A Slave to Broken Hearts (A Slave to Love Sequel)

Chapter 77: Bossy

When we got home with the flowers, I fed my mom the same bogus line I'd given Blade to explain why we came back so soon. She seemed concerned, despite how flimsy the excuse was, and sent me to go lie down in bed till I felt better. I was all too happy to escape.

Just barely getting under the covers, my mom came in with a glass of water and sat down next to me.

"Are you actually sick or did something happen?"

Ah. So she had seen through my lie. Not surprising, even though it was still disappointing. I'd been hoping to to hide up here and wallow for a bit before facing anyone.

"I'm tired." And I was. Tired of feeling miserable and sad, tired of feeling like I'd been his second choice, tired of being well...tired. How much longer was it going to take for me to get over this entirely? All I wanted was to go home, hang out with my friends, see Ace, and put this all behind me.

"Mhm," she said, handing me the glass.

I took it and sipped it.

"I promised to stay out of it, but if you're really not happy with your situation then you either need to work out a way where you're both happy, or else do what you need to do to be okay. No matter the cost."

I blinked at her, not really expecting her advice to go that direction.

"No matter the cost?"

"Just because you love someone doesn't mean you're meant to be together or that you're good for each other. Sometimes you need to shift the relationship to keep them in your life in a way that compliments you both, like a friend instead of a lover. But sometimes, you need to accept that feelings aside, it just doesn't work out no matter what you do. And that's okay too."

"It's complicated."

It was the worst response I could give, a complete cop out in fact, but at least if we weren't literally stuck together by magic and blood, I could take some much needed time apart until I was able to move on entirely and heal, decide for myself whether I wanted to keep trying and see if I was able to live with him in my life. But I couldn't.

Every time I started to feel better, we'd be thrown together again, and it felt like I had to keep starting over. He'd do something sweet or thoughtful or funny and I'd remember why it hadn't been all bad, had been downright good sometimes even. Then reality would set in once more when he swung back to being mad at me and cold.

It was easier when he hated me.

Now he was acting more like himself again, treating me closer to the way he used too, but he still had Eliza. It was like I was falling for him again, the reminders of why I had loved him kept cropping up but I was only seeing what I wanted to see, because the gestures weren't about me, he was only doing them because that's how he was. At least when he hated me, it was easier to forget, easier to pretend I'd moved on, easier to remember why he and I weren't a good idea. 

Was I doing better than when this all happened? Were we doing better? Yes, of course. Only time would fix this, but it felt never ending.

"I know. Relationships, platonic or otherwise, are important. But your feelings matter too and if your needs aren't being met, if it's not good for you, or if having someone around makes you miserable and hurts more than it does anything else, it's better to make that clear. And if nothing changes, then it's better to cut loose a lost cause. I love how loyal you are, how you try so hard to make others happy, but you should be happy too, and surround yourself with people who make you happy too."

I stroked the side of my glass with my thumb, considering her words. It was a difficult decision, one I'd been too afraid to face, to consider, even though it felt like it kept being thrown at me. But now...