feel prickly all over and a little ill. I shouldn't have shared that with him. I shouldn't have let him see me hurt. It was none of his business. He didn't have to look so triumphant, did he?
