25
EREDINE
I think I was in a state of shock.
My reaction to Arran finding my pointe shoes had stunned even me.
Once he was gone and the emptiness of the lodge crowded in, I came out of that feral state of fear and realized I’d reacted on instinct.
And so I hadn’t reacted to Arran as an individual—as a person I trusted—I’d just reacted.
I’d broken up with him.
For the past twenty-four hours, I’d vacillated between hating myself for that impulsive decision and reminding myself that maybe it was for the best. If this was still my response to the past, then maybe my gut was telling me I didn’t trust Arran.
Or maybe it was just fear.
I didn’t know.
I was a mess.
Arro called, and then Regan and Robyn and even Lachlan, but I ignored them.
I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, so I just sat on my couch and stared numbly at the TV, not even paying attention to what was on.
It really shouldn’t have been a surprise, then, to hear the gentle hum of a car engine.
Damn it.
I wanted to be alone to wallow in the horribleness of yesterday morning.
And panic flittered across my chest every time I thought of Arran.
Part of me wanted it to be him pulling up to the house, but I think I knew it wasn’t. Footsteps sounded on my porch. And then Arro peered into the living room.
Reluctantly, I got up and opened the door for her.
Her gaze swept over my bedraggled appearance, sympathy in her eyes.
She knew.
I guessed that was what all the calling was about.
Without a word, I slumped back toward the couch and threw myself on it.
Arro sat at the other end and placed her bag on the floor. “We’re worried about you,” she said.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, staring at the TV.
My friend reached for the remote on the coffee table and switched off the screen, forcing my attention to her.
“Why are you here, Arro?”
“Because my brother turned up at our place last night, shaken, distraught, and confused. He’s now nursing the world’s worst hangover after decimating a bottle of Mac’s favorite whisky.”
Guilt suffused me. And worry. “Is he okay?”
Her gaze narrowed. “No, he’s not okay. Are you okay?”
Tears burned my eyes, and I shook my head.
Arro’s expression softened. “Ery, you don’t need to tell me anything. My friendship is not contingent upon me knowing your deepest, darkest secrets, though I hope you know you can trust me. But … romantic relationships are different. Even if you don’t want to tell Arran some things … flying off the handle at him for opening a closet and then breaking up with him … It just means this was never supposed to work out between you.”
I wanted to protest. She didn’t know what it was like between me and Arran. She didn’t know how it felt to be in his arms or to talk with each other about our days before we fell asleep. Did she even know what a big deal it was for me to have him sleep over almost every night? “That’s not fair.”
She reached out to pat my knee, and part of me wanted to push her hand off. “You don’t trust him, Ery. If you did, you would have explained why him opening a closet door disturbed you.”
“It’s not about trust,” I blurted out in my need to defend my feelings for him.
“Then what’s it about?”
“Fear,” I whispered.
Concern puckered her brow. “Of Arran?”
“No. No, of course not.” I sat up. “I … I’ve been afraid for a really long time. Sometimes I forget about it. But then things will bring it back to the fore, like Lucy and Fergus trashing my studio, Austin attacking me … but after a while, I’d forget again. And with Arran”—the tears escaped fast and free—“I really thought maybe I could be unafraid now. But it’s always there, Arro. Like a demon on my back. And yesterday, I wasn’t me. I was my fear. I treated him so badly. I … I don’t deserve him.”
“Hush.” Arro pulled me into her arms, holding me tight as I shuddered through my tears. “No more talk of deserving. You need to talk to Arran. Tell him this.”
I shook my head. “He’s better off without me. Trust me.”
“Ery—”
I pulled out of her hold, brushing away my tears. “No. Yesterday just proved that I’m an emotional wreck. Your family has been through enough. Arran doesn’t need to take on my baggage.”
“That’s up to him to decide. And cutting him out without giving him the chance to decide for himself is wrong. Mac did that to me for so many years, and it broke my heart, Ery. Please don’t do that to my brother.”
A painful ache of guilt and remorse scored through me. It was only last year that Arro shared with me everything she and Mac had been through. I’d felt her pain that day and wished so much I could take it away.