“You jerk. You have to stop doing that! You scared me half to death.” I tried to return Rocco's glare, but nobody threw shade like my brother. With my body still suffering the aftereffects of the sneak attack, I prayed he wouldn’t notice how my hands trembled.
“Yeah? Well, you scared me,” he snarled. “So I guess we’re even.” Perma-scowl in place, Rocco's fury made me even more resentful. I was angry at him, but even more so at myself. Since he was perfectly good target, I directed all of my shame and frustration and fury at the tiny wrinkle between Rocco’s dark brows.
“I guess we are,” I snapped back. No way was I in the mood to deal with Rocco's issues. Not when I had so many of my own crashing down on me. I stepped around him and headed for my room.
“Hey! Don't you dare walk away from me.”
Oh no you didn't. I stopped dead in my tracks and tensed so fast my shoulders nearly smacked my ears. He did not just speak to me as if I were a five-year-old child.
Furious in a way I’d never been before, I spun on my heel and did something I almost never ever did. I took everything I felt, gathered it into a ball, and heaved it directly at Rocco’s head. I marched right up to him, tilted my head way back to meet his seething glare, and went off.
“Don’t you even start with that.” I stabbed a finger into Rocco’s sternum. Of course, because he’s built like a Mack truck, on the second poke, my index finger bent funny. “Ow! Dang it.” I waved my hand around in a ridiculous and futile effort to stop the pain.
Rocco lunged to catch my hand, which I narrowly avoided by spinning away, and almost landed on my ass for the effort.
“Christ, Ky. Lemme take a look. You might have broken it.”
Not feeling charitable in any way, when Rocco tried to grab my hand again, I yelped and cradled it to my chest. He did not get to treat me like crap then act all concerned and heroic. He did not get to be the good guy. Not tonight.
“No. Go away.”
Rocco rolled his eyes and scoffed. He held out his hand, palm up, with the clear expectation I would comply. “Stop being so damn stubborn and let me look.”
My jaw dropped so fast I might have felt my chin smack the floor. “Me? Stubborn?” I let out a very unfeminine snort. “You're the one who bulldozes over me to get your way and makes ridiculous demands by treating me like a kid.”
Using my uninjured hand, I waved at the den. Rocco followed the motion and his bruised cheeks flushed pink. Every light in the condo blazed bright, the huge television blared loudly, and six empty beer bottles sat like good little soldiers next to my brother's favorite chair… which just so happened to be next the windows that overlooked the front of the building.
“Case in point, Rocco. It's three in the morning and you're the one who decided to wait up for me like I'm a virgin on prom night. I don't need or want a lecture from you, especially one I didn’t ask for.”
Rocco winced and covered his ears. “Shit, Ky. I don't want to hear about your sex life.”
Considering an hour earlier, I almost broke my two-year dry spell, Rocco struck a nerve. I wanted to cry, and that made me angrier. Emotions all jumbled up, every last drop of my mental acuity drained, the dam that held me back finally collapsed. Every feeling I had, came exploding out of me like Mount Vesuvius.
After the cluster-you-know-what of a night—first watching Rocco get into a fight, then the guilt of thinking the guy who punched him was smoking hot, followed by me skipping out on Rocco after the game. Add in my failed attempt at a one night stand, having to call Nat from his place, her listening to me cry and snuffle as she calmed me enough to ask Grant to take me home, and top it off with Rocco giving me a ton of crap—the pressure became too much. And because I always hold back, too worried about hurting Rocco, my emotions decided to take matters into their own hands, and spewed forth in the form of a scathing rant.
“If there are things you don't want to hear, there's an easy solution, Rocco. Butt out of my personal life! God! It's not like I asked you to wait up and lecture me. I'm an adult, A-D-U-L-T.”
My words struck their mark. Rocco slumped, but the hardened glint in his eyes didn’t budge. Not one bit. When I finished my tirade, my chest heaving from exertion, Rocco replied, eerily calm in response to my rare outburst.
“You know I only worry because I care. If anything were to happen to you —“ Rocco closed his eyes and shuddered. When he met my gaze once more, I was, as usual, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of worry and fear radiating from his eyes.
I was so tired of arguing. An enormous wave of exhaustion crashed over my head, so immense and all consuming, I could have slept for days. I rubbed my eyes. It was late and I needed to get to bed or else I would collapse. I let out a long sigh and shook my head. Nothing ever changed.
Nothing ever would change.
Not if I kept giving in to the guilt. Which in turn, caused my spontaneous recklessness. Which then led to more guilt. And so the cycle continued. I just didn't know how to stop it. It was like being on a roller coaster as it crested the peak of the highest hill. Once you got to that point, there was nothing you could do to stop from going over the edge. But I had to try, didn't I? Otherwise we continue to have this conversation over and over until one of us eventually said something we couldn't take back.
My righteous fury drained. All I wanted was to go to my room and overthink every last second of my crappy night. Rocco would never back down, so it was up to me. I made sure to hang on to the edge the roller coaster tracks by my fingertips to keep from going over.
“I know you care, Rocco, but you have to understand. I’m twenty-one, not sixteen. I go on dates (ha-ha, not really). I have friends I do things with. Sometimes, I'm studying at the library. My point is, it doesn't matter what I'm doing. You need to get over yourself and stop demanding to know every little thing I'm up to or who I’m with.”
I didn’t mention how I purposely did things to upset him and that his smothering only made the urge to do those things worse.
Rocco’s brows smushed even closer, and that stupid crease grew stupidly deeper, while I watched his stupid chiseled jaw grind back and forth.
“I’m not going to stop caring, Ky. Ever. And I’ll wait up every single night if I goddamn want to.”
If that was how he wanted it…