Reparation (The Kane Trilogy, #3)(19)

She had gone too far. Couldn't pull back now. She had finally hit the bottom of the rabbit hole.

One sip makes you big, and one makes you small. One makes you sane, and one makes you crazy. Time to make a choice.

“No, no, that's not it,” she replied, nervously running her hands through her hair. Cold hearted revenge had been on the menu, not frank honesty. She wasn't quite ready for this meal.

“Then what the fu-ck did I do!?” he threw his hands up. She took a deep breath. Tried to imagine Sanders' voice, telling her what to do. Telling her to just say everything.

“You. Ellie. I am not okay with this,” Tate breathed quickly.

“You're still upset about that!?” Ang all but shouted.

“Yes.”

“But ..., when we were on the plane! You cried! You said it was okay!” he reminded her, a bewildered look in his eye. She nodded.

“I know. I lied.”

“Why!?”

“Because, I wanted to hurt you back,” she mumbled, looking down at the table. He leaned forward.

“I'm sorry. Wait. Back up. Please explain exactly, what the fu-ck, you're talking about,” he told her. She took another deep breath.

Just say it. Get rid of the poison. Word-vomit it up.

“I was so mad at you. I felt ..., lied to, and betrayed. Why her!? I mean, I know, I can't tell you who to sleep with and who not to, and the heart wants what it wants, all that bullshit, and I can't stop you, but why her!? You knew how I felt about her, but you did it anyway. I couldn't ..., I couldn't believe it. Not from you. I always thought you were better than me, better than him,” she laid it all out.

“Do not compare me to him,” Ang's voice was hard.

“I'm not. But in that moment, you didn't seem a whole lot better,” she whispered.

“Jesus, Tate, we've been back for a month, and you've been keeping this bottled up? The whole time? The three of us have been to dinner, for god's sake,” he pointed out. She cringed.

Yeah, and I wore a low-cut top and you stared at my tits and I thought her head was going to explode. Stupid boy.

“Sorry. Sanders has been bugging me to talk to you. I just ... I had it my head ... I wanted ...,” she let her voice trail off. It should have been enough, finally admitting out loud that she was upset. But her guilt was suddenly making itself known, knocking at the door to her conscience.

Helloooooo, you're a vile, evil bitch, and you owe it to him to tell him! Remember that swimming pool, hmmm!?

“Sanders knows about this, but I don't!? You talk to that fu-cking weirdo about our shit?” Ang snapped. She cut her eyes to him.

“Do not talk about him like that. Sanders is the best goddamn person I've ever met, in my entire life, and neither of us are even worthy of knowing him. Call him another fu-cking name, and I'll stab you with this fork,” she threatened him, holding up said fork.

“Christ, you have gone crazy.”

“Keep talking shit, and I'll show you crazy.”

Ang burst out laughing, and she eventually followed suit. Stab him with a fork!? Up until a month ago, she had never so much as hit anybody. Now she was brandishing flatware as weaponry.

I have gone crazy.

“I shouldn't have said that, Sanders is awesome. I'm just mad. You used to tell me all your secrets,” Ang sighed. She nodded.

“I know. I always tell you everything, hence why you should've known that fu-cking my sister would probably piss me off. You're my best friend with whom I've had sex with on multiple occasions. I've hated her for most of my life. What kind of sad, daytime soap opera were you trying to recreate?” she asked.

“A lame one. I don't know what to say, Tate. I didn't know it was still bothering you, that it even bothered you this much,” he told her. She took a deep breath. Being a bad girl hadn't worked; maybe she should shoot for sainthood and be completely honest.

“I know. I hid it really well, because I wanted ..., I wanted ...,” she kept trying to start.

“If it's something even you're nervous to say, then I am really scared,” he commented.

“I wanted to break you up. I wanted you to have sex with me, so I could rub it in her face. I was mad at Jameson, too, so I figured doing it in his bed would be like killing two birds with one stone. Tonight, I was going to convince you that I was in love with you, so you'd leave Ellie for me and Jameson would let me go. And then I was going to dump you. I wanted to make all of you regret fu-cking with me,” she explained quickly.

There. That wasn't so bad. And you only kinda-sorta sounded like the worst person ever.

“That is so fu-cked up,” Ang breathed. She nodded.

“I know.”

“I think you need help.”

“Me, too.”

“I can't believe it. That is so fu-cked up. After everything we've been through, last fall, the last five years, everything, and you would do that to me!?” he snapped.

“I had a very similar thought, when I walked in on you fu-cking her,” she snapped back.

“I didn't do that on purpose!” he practically shouted. “I have never done anything to intentionally hurt you!”

“Oh really? Remember that time you accidentily anger-banged Rusty? Cause I haven't forgotten that – she still texts me about you, you know. Pretty 'intentional',” Tate hissed at him. He turned a little red.