“He’s notactuallymy brother. Jesus.” I shove the pillow case at him hard enough that he has to catch it. “Why did I even tell you? You’re welcome for the accommodations, asshole. And maybe try a shower. You smell like the chicken factory.”
I turn to walk away, fighting tears. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go.
We were supposed to behappy.
“No, wait.” Z’s hand catches my arm. “I’m sorry.”
His voice is softer, and I stop despite myself, closing my eyes. I swallow hard, biting back emotion.
God, I’m so tired.
The whole trip out with Caleb to get Z was like something from a movie—laughing, eating too much food, stealing glances at each other across diner tables. Luxurious. Light.
Just one last day, I told myself. I’d give myself just one last perfect day with him. And then he did the impossible—stood up to Frank and made a way foreverythingto work out—and I thought we could be free to?—
My shoulders sink.
But now it’s all heavy again. Sometimes being with Z always makes me feel so leaden. Soresponsible. Like I have to hold both of us up, or we’ll drown.
It wasn’t always like this. Was it?
When we were kids, Z was the fun one. The one who made me laugh. The one who’d break into the high school gym with me just to scream into the echoing dark.
But somewhere along the way—maybe after Frank started getting worse, maybe after I left—Z stopped being the person who made me feel lighter and started being one more thing I had to carry.
It’s just for a little while, though. He’s carried me before when I was down, and now it’s my turn. We’ve carried each other back and forth at different times. Didn’t we?Didn’t we?God, my head hurts.
“What?” I groan. “God, Z, I’m tired. We’re safe now. Isn’t that enough? We just wanted to besafe. With a roof over our head and food in our bellies.”
Z hasn’t let go of my arm. His fingers are tight around my elbow, grounding me in place.
“No, I want you to talk to me like you used to.” He gives my arm a little shake. “LikemyHarper.”
Something twists in my stomach.
My Harper.
Like I’m a possession. Like I belong to him.
When did he start talking like that? Or has he always talked like that and I just never noticed because I assumed we’d end up together anyway? Because that was always the plan—vague and unspoken but alwaysthere.
Harper and Z against the world.
But that was before Caleb kissed me like I was oxygen. Before someone held me all night like I was something worth protecting. Now I knew what it felt like to bechoseninstead of just being the only option left.
I turn and glare at him. “What does that mean?”
He finally lets go of my arm, but he steps up close instead—right into my personal space in a way that used to feel comfortable and now feels… suffocating.
“It means you’ve become some weird pod person. Is it because of him? Have you been fucking him the whole time you were planning to marry me?”
I step back from him. “What’swrongwith you?”
My voice is louder than I mean it to be. “All this time I’ve been trying to get back to you. Scared shitless about what Frank was doing to you. And now that I do, now that we’re finally bothsafe, you’re acting like this? How about a ‘thank you, Harper? ’ Or an ‘I’m so grateful you rescued me, Harper?’”
All the emotion I’ve been swallowing back is suddenly bursting out in a fury of words I can’t keep in anymore. “And who I fuck is none of your business, Z. Idon’t know what you had in your head, but getting married was alwaysonlysupposed to be about emancipating us. It was justpaperwork!”
I’m breathing hard by the time I finish. I manage to keep tears back, but just barely, and that makes me even more furious: at Z for making me feel this way, at myself for not seeing this coming, at the universe for turning what should have been a happy reunion into this mess.