The Arrangement Anthology 1(125)

Marty gives me a look. “I think he’s poison. I think he burnt up a long time ago. I think everything he touches turns to ash. I don’t want him to touch you anymore. I can’t stand to see you like this. You were doing well before he came along.” Marty takes a sip of his coffee.

“Is that why you chased him off at the hospital?”

One of Marty’s brows lifts and he gives me a lopsided grin. “You knew about that?”

I nod. “Yeah, I did. I didn’t understand why you did it.” I’m looking at the sheets that I’m twisting in my grip when I feel the bed next to me dip. The springs make a metallic sound and I hear Marty inhale. He runs his fingers through his hair.

“I chased him off because I can’t let you do it.” Marty is sitting next to me. I turn toward him and keep my eyes on his chest, on the smooth toned skin. I’m afraid to look up. This feels weird. It feels like he’s being possessive, but not in a brotherly way. The way he’s looking at me is so adoring, so perfect. He’s gay. There’s no way in hell he feels anything toward me, not like that. I think I’ve gone crazy until I feel his hand on my knee. His touch makes me so nervous. I don’t know where the feelings are coming from.

I glance up at him. “Do what?” Our eyes lock and something inside of my chest tightens. My stomach flips and nervous energy shoots through my veins. This is impossible. The only pull I should feel toward Marty is friendship. I swallow the lump in my throat.

“I can’t let you lose sight of who you really are—that red dress and those clothes—that’s not you. You’re not a call girl. You’re Avery Stanz. You’re a brilliant, caring, young, beautiful woman who has so much potential, so much life left in her. She’s capable of wonderful things. She’s the best person I know. You can’t give up on her, because I haven’t. She’ll pull through. She’s still in here,” he gently presses a finger to my heart. He says everything I ever needed to hear, but no one ever said.

I bite my lower lip to keep it from trembling. The emotions that I buried in the back of my mind start to leak out. “Marty…”

His hand returns to his lap. “Don’t tell me she’s gone, because she’s not. Don’t tell me you can’t go backwards, that you can’t be who you were. You haven’t changed, Avery. You’re still you.”

I swallow hard and feel my chest cave in. Why does he do this to me? Every time I pick myself up and rebuild the walls, Marty tears them down. I need them to survive. I can’t stand on my own anymore. No matter what he says, I know I’m too weak.

“Sentimentality won’t change anything, Marty. After everything I’ve done, after everything I did to get here—” I suck in air and shake my head. When I glance up into his eyes, I see my reflection. It looks the same. It looks like the Avery from before my life spun out of control, but she’s not. That girl is gone.

Marty takes my hands and squeezes them hard. “Then don’t waste it. You made huge sacrifices to get where you are, but that’s all they were. Those choices don’t own you. You own them.

“Come on, who said, regret is for pussies? Who said that you only get one life, live it the best you can and don’t look back? You did. And out of everyone I ever met, you’re the only one who has the right to say it. You lived through hell, and you pulled yourself out. Don’t attach yourself to someone who’s going to drag you back there.”

I’m looking at my hands while he speaks. This conversation feels too personal, but I need to hear it. There’s no one to tell me to suck it up, to get up and keep going. The girl who felt that way about regret gives me a mental high-five. She’s still in there, fighting to break free.

I lift my gaze and look at Marty. “Why do you put up with me?” I smile sadly at him and shake my head.

“Because…” Marty smiles at me, like the answer is so plainly obvious. “I love you.”





CHAPTER 4





He’s said those words before, but they never sunk in the way they do now. I smile at him—like I don’t understand, like I know he’s gay and doesn’t mean it that way. Marty watches my face, looking for a reaction, but I don’t want to react. I don’t want anything to change. Maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing. My emotions are a jumble. I don’t trust my senses. It’s just not possible, so I disregard the weird tension between us. Mentally, I laugh for being so stupid. He doesn’t love me, love me.

I smile at him and say it back. “I love you, too.”