Free Reluctance (The Exchange #2) by M. B. Feeney Page B

and had done for the last couple of months.
    “Aiden, I have something to tell you.” Is it weird that I can still quote her? “This. . . This thing between us. It needs to end.” I remember staring at her, my hand in my pocket holding the ring box in a tight grip.
    “It’s not you, it’s me.” Yeah, she went there; too many lame assed romance books had rubbed off on her. I told her to cut the bullshit and tell me the truth. “I’ve met someone else.”
    Words I’d expected to hear from the beginning; to be told she’d made a mistake choosing me. I didn’t want to know, but I asked who it was anyway.
    “Your brother.” It was then I passed out. According to a friend who had been working as a bus boy in the restaurant, I just keeled over to one side and fell out of my seat. Jessie was just sat there watching, crying. He said it spoke volumes that she didn’t help me.
     
    Aiden

Chapter Two
     
    December 2011
     
    So, Mizz . Jones read that last entry out loud yesterday at our meeting. I felt like such an idiot when she asked me why I passed out. It wasn’t as dramatic as it sounded, because it wasn’t like I collapsed and fell off my chair, more like I blacked out and slid from the seat. It was hard to explain to her, hard to explain to anyone, really.
    I remember hearing Jessie’s words, then feeling like I was surrounded by a dense fog. I could hear Jessie’s voice, an edge of panic to it, calling my name. According to her my skin went gray and I kind of slumped out of my seat. I never asked her why she didn’t help me after. I was only out for a minute, but she stayed in her chair the entire time. I never spoke to her directly, but someone had called the EMT, and this was what she’d told them as they were giving me the once over. I felt stupid. They blamed me holding my breath and it was like a panic attack. I wasn’t panicking, I was pissed. There was a clear difference.
    Looking back, her announcement wasn’t that much of a surprise. I mean, Tyler always wanted the girl he couldn’t have. Whenever Jessie came over to the house, he would flirt relentlessly with her; tell her how pretty she looked and everything. When she wasn’t around, he would ask me how much I was paying her to be seen in public with me, trying to demean my relationship with her. It didn’t start straight away beyond his shock at Jessie and me getting together. When it became clear that things between us were getting more serious, he began to get nastier with his comments and snipes. Most of the time, I was able to shut him out, but every now and then, I bit back with a comment myself.
    The amount of times I had to stop myself from punching him was numerous, but I always managed to restrain myself. All he wanted was a reaction from me— something I wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of. No, I kept myself in check and my emotions under control. I did begin using the punching bag in the basement, though. Dad set it up when Ty started to get serious about sports and training. I’d never used it before, not really caring about brawn or bulking my body up, but his words had an effect. Not only was it great exercise, which I’m not ashamed to say buffed me up, but it was a great release for anger. I just pictured his face on the bag and let loose.
    Jessie was the only person I let get close enough to notice my split and bruised knuckles, but I never told her the truth behind my reasons for taking a sudden interest in boxing. Other friends noticed the physical changes in me, but I played it all down to needing to de-stress after intense studying sessions. I didn’t want anyone to know how much he got to me.
    Ty had always managed to belittle me as we grew up, playing on his living up to his role of ‘big brother’, but using it to poke at me and try to get a reaction from me. He was above average height at just over six feet tall, but I passed him, reaching six feet three at seventeen. I’m still growing, something he