The Lover’s Game (No Exceptions #2)(32)
Author: J.C. Reed

“There is no off switch to make my heart complete, okay?” I snapped at her. “I thought that seeing his cheating with my own eyes would make me stop loving him. I thought all the pain and anger would erase my feelings for him.” I smirked. “But I was wrong. I still love him, and I can’t help it. You don’t like it. Well, I don’t like it either, but you know what? I can’t do anything about it.” To avoid her pitiful stare, I looked around and began to open drawers. “Where are my things anyway?”

“Uh-uh. I’ll never tell you.” She shook her head in what I assumed was mock disapproval. “According to various websites, I can’t leave you unsupervised with anything you might use to hurt yourself, not until I’m sure you’re over him.”

I snorted. “You Googled that?” I stared at her in disbelief. “Sylvie, I’m fine. No need to panic or turn my hair straightener into contraband.”

“People in forums warn that the person might be lying, pretending to be fine to mask the pain until they are alone.”

The masking part was true, but I certainly didn’t feel suicidal. “Do I look like I’m being irresponsible and ready to kill myself and leave you and my mother behind?” I snapped.

“No, but…” She hesitated.

“Then cut the bullshit.” I held out my hand. “My stuff, Sylvie. Please?”

She shook her head again.

I dropped my hand in mock annoyance. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll find it myself.” With one last glare at her, I headed for her bedroom, but Sylvie blocked my path.

I narrowed my eyes at her and then it dawned on me. She had stashed it all in there.

“I will return everything, under one condition.” She held up a manicured index finger.

“Which is?”

“You let me help you.”

I let out a short, irritated laugh. “I mean it, Sylvie. You don’t have to worry about me harming myself—or him,” I said sourly, deliberately avoiding saying Jett’s name. I knew I sounded bitter, but my emotions threatened to choke me. “I can accept my feelings for him and yet still not want to be with him. For that, I don’t need anyone’s help.”

“I hope so.” The doubt in her tone signaled that she wasn’t convinced. “Because if you don’t get over him, I’ll personally drag your ass to the best LAA group meeting in town.”

I raised my eyebrows in confusion. “LAA?”

“Love Addicts Anonymous,” she clarified. “If an intervention doesn’t help, LAA will solve any sort of obsession problem with any guy.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not obsessed with anyone.” In fact, I hated the sound of the word. Even though I had no doubt that LAA existed, the idea of joining some help organization and talking about Jett, then having to listen to other sob stories, was absurd.

“If you say so.” Sylvie shot me a skeptical look. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.”

A pang of annoyance hit me at the realization that Sylvie didn’t believe me. Just because I was in love didn’t mean I was also obsessed.

Okay, maybe a little.

Still, Sylvie didn’t have to be so brutally honest about it.

Disappointment or not, what was wrong with being a little obsessed with the man you loved, thinking about him day and night—which was the result of a bruised ego and hopes that were destroyed?

“I don’t owe you an explanation, okay?” My voice trembled slightly as I glared at her. “I might still be in love with Jett, but I’m not crazy, and I’m certainly not bordering on obsessive or jumping-off-a-cliff-compulsive. It would take a lot more to make me jump off a bridge or start stalking him.”

“I’m just trying to help,” Sylvie said defensively. “I don’t want you to get hurt and make the same mistake again.”

I wanted to point out I had repeated the mistake before and survived, but I kept my mouth shut.

“No man is worth the pain or waiting for him to change,” she continued. “It’s easy to be in love with the idea of love rather than actually loving a person.”

God, Sylvie could be irritating sometimes.

“You’ve got it wrong. I’m not in love with the idea of love,” I said in a low tone. I sounded so defensive it was almost laughable. “If I were in love with the idea, we’d be married by now, probably horseback-riding on the beach.”

She shrugged, unconvinced. “If you say so.”

I glowered at her as I began to massage my temples to get rid of the pounding behind them. It wasn’t like me to be rude, but Sylvie didn’t see how much I wanted to be alone in the dark abyss of my mind so that I could ignore the annoying agony in my chest.

“Maybe you moved in with him too soon,” she murmured, oblivious to my reluctance to talk.

For a second, I was taken aback, and my head snapped in her direction. “What do you mean?” I asked, shocked. I had feared the same thing, but I had discarded it. To hear my hidden fear coming from her mouth was daunting.

“Think, Brooke. You did everything he wanted. You moved in with him. You worked for him. You always played by his rules.” She counted more reasons, but I stopped listening.

The blood in my ears rushed faster, drowning out everything else.

Was it possible that Jett and I had spent too much time together and our relationship fell into a routine, where he felt he didn’t have to chase me anymore because he already had me?

My heart lurched at the thought that our relationship had become too boring for Jett. It certainly made sense and explained why he had wanted me to dress up as someone he had never met before. I wasn’t a prude when it came to spicing up one’s love life and role-playing could be a part of that, but so early in a relationship?

I buried my face in my hands, letting my shoulders drop. “I’m so f**king stupid. I should have moved out as soon as Nate was arrested. Better yet, I never should have moved in with him in the first place.”

“It’s just a theory, Brooke. I’m not saying it’s true. I’m just pleading with you to open your eyes and see him the way I do, rather than loving him for what he appears to be.”

It made sense. I had given too much too soon. Sylvie was right. The possibility existed that my obsession with Jett was not only stupid, but in vain, too.

“You’ve made your point, loud and clear. Now, can you please shut up and leave me alone?” I walked back into the bathroom and slammed the door shut before sinking to the floor, feeling number from the cold than ever before.