He spat the word with heavy emphasis. "And you're grounded for the rest of the month. We'll start there."
"Jake, wait! Please don't go. Talk to me first."
He didn't even look at me. His entire body radiated a dangerous energy. "There's nothing to talk about, Clara. You're safe. That's all that matters. But he and I have things to discuss. Trust was broken. Go to your room. Now."
"Please... I was not in danger!"
He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. His back was a rigid wall of anger. "This isn't about you anymore. This is about respect. Something he clearly forgot. Go. To. Your. Room."
My eyes filled instantly. "O-Okay…"
I turned away quickly so he couldn't see me cry, and I slipped into my room. My hands shook as I looked down at what I was still clutching—the little blue bunny.
Without thinking, I rushed to the window and set the bunny right on the windowsill, facing the street. Look at this, Ollie. I'm right here. I'm holding on.
[Clara]: I'm so sorry… I tried to calm him down but he's really, really upset.
From his car, Oliver saw the front door swing open. Jake stepped out onto the porch, his arms crossed, his expression like thunder. Oliver's phone buzzed.
[Oliver]: Don't be sorry. It's not your fault. Just stay in your room. I'll handle him. I promise.
Oliver got out of the car to face his doom. He stopped at the bottom of the porch steps. "Jake, man... I am so, so sorry."
"Sorry? You're sorry?" Jake took slow steps down until he was invading Oliver's personal space. "I called you twelve times, Oliver. Twelve. My sister was missing, and my best friend was completely unreachable." He shoved a finger hard into Oliver's chest. "What the hell happened? Don't you dare lie to me."
Oliver didn't flinch. "I know. You're right. My phone died, man. We... we were talking and we both fell asleep on my couch. I didn't even realize it until Clara woke me up. I am so sorry."
Jake let out a harsh snort. "Your couch? You expect me to believe my sister fell asleep on your lumpy ass couch? Don't insult my intelligence, Oliver. She was in your bed, wasn't she?"
Oliver flinched. For a split second, panic crossed his face. He held Jake's gaze, but his confidence was gone.
"Jake... what do you want me to say?" It was a deflection, but also an admission. "I love her."
Jake's jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped. "And that's supposed to make it okay? You went behind my back. I'm your best friend. You were supposed to respect me."
"I know," Oliver whispered, heavy with regret. "But it just... it happened. And I do love her, Jake. It's real. She's everything."
Jake shook his head, profound disappointment etching his face. "Don't. You don't get to say that. Not after this." He put a hand on Oliver's shoulder, his grip iron-strong. "Go home. Stay away from her. I need to think. Am I clear?"
From my window, I watched Oliver's shoulders slump in defeat. He gave a single, tight nod and drove away.
Jake stormed back into the house, the front door slamming with a deafening boom. Heavy, angry footsteps stomped up the stairs and stopped at my door. The handle rattled violently.
"Clara! Open this door!"
"Stop! I'm not opening this until you calm down!" I yelled back, anger flaring through my fear. "I'm not yours to control, Jake!"
The silence on the other side was stunned. Then, the knob jiggled again, less violently. "Open the door, Clara. We are going to talk. Now. Don't make me take the door off the hinges."
I yanked the door open, tears of annoyance in my eyes. Jake filled the doorway, his chest heaving.
"Don't you ever talk to me like that again," he strained. "I am trying to protect you." His eyes flicked over my disheveled appearance—Oliver's t shirt, my messy hair. His jaw clenched. "Did he touch you? Did he sleep with you? Tell me the truth."
"Jake," I crossed my arms, glaring. "He left. I'm grounded. You won. But you're just one year older than me. I don't owe you an explanation, and I'm not talking to you—not now, not ever!"
The color drained from his face. The threat and the rage just... collapsed. He looked at me as if he had never seen me before.
"...Fine."
He turned and walked heavily back to his room. He closed the door quietly, and that soft click felt more devastating than any shout.
The house fell into a dead, heavy silence. An hour crawled by. Then my phone buzzed.
[Oliver]: Hey. Is everything okay? I'm so sorry, Clara. Call me when you can.
I retreated to the furthest corner of my room, burrowing under the covers to muffle the sound. I pressed call. It rang once.
"Clara? Are you okay? Did he hurt you? What happened?"
Hearing his voice made something inside me loosen. The tight knot in my chest eased just a little… but mixed into that relief was a sharp sting of hurt. He had left. He had walked away. And even if I understood why, it still ached.
"Oliver…" My voice was small and shaky. "I'm… I'm okay. He didn't hurt me. But…" I swallowed hard, my softness cracking. "Why did you just… leave?"
He let out a long, pained breath on the other end of the line. His voice was raw with self-loathing.
"What was I supposed to do, Clara? He's my best friend. He's your brother. I looked him in the eye after I had spent the night with his little sister behind his back..." He choked on the words. "The look on his face... God. He asked me to go. If I had stayed, if I had fought him on it right then... it would have been a real fight. A bad one. I couldn't do that. Not to him. Not in front of your house. It felt like the only choice I could make without making everything a thousand times worse. Didn't you see his face?"
"I know… I get it, Oliver. I'm not blaming you. I'm just… upset. That's all..."
"I know you are. I am too."
His voice was laced with frustration—not at me, but at the situation.
"I'm so sorry, Clara. This is all my fault. I should have been smarter. I should have talked to him first, weeks ago. I just... I wanted you to myself for a little longer. I guess that was selfish."
He sighed, a heavy, static filled sound over the phone.
"What did he say after I left? Was he... was he yelling?"
"No, Ollie. He was upset, so I refused to have that conversation. I feel sorry for you, but I didn't want to say it, because I was disappointed with your decision. I understand it, but still…"
The guilt in his voice doubled, maybe tripled. He could hear the hurt beneath my matter of fact tone, and it cut straight through him.
"Shit, Clara... I really messed this up, didn't I? Disappointing you is the last thing I ever wanted to do."
He ran a hand through his hair—the sound of fabric rustling was audible through the phone.
"Look... if you need some space to figure things out with Jake, I get it. I can wait. Just... please don't shut me out completely, okay?"
"No, it's not your fault... I was the one who asked you out first, and I did try to win your heart. I don't want to let my boyfriend go like this. Not because I'm clinging, but because what we built matters to me."
He went quiet for a second, the only sound being his sharp intake of breath. "Boyfriend," his voice, when he spoke again, was softer, more vulnerable. "You called me your boyfriend." It wasn't a question, but a quiet statement of awe.