Play The Part (Player Next Door Book 3)

98 | Breaking

Did someone say the last chapter was short?  Well, my dear friends, this one definitely is not...

Chapter 98: Breaking

"Who is it?" Luke asked me, his grip around my arms tight, "Minnie, who is it?"

I felt the tension in his voice, and I saw his jaw lock in anger. His grip around me was like iron, there was no chance even trying to break free.

My head hurt.

I took a deep breath as I looked up at him. My curtains were only half drawn and the midday light streamed in, partly lighting my childhood bedroom, partly shining over his chiseled face.

It was too beautiful of a day, too beautiful of a moment, to ruin.

Luke asked me again, "You said 'she'. Who's working with Matt?"

I breathed in and out.

How do I tell him it was my own blood?

The thin white sheets covered our bodies.

I wanted to hide under them.

I shivered. But I knew I needed to tell.

"My sister," I said.

Ripped the band-aid off. No intro, no caveats. Straight up identity.

The silence between us. The space between us.

His blue eyes searched deep into mine, trying to understand what I meant. How I knew. How it could be true.

I felt the tears well up in my eyes, clouding my eyesight as I refused to let them leak.

"I think it's Flora," I sniffed, repeating myself because I knew he still didn't believe it.

I didn't know if I even believed it.

Luke frowned, "Why?"

"You didn't ask how," I said.

"I'm asking why," he repeated, his grip letting go of me as he rocked his head back against my backboard, "I want to know why your own sister would stalk us?"

"Because she hates me," I shrugged, "She hates the world. She's jealous of you. She's sick maybe?"

"I hate a lot of things," he said, not accepting my explanation.

I stared at the record player my dad left behind. I stared at all the records I kept, collecting dust in my bedroom. All I had left of him.

I guess Flora had teddy. I should've realized that sooner.

"I don't know," I felt so deflated, "But she wrote in the letter that she was jealous. Maybe, during all these years, I was the one person who always had it worse than her. And when life gets pretty shit, it can feel good to have a punching bag."

"What changed?"

"I think you did," I said, "You picked me up and gave me love, friends, attention, a social life. I had none of that before you. I stopped being the punching bag. And maybe she wanted to punch me back into my natural order, because without it, it made her feel at the bottom."

"So, she would ruin your life for that? Mine? Our friends'?"

I could tell he wasn't following.

"Was this meant to be my life though? She's the one who was meant to get the dream. You aren't just anybody. You're her dream guy."

I knew that for a fact. She would always swoon over him, the years we lived across Luke on this street. We all did.

My mom didn't help that either.