BROKEN AND SCREWED(Broken_Part One)(78)

“Before Ethan died,” she finished as she started scrubbing the other side of my face.
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, Alex. You do too know.”
“No, I don’t. The night we did it, the first night was hard. Ethan had just died and it was his funeral that night.”
“I always wondered where you went that night, but I stopped wondering.” Angie sounded far away. Her voice was so soft. “That was the beginning when you never seemed with us, you know.”
“I know.” And I did, because a part of me had died with Ethan. I had ceased feeling grounded, except with Jesse. He grounded me, he anchored me. “So that was the first night, and honestly, it wasn’t something I planned. He was hurting. I was hurting. We stayed the night together and everything went away, just for the night. The next morning was a whole other thing to deal with, though.”
“So you lost your virginity to him?”
“I did.” And I didn’t regret it. I loved Jesse. He might not love me, but I loved him and I needed to be with him. Even though it wasn’t permanent and had lasted longer than I had thought it would, I would never regret giving myself to him.
“Are you happy that you did that? I mean, he’s not boyfriend material, Alex, but you’re still with him. The two of you have some weird relationship together. It’s not healthy.”
“It’s not.” But I wouldn’t want it any other way.
“What about someone like Eric?”
I held my breath. My heart picked up its pace as I waited for her to continue.
She lifted my face and started to wipe underneath my jaw. She cleaned it all up. “You know he’d date you. He’s a good guy. He’d treat you right, be patient with you. He would go the extra mile for you and I think you know that. Jesse wouldn’t do that for you.”
But he already had, in some ways.
I sighed and looked down. What was I doing? Why was I such a mess inside?
She moved away and washed her hands under the faucet, but leaned against the sink when she was done. I looked up now. The somberness in her eyes nearly brought me to tears. Oh god. What was I doing to make a friend like Angie worry so much for me?
I whispered, “What do you want me to do?”
“Stop it.”
A tear slipped out. Then I nodded.
She added, firmer, “Stop it right now.”
“One more night,” I gasped out. I needed one more night.
“No.” She stood in front of me and grasped my arms. The severity in her took my breath away. It meant so much to her. “No more ‘one more nights’. You’ll keep wanting that. You’ll keep saying that. Stop it right now. We’ll fly home tonight. We’ll leave tonight. Just stop it with him. I just got you back. The old you is coming back. I can see it and I do not want him to take it away. He can’t take you away again. I won’t let him.”
I closed my eyes as I heard her words. Pain whirled around in me. I felt ripped open from the inside out. My heart was wrenched out and squeezed so it would stop beating. But she was right and I knew it. I had already started down that path. I told myself to walk away, but I wanted one more night. I needed it so much, but she was right.
It had to end.
I nodded. The relief that came from her almost brought me to my knees. Angie swept me into a tight hug and kissed my forehead. She continued to hold me against her and brushed my hair away from my forehead. It was a motherly gesture, a realization that had new tears come to me, but I held them back.
When we walked outside, Jesse and Justin were waiting in the darkened hallway. A fierce emotion was in his depths, but he wouldn’t let me see it. As I stepped closer, he turned away. I sighed and my hand fell back to my side.