Kiss and Don't Tell(109)

I push away from her and say, “Just trying to understand why it took you so long, at the grocery store.”

She wrings her hands together, a telltale sign of her nerves kicking in. “Are you hungry? Is that what this is about? Because I can quickly—”

“I’m not fucking hungry, Winnie,” I snap at her, causing her to take a step back in surprise. “I want to know why it took you so long at the grocery store.”

“Wh-what’s happening?” She scans the room. “I don’t understand.”

I tip back my beer, finish it off, and then set the empty bottle on the dining room table. “I’ll tell you what’s happening.” I close the space between us and point to the flowers. “I went to the store to get you some goddamn flowers because . . . well, fuck, because I’m infatuated with you, and, to my shock, I catch you embracing another man.”

Her eyes widen with guilt as her lip trembles.

“Pacey . . .”

“But not just any man. I catch you with Josh. Fucking Josh, Winnie.” I get in her face. “Is that who you’ve been texting? Is that who put you in a weird mood yesterday? Were you planning on meeting up with him this entire time?”

“No,” she says quickly. “I mean, yes, he was—he was the one I was texting—”

“Un-fucking-believable,” I shout before walking away from her, hands in my hair. My back tenses, the muscles in my shoulders firing off. “You were texting Josh, the fuckhead who belittled you.” I face her. “He made you doubt your beauty, your sex appeal, your compassionate heart. And you just go and let him back into your life?”

“I wasn’t.” She shakes her head.

“And what about me?” I ask. “Am I nothing to you?”

“No, you are, Pacey. You’re—”

I pull at my hair, unable to calm myself down. “Do you know what it felt like to turn the corner and see you there, with him? But you weren’t just with him. He was holding you. He was kissing you.”

“On the head, Pacey.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I shoot back. “He was still kissing you. Imagine how that made me fucking feel, seeing you with Josh.”

“I can’t—” She pauses. Her head tilts to the side and then she takes a step back. “Wait . . . how did you know that was Josh? I’ve never showed you a picture of him.”

Fuck.

When I don’t say anything, she takes a step forward and asks, “Pacey, how did you know that was Josh?”

My teeth roll over my bottom lip and I look away.

“Pacey . . .” Her voice grows tight. “How do you know him?”

Throwing my arms out to the side, I shout, “He’s my half-brother, okay?”

“What?” she asks, her eyes wide with shock. “Your half-brother? Did you know—” I can see the wheels turning in her head as she puts the pieces together. “Have you known this whole time? Every time I spoke of him, every time I mentioned the damage he’d done, you knew he was your brother. Didn’t you?”

What’s the point of lying? There isn’t any, so I answer, “Yeah, I fucking knew you belonged to him.”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” she says, her tone angry.

“Bullshit,” I shout, taking a step forward. “You belong to me. Not him.”

Her eyes grow angry. “Is this some sick competition between you and your brother? Am I just some pawn in your game?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I say, before I can stop myself. Fuck, I didn’t mean that. From her shocked and furious reaction, I know she’s not happy with that response, either.

“I see.” She pushes past me and heads to my bedroom.

Growling in frustration, I walk after her. She goes straight to her suitcase, tosses it on the bed, and then starts putting her things in it.

Because I’m a masochist and can’t seem to stop myself, I ask, “Packing up to go see him?”

She stops and looks over her shoulder. “You’re something else, Pacey.” She shakes her head in disappointment. “Let me ask you this—how did you know I was talking about your half-brother?”

“I recognized you,” I admit. “From my dad’s visit. You were in the pictures he showed me. I thought you were fucking gorgeous and I had no idea how my dickhead of a half-brother landed a girl like you. He’s not the kind of man who deserves someone like you.”

“So, this was a competition for you. You have some sort of beef with your brother—”

“Don’t disparage my feelings about my relationship with my half-brother. You have no idea the kind of pain he put my father through. Josh fucked up so many summers because he was a bitter asshole who blamed our dad, when he should’ve been blaming his mom. He made my dad’s life hell, even though my dad tried to have a relationship with him.”

She slowly nods. “So this”—she motions between us—“this is some attempt to get back at him, then. Like a ‘ha ha, I got your girl.’”

“Does it matter?” I ask. “Does it really matter, Winnie? Because you’re missing the point.”

“And what’s the point? I thought it was you deceiving me this entire time.”