CHAPTER 68: THE ANGER I COULDN’T EXPLAIN

Josie

I stared at the door even after it closed behind him, my entire body trembling from the pressure of everything he’d said—and everything he hadn’t.

How dare Kiel walk away like that? How could he come in here and speak to me like my feelings were irrelevant? Like I was overreacting or being irrational? My nails dug into my palms as I sucked in sharp breaths, trying to stop the tears that threatened to fall.

I hated the way he’d made me feel—like I was the problem for not accepting his explanation. Like it was somehow my fault that he had a history with Michelle. A long, ugly, bloody history that I would forever be trapped beneath.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, dragging my fingers through my hair. I paced the room, trying to collect my thoughts, but everything was crashing down like waves in a violent storm.

Michelle had tried to kill me.

She had stood over me with eyes cold as death, dagger in hand, and she would have ended me if Varen hadn’t come when he did. And yet... now Kiel was acting like I was the one who needed to let things go?

He didn’t believe me. Not really. None of them did.

Maybe Varen, but even he hadn’t done much to speak up. Not enough to make this feel any less isolating.

I gritted my teeth and tried to breathe, but my chest only got tighter. My eyes burned. My skin crawled. I felt like I was drowning and the air was thick, too thick to inhale.

"No," I whispered. "No, no, no—"

The room started spinning. My knees buckled. I reached out for the edge of the table for support, but my fingers barely brushed it before I collapsed and took the whole thing down with me.

The last thing I remembered was the sound of something crashing, and then... nothing.

***********

When I opened my eyes, the ceiling looked different. Softer. Pale grey instead of white. My skin tingled like ice was pressed against my back, and I wasn’t on the floor anymore.

I bolted upright in panic. My breath came fast, and I looked around, heart pounding in my ears.

The bed.

I was in bed.

What the hell—

"Josie—Josie, wait. It’s okay. You’re okay."

My head snapped to the side.

Kiel.

He was right beside me, his hand holding mine gently like it was made of porcelain. His eyes were worried, mouth tight with guilt.

"What... what happened?" My voice sounded hoarse and shaky. I hated how weak I sounded.

"You fainted," he said softly. "You were overwhelmed, and you... collapsed. I heard the crash and found you. You’re okay now."

Fainted?

I stared at him, and pieces began falling back into place like broken glass being swept together. The argument. The pressure in my chest. The table crashing.

And the anger.

The unshakable rage that had buried itself beneath my skin.

"You carried me to bed?" I asked stiffly.

He nodded. "Of course I did."

I stared at our hands—his thumb still lightly stroking the back of mine—and I suddenly yanked mine away.

"You didn’t have to," I snapped.

He blinked. "Josie—"

"You didn’t have to pretend like you cared."

He flinched. I saw it—right there in his shoulders, in the sudden stillness of his face.

"I’m not pretending," he said slowly.

I looked away. "You just don’t get it."

"I’m trying to."

"No," I hissed. "You’re trying to make me see it your way. You keep telling me how you feel, but have you even listened to what I’m feeling? Have you ever stopped and thought, ’Maybe Josie has a reason to be angry’?"

Kiel opened his mouth, then closed it. For once, he didn’t argue.

Good. I didn’t want him to argue.

"I don’t even know what to think anymore," I said quietly. "Michelle tried to kill me. But you—you stand there and tell me to believe you when you say it’s over. And what if she tries again, Kiel? What if I die next time? Will you still tell me to be understanding?"

"That’s not fair."

"No," I laughed bitterly. "What’s not fair is you thinking I should just swallow all this pain like it’s nothing. I can’t. I won’t."

He was quiet for a long time. "You have every right to push me away," he finally said, voice rough. "I know I’ve made mistakes. I’ve hurt you. I didn’t come here to argue, Josie. I just wanted you to know that... whatever happened with Michelle is in the past. And I’ll be around when you’re ready to talk."

I didn’t reply. Couldn’t reply. My throat was thick with emotions I couldn’t name. He rose to his feet and left without another word.

I lay back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling again.

Why was I this angry?

Why did I feel like I was coming apart?

I wasn’t like this. I didn’t get consumed by rage so easily. But lately, it had become a part of me, like shadows stitched into my skin. I hated it. Hated feeling like I was on the edge of snapping all the time.

Was it grief? Was it fear? Was it... heartbreak?

I didn’t know.

But the worst part was that no matter how much I wanted to crawl out of it, I felt stuck. Trapped in the darkness of my own chest.

---

Later that evening, I heard the door creak again. I turned my head, expecting Kiel—but it wasn’t him.

It was Varen.

He stood in the doorway like he didn’t quite know if he should enter.

"You can come in," I muttered.

He did. Slowly. And when he finally sat down in the chair beside my bed, he didn’t say anything.

Neither did I.

Silence wrapped around us like a thick blanket.

"I saw Kiel," he finally said, voice low.

I nodded but said nothing.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. "You look better than you did earlier. I was worried."

I still couldn’t look at him.

He sighed. "You’re mad at me too."

"I’m not," I whispered. "I just... I don’t know where you stand."

That got his attention. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... with everything that’s happened. With Michelle. With me. I don’t know if you actually believe me or if you’re just being polite."

He sat back, frowning. "I believe you."

I finally looked at him.

His eyes were honest. Calm. Steady.

But it didn’t make my heart feel lighter.

I swallowed. "Then why haven’t you rejected me?"

"What?"

"I’ve treated you like shit, Varen. Compared to the others... I’ve kept you furthest away."

His jaw tightened. "So?"

"So... it makes no sense that you’d still want this."

He stood up.

I expected him to walk away. But instead, he came closer and knelt beside the bed. His fingers reached out, curling around my wrist. Gently. Warm.

"Josie," he said, voice deep and unwavering, "I’ve told you before. I’ll say it again. I’m a patient man."

Tears pricked my eyes.

"I’ll wait until you come to me," he whispered. "Because unlike my brothers, I don’t mind sharing. And I’ll never force you to choose."

His words didn’t fix everything.

But for a moment... they made breathing easier.