Veils of Rivalry Chapter 31

Cole's POV

I stare at her, knowing she’s just caught me out on a lie. But then I remember I’m fucking twenty and don’t need to be schooled like a goddamn teenager.

“We weren’t getting along. You can’t force me to stay in a relationship with her, Mom.”

Blaise’s dad tuts and shakes his head. “Typical. Are you even surprised, Rachel?”

I turn away from them and storm out the room, not taking a breath until I reach the top of the steps. My hands fist, and I wish I could punch Blaise’s dad hard enough he becomes unrecognizable.

Blaise is following me. I can feel and hear his footsteps behind me. “Cole.”

“Fuck off.”

He grabs my shoulder, but I shrug him off and try to get to my room. My head is all over the place, a devil on my shoulder whispering shit that isn’t true, and I think I might be sick.

I’m dizzy, and my chest feels tight.

“It might not have been your dad. You don’t need to be scared.”

I spin around, and he crashes into me, only staying on his feet when I snatch his throat and shove him into the wall beside my door. “What part of fuck off do you not understand? What are you doing?”

“He’s not going to get you.”

Grinding my teeth, my eyes burn as much as the pain in my chest. “You don’t know that. And even if he does, it has nothing to do with you.” I let go of him and stand back. “Stay in your lane, Blaise. You don’t fucking belong in mine. Stop touching me. Stop coming near me. If you do it again, I’ll choke you.”

I slam the bedroom door behind me, leaving him in the hallway, my vision blurring even more. My eyes zero in on my bed, and the inner child in me screams to hide.

Sliding under the bed, I try to control my breathing as I close my eyes. He’s not here; my dad isn’t coming for me.

He won’t.

I feel a tingling sensation at my toes and fingertips, and I screw my eyes shut tighter and try to stop hyperventilating at the thought of him barging into my room and dragging me from under my bed.

He’ll hurt me.

He’ll hurt Mom.

I need to stay quiet.

If I stay silent, and not move, or cry, he won’t know I’m here. My leg aches, and I hold my side. Memories are ruining me.

My phone buzzes, pulling me from my panic momentarily when I realize it’s my burner phone. I pull it out and see the screen.

Blaise: I’m home now.

My eyes glaze over with rage. How fucking dare he fuck around with me on the trip, then hop back into this shit?

He can’t fuck around with me, with my head, then expect to go home and move on to this masked man who degrades him, makes him run and submit.

My chest tightens, but in a different way. My anger is there, but it’s forming into spiteful jealousy, and I stop hyperventilating like I’m about to pass out.

I crush my teeth together as I type back a location and time, knowing fine fucking well I won’t be meeting him there.

***

POV Blaise

W

hy do I even bother when all he does is turn me away? More importantly, why do I even care? Why do I want to storm back to his room and hurt him like he hurts me? So many fucking questions without answers.

I drive my fist into the wall, but the pain barely touches the rising anger inside me. Is that what this is? Anger? I don’t fucking know.

“Are you okay, Blaise?” Rachel asks as I thunder down the stairs.

I storm past, biting back the clogging sensation rising inside me. My chest feels too small to contain whatever shit this is. Is it supposed to hurt like this? To be this hard to breathe? I emerge into the afternoon air and pause outside the front door, trying to inhale a ragged breath, but it catches in my throat. The backs of my eyes burn. Before I know what the hell is going on, my chin wobbles, so I crouch down and fist my short hair until my scalp prickles. The urge is there to scream, but I squeeze my eyes shut instead. Is life always like this? Polar opposites? First, I felt nothing, and now this…tumultuous roar in my head? The pain becomes almost unbearable, and I punch my skull.

What do I want?

Did I want Cole to let me in? To trust me and stop looking at me like he hates me? Or do I want to stop feeling and return to the emotionless, bored shell I was before he came into the picture?

What’s wrong with me? Why the fuck do I let him affect me like this? No one should have this control over me, let alone my own stepbrother.

I punch my head again before shooting to my feet and walking down the street without direction. Well, that’s not true. I wipe tears from my eyes and dig my phone out of my pocket. Cole texted me an address and a time.

Gritting my teeth, I crush the phone in my hand and glance at the setting sun in the distance. A myriad of orange, pink, and purple streaks paint the sky. I shouldn’t let him chase me again. Why the hell should I play his games? My thoughts drift, and I bury my hands in my pockets.

With my eyes on my scuffed Chucks, I walk with my head down, kicking up rocks. I wonder what he’s doing now. Is he hiding under his bed again? I overheard his mom talking to my dad about it, who grumbled under his breath. It was the first time I wanted to bang my dad’s head against the wall. But I didn’t give it much thought back then. Dad was Dad, and I was used to his eye rolls and dismissive sighs. I never thought it was something…more.

After sliding my phone back out, I bring up Mia’s number.

Music drifts through the open window of a red sedan as my steps slow. I press the phone to my head, watching it drive past.

Mia answers on the third ring. “Blaise, where did you go? You ran out of the house and…” Her voice drifts into the distance as I watch a bird dip sideways in the mild breeze. “Blaise?”

I hang up, then lower my phone by my side.

I feel nothing for Mia. In fact, I could break up with her now and not care. What do I make of that? On the one hand, it’s safe. She can’t hurt me by slamming doors in my face. No, this storm inside me belongs solely to my infuriating stepbrother, as if he has laid a damn claim on my emotions.

I’ve lost my fucking compass.

Blowing out a tired sigh, I cut my gaze from the sky. Fuck this. I’ll give him one more fucking chance. Maybe it’s better to hurt than feel nothing at all? If he wants to cut me wide open with his games of hide and seek, who am I to stop him? It’s not like I have a choice.

I kick a rock before running a hand down my face. What am I doing?

My conflicting thoughts war the whole way there. Once I reach the abandoned train bridge, as per his instructions, I lean my elbows on the rusty railing and gaze out over the water. Undercurrents ripple the surface as the sun dips behind the fir trees in the distance.

The longer I wait, the more the burn in my chest intensifies. I clench my jaw and fix my gaze on the horizon.

He will show.

He has to show.

But he doesn’t.

Soon, darkness settles over the river, and the silvery moon rises in the sky, reflecting off the glassy surface. In the distance, a chorus of bird caws echoes off the water. I dip my chin to my chest and breathe through the throb behind my ribcage.

He shut the door on me again.

I’m done.

So fucking done.

He wants me to back off? Fine. He can have his damn wish. I don’t even know why the hell I tried to build a bridge in the first place. He confounds me.

“Blaise?” a voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I look up to see Jackson approach me on the bridge. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

His dark jeans hang low on his hips, and a sliver of skin shows when he scratches the back of his neck.

“I could ask you the same,” I reply, straightening up and leaning an elbow against the railing.

He chuckles and shrugs as he steps closer. I’ll admit that he’s a good-looking guy, and his red backward cap adds to his allure. The girls flock to him like flies to a pile of shit. But he’s not Cole, and that thought pisses me the fuck off.

“I got kicked off the football team,” he says, leaning beside me against the railing. “My dad didn’t take the news well.” He peers at me sideways, and I make no secret of studying his face. Why the fuck am I so hung up on Cole? I feel nothing for Mia and can’t even muster a spark of interest in Jackson.

“It’s fine,” he says, looking out across the water.

“You can punch me if you want,” I reply, and he looks back at me. “It might make you feel better.”

We stare at each other for a beat, and then he chuckles.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

“I’m here for the birdsong,” I joke as he turns back to face the water. He’s smiling now, and I don’t know what to make of the look he tosses my way.

“Cole hates you, huh?”

My shackles rise at his question, but I keep my face neutral as I shrug and cross my arms. “It’s not a secret.”

“Secrets,” he muses, lifting a brow before he straightens up and inches closer. I can’t read him. Alarm bells blare, and I watch him pull his phone from his pocket. The shrill dial tone soon cuts through the birdsong in the distance, and my eyes widen when Cole’s voice drifts through the speaker.