My Darling Arrow (St. Mary's Rebels 1)

“So? I don’t owe you the truth, do I? I don’t owe you anything. And I told you to stay out of it. I told you to stop asking questions because this is my life. And it has nothing to do with you but you wouldn’t listen.”

I suppress the pain in my chest at her callous words. I suppress the urge to scream, I’m your sister. Doesn’t that mean something to you?

But again, this isn’t about me. It’s about him.

“What about him? You owed the truth to him, didn’t you?” I ask, my arm going numb in her grip. “How could you do that to him? You slept with his best friend. Not once but for months and you lied about it.”

“Listen, I don’t need this from you, okay? I don’t need you to tell me what’s right and what’s wrong. I did what I did because I was trying to save our love. I lied to him to spare him the hurt and I won’t apologize for it. Once we were married, I would’ve stopped and none of this would’ve happened.”

I fist my hands, seeing my sister in a new light. “God, are you listening to yourself? You were having an affair with another man. Behind Arrow’s back. He loved you. He loved you so much, Sarah. And you loved him. God, I thought you loved him. I thought your love was this… epic, untouchable thing and I…”

I was wrong.

I was so wrong.

Because how can this be love?

How can months of lying be love? How can you hurt someone the way Sarah has hurt Arrow if you love them?

You can’t hurt them.

That’s the thing about love. You can’t hurt the one you love, not deliberately. Not the way Sarah has done.

So I was wrong about everything. And Sarah was right. She told me not to meddle and yet, I didn’t listen.

I meddled and brought them together and now he’s gone somewhere and I’m having this argument with my sister. The sister I thought could do no wrong.

God, I’ve been so naïve.

I don’t even know my own sister.

“You don’t do that to a person you love. You don’t hurt them like that. And he’s hurting. Arrow’s… hurting.”

You killed my heart…

My own heart writhes in pain and I have to let out a gasp.

No wonder he’s been so angry and so changed.

No wonder he believes he’s empty and that love brings nothing but pain.

“How do you know he’s hurting?” she asks, her voice gone all thick and accusing.

“What?”

She jerks my arm, digs her manicured nails into my flesh. Even through my thick, chunky sweater, I feel like she’ll break my skin.

“He’s supposed to be just your soccer coach, right? How do you know what he’s going through? Besides, aren’t you a little too concerned about a guy you don’t even like?” She narrows her perfect golden eyes at me. “You don’t like him, isn’t that correct? You’d leave the room every time he’d enter. You wouldn’t even talk to him. Wouldn’t go near him. So since when do you call A Arrow? Or maybe you’ve been lying too.”

My heart, in all its witchy glory, jumps in my throat.

The tear tracks on my cheeks burn and blaze, under my sister’s shrewd eyes.

“Maybe you’re so concerned about Arrow because you like him yourself,” she taunts. “I can see that. He has that appeal. Girls throw themselves at him all the time. Why wouldn’t you? Do you like him, Salem?”

I shake my head. “I… I don’t… It’s not about that.”

She bends down and grips my arm harder. “You do, don’t you?”

I squirm in her grip, my body burning in shame. “Sarah, let me go.”

Her eyes shine with maliciousness and her nails almost draw blood out of my skin. “I want you to listen to me, okay? If you have any ideas about Arrow, you should take them out of your stupid little head right now. He’s mine. He’s a little angry right now because the wound is fresh. But we have eight years together. That’s what you told me, right? Eight years of love. Eight years of history. One mistake can’t erase that. I won’t let it. We belong together. He has to come back to LA sometime and when he does, I’ll be waiting for him. And if that’s not enough to make you understand and end your foolish fantasies, then let me tell you something else. He’ll never be interested in someone like you. Someone so aimless and ambitionless. An embarrassment. That’s what you are. Even Mom was embarrassed by you. She wouldn’t show it but I knew. How could she not have been? You’re an anomaly. Someone who shouldn’t have been born in our family. A big, fat stain. And you’ll be something else too, if you even dare to make a play for him, for my boyfriend. Something far worse. You’ll be a whore, okay? Because that’s what they call a girl who goes after someone else’s man.”