Home > On Dublin Street (On Dublin Street #1)(79)

On Dublin Street (On Dublin Street #1)(79)
Author: Samantha Young

I felt that familiar choking in the bottom of my throat. “I didn’t ask you to need me,” I whispered back.

I saw it. The hurt flickered across his face before he quickly banked it. Abruptly, he let go of me. “Fine. I don’t have time for your multitude of emotional issues. I have a wee sister who may or may not have brain cancer, and she needs me, even if you don’t. But I’ll tell you something, Jocelyn,” he stepped forward, pointing a finger in my face, his own hardened with anger, “If you don’t see her through this, you’ll hate yourself for the rest of your life. You can pretend that you don’t give a shit about me, but you can’t pretend Ellie means f**k all to you. I’ve seen you. Do you hear me?” He hissed, his hot breath blowing across my face, his words cutting through my soul. “You love her. You can’t sweep that under the rug because it’s easier to pretend she means nothing to you than it is to bear the thought of losing her. She deserves better than that.”

I closed my eyes in pain, hating that he could see so deep inside of me. And he was right. Ellie deserved better than my cowardice. I couldn’t hide from what I felt for her because everyone had seen it and understood it. She had seen it and understood it. How could I desert her when I was the one who’d let our friendship happen? For her, I would have to be brave, even if it took everything I had left. “I’ll be there for her,” I found myself promising. I opened my eyes, hoping he could see my sincerity. “You’re right. I’ll be there for her.”

Braden squeezed his eyes closed, exhaling heavily. When he opened them, there was a tenderness in them again that I told myself I hadn’t missed for the last five minutes. “Jesus. We lost you there for a few hours. What are we going to do with you, Jocelyn butler?” He reached an arm out as if to wrap me close to him, and I dodged it, stepping back.

“You should go home and get some rest. I’ll see to Ellie tonight.”

Braden tensed, his eyes searching again, his jaw clenched. “Jocelyn?”

“Just go home, Braden.” I turned to leave but he grabbed my hand.

“Jocelyn, look at me.”

I tried to tug my hand loose but he wouldn’t let go, and it took everything within me to harden my features as I glanced back to face him. “Let go, Braden.”

“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding like he’d swallowed sandpaper.

“We’ll talk about this later. Now is not the time. This is about Ellie.”

Looking dangerous now, dangerous and determined, Braden glowered at me. “Don’t even think about breaking up with me.”

“Can we talk about this later?”

Instead of answering, Braden yanked me hard against him and crushed his mouth over mine. I could taste the Scotch and desperation on his tongue as his hand held my head against his, the kiss deep, wet and bruising. I couldn’t breathe. I pushed against his chest, making a noise of distress and he let me go. Well his mouth did. His arms still bound me tight.

“Let me go,” I whimpered, my lips swollen and sore.

“No,” he breathed harshly. “I’m not letting you do this to us. I don’t believe for a second I don’t mean anything to you.”

You don’t have a choice. “I can’t do this with you.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t.”

“Then I don’t accept that.”

I struggled in his arms, glaring up at him. “If I break up with you, you have to accept it!”

Fire-breathing Braden appeared almost instantly. “No, I f**king don’t!”

“Hey, you alright there?” a drunk guy drew our attention and we jerked our heads around. He was squinting at me and Braden locked together and it suddenly occurred to me that we were arguing on George Street on a Friday night where there were still people around to hear us.

“We’re fine,” Braden told him calmly, still not letting me go.

The drunk guy looked at me. “You sure about that?”

Not wanting this to descend into a fight—the last thing Braden needed right now—I nodded. “We’re cool.”

The drunk eyed us again and then deciding we could work it out ourselves, he turned around and started hailing for a cab.

I glared back at Braden. “Let me go.”

“No.”

“You can’t caveman you’re way out of this.” I couldn’t meet his gaze as the pain and the lies bubbled up out of me. “I care about you, Braden, I do. You’re my friend. But this has gone on too long.”

“You’re afraid. I get it,” he bent to murmur comfortingly in my ear. “I know why you ran today, and I know why you’re running now. But shit happens, babe, there’s no protecting against it. You also can’t let it take over your life and rule your relationships with people. We need to enjoy the time we have, however long it’s going to be. Stop running.”

He should you have been a therapist.

I tried to let me body relax, and I ignored the horrendous churning in my stomach. “That’s why I’m ending it. Life is short. We should be with the people we love.”

Braden froze against me and I waited breathless, hoping for the strength to continue the lie. Slowly, he pulled away from me, his eyes hard as he gazed into mine. “You’re lying.”

Yes. I’m lying, babe. But I won’t survive you. And worse, you won’t survive me. “I’m not. I don’t love you, and after everything you’ve been through you deserve someone who loves you.”

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