“Yeah. Seriously.”
His cheeks flushed pink. “You know what we used to be? We were just discarded trash. That’s how we were treated. There’s no prettying up that shit. Our fucking parents didn’t want us. Or maybe they just died in some tragic car accident or couldn’t keep us. Who knows? I asked. Do you know that? No answer. No one cared enough to find out. And Miss Becky and Mr. Henry? We don’t even have to talk about that mess,” he continued, eyes flashing. “And the group home I was in afterward? They tried—the staff. They really did, but they couldn’t keep their eyes on everything. By the time Mrs. Luna came around, what the hell was the point?”
I paled. Whoa. I was not expecting all of that.
He wasn’t finished. “You got out of all of this. I didn’t. What you have is real. I don’t have that. I’m just pretending.”
I flinched. “I don’t understand. Hector’s family is good people. How can you say that I got out and you didn’t?”
“It’s not the same. I’m just temporary. It’s nothing like what you have with Carl and Rosa.”
Staring at him, I shook my head. “That is utter...bullshit.”
He blinked. “Did you just cuss?”
“Yes. Yes, I did, because that’s bullshit,” I repeated. “Hector’s family cares about you. I don’t know Mrs. Luna that well, but it only took two minutes around her for me to see that she thinks of you as one of her boys. They all care about you. They don’t treat you any differently, or like you’re a burden to them.”
Rider said nothing.
“Or do they?” I demanded. “Do they treat you like a burden?”
The muscle along his jaw throbbed. “They don’t, but—”
“But nothing!” I shouted, and he jerked again. It was probably the loudest I’d ever spoken in my entire life, but dammit, disbelief and frustration beat at me. “They love you, Rider. And they need you now, more than ever. Hector just lost his brother. Mrs. Luna is burying her youngest grandchild—a boy who once told me you were a second brother to him. Yesterday you said you wanted to be there for them, but how can you when you refuse to acknowledge that you’re their family and they’re yours?” I took a breath but it went nowhere. “You know what I said to you yesterday? It’s true. So damn true. You gave up on yourself before they even had a chance!”
“Mallory—”
“And you’re doing it to us! You’re giving up on us before we even get started. And worse yet, you’re using me as an excuse. You’re going to do what you always did—protect me when you shouldn’t have.”
“This isn’t like before,” he stated quietly.
“Yes. Yes it is. You have no sense of self-preservation.” I took a step toward him, but stopped. If I got close enough, I might beat him with a throw pillow. “I always thought you had taken on this role as a knight in shining armor, but I was wrong. You’re just a martyr.”
He looked like I had picked up a throw pillow and beaten him with it.
“What is it with you, Rider? You are so freaking smart and so damn talented, but you—you—” I raised my hand and pointed at him “—you don’t try, and the moment something becomes hard, you run. You give up. That wasn’t the Rider I knew growing up. You were a fighter back then, but when it matters most, like with your damn life, you just give up.”
“I don’t...”
“You do.” Tears clawed their way up the back of my throat as I stared at him. God, this wasn’t fair. This was so damn unfair. “I sat in this kitchen yesterday and I told Rosa that I loved you. I told her not to tell me how I felt and begged her to give you a chance. She promised that she would. And now you’re standing here telling me that what you have isn’t real. You can’t just say that about your foster home. It’s also about me—about us. You’re saying what we had was never real.”
Rider grimaced as he closed his eyes.
I sucked in a shaky breath. “Did you ever fill out those SAT forms I picked up for you?”
He didn’t answer.
“Did you?”
“No,” he whispered.
My heart shattered. “The boy that you keep painting—the one at the warehouse and at the art gallery? That boy is you, isn’t it?”
Rider didn’t say anything.
“It’s not you from the past,” I whispered. His handsome face blurred. “That’s still who you are.”
He closed his eyes.
“And you know what? This whole time I’ve thought I was the one who was messed up. That I was the one who walked away from that damn house damaged and screwed up. I thought it was me.” My voice broke as I backed away. “And it wasn’t. It was you. It’s always been you.”
His gaze rose to mine and the pain in his eyes was a punch to the gut, because he was doing this to himself. And God, that hurt more than anything else. This was on him. Not me.