Branded (Fall of Angels #1)(36)

I shake my head, laughing. “We’re kids, Brandon.”

“Young adults. And very mature for our age, too,” he says with a killer smile. “So what do you say, Dixie? Wanna come? My car’s parked out front. We could go anywhere you want. Any place, just say the word.”

Traveling the world has been a dream of mine, so I’m tempted to say yes. So fucking tempted, but …

“Your family will be fine without you,” he adds as if that will make it easier to say yes.

It doesn’t even though he’s right. They would be fine without me. But I don’t want to leave them behind. I love them. Despite the fact we have our differences and don’t always see eye to eye, they’re still my family. I can’t abandon them.

I lick my lips, trying to come to terms with what I have to do.

“I can’t.” I shake my head. “I just can’t. Period.”

“But …” His face slowly turns darker and darker.

He and I both know what’s coming. It’s been hanging in the air for a long time.

Even though we like each other a lot, we aren’t right for each other.

We’re two people from two different worlds. Worlds that just don’t match, despite us trying so hard to fit them together. No amount of need or wantonness can make up for that.

We simply weren’t meant for each other.

“I can’t go with you, Brandon,” I say, swallowing away the lump in my throat. “But I won’t stop you either.”

I don’t wanna be the one to hold him back. Even though what he did was bad, criminal even, I don’t have it in my heart to rat him out. That’s not who I am or who I wanna be. His sin is his to carry. Still, the tears well up in my eyes.

“Wherever you’re going, I hope you’re happy there.”

“Don’t say that,” he says, biting his lip and shaking his head.

“You know I want the best for you,” I say as an icy draft flutters through the shed, making goose bumps scatter on my skin. Or maybe it’s the chilliness of this conversation.

“But you aren’t happy here,” he says, still trying to grasp at straws.

It’s too late. He’s already made his decision. And I just made mine.

“You know I’m right,” he says, frowning.

“I don’t care,” I say, willing the tears away. “I can’t just abandon them.”

“Why not?”

Just thinking about it makes me shudder. My dad … He’d literally kill me if he found me trying to run off. I’m pretty sure of it.

“You don’t know my dad like I do.”

“I’m not scared of him,” he says, straightening his back and trying to look tough.

But there’s no bonfire here, and no amount of fire would ever fend off my dad. Brandon’s no match for him.

“No, but I am …” I say, gazing down at my feet.

“Why?” He grabs my face again, tilting it up. “Has he hurt you?” He balls his fist, teeth clenched together, the look on his face reminding me of Rocky before he pounded the shit out of his opponent. “Tell me the truth.”

I suck on my bottom lip and shake my head.

I can’t ever let them fight. Ever. Even if I have to lie.

My dad would probably kill Brandon if he had the chance.

“No,” I say.

He puts his hands around my waist again. “Come with me. I’ll protect you.”

I push him away again. “Stop. Don’t you get it? I can’t. My dad would kill me if he found me here with—”

I can’t finish my sentence.

Not without breaking his heart in the process.

But when our eyes meet, I know it’s already too late.

I see the poison seeping into his eyes.

I injected it straight into his veins.

Fuck.

“With what?” he hisses.

Is he really going to make me say it out loud? Is that how he wants this to end? Would this make it easier for him to leave? To hate me?

“Say it. Say the word, goddammit!” he yells, grabbing my arms.

Maybe it’s for the best.

“Redskin.”

His nostrils flare as he practically sucks up the word while licking on his bottom lip. The pain oozes from his dark eyes until nothing but suffering is left … all those years and all those people judging him for who he is and how he was born have left their mark.

And now I stomped on the tiny bit of hope he had left.

Crushed it with my very words.

Just like his soul.

“Don’t make me hate you, Dixie.”

I don’t reply. There’s nothing to say. Taking it back would mean lying, and he deserves better than that.

We both deserve better. We deserve to live.

My dad would kill us both if he found us here, making out in his shed … forging plans to escape this life.

And I don’t want Brandon to die. I like him too much to allow that to happen. I’d never forgive myself.

If he hates me for it, then so be it.

“You’ll regret this,” he barks, turning away from me.

I already do. But there’s no point in trying to undo what I’ve done. There’s no way to turn back time, or take it back, or suck back the words and pretend they don’t exist.