Sighing, I switched my phone to silent and lay down, trying to rest. When I woke up, I noticed more than a dozen missed calls. Bryce’s name flashed across the screen. Frowning, I answered, bracing myself for whatever storm he was about to unleash.
“Why weren’t you answering?!” His voice was sharp, laced with irritation.
“I was asleep,” I replied, rubbing my eyes, too tired to care.
"I’ve already explained everything to you. I didn’t know you were hurt. Lucia was terrified that night—I couldn’t leave her! And now, you’re sulking again. You’re not a pup anymore, Isla. Why do you always get so jealous?" His words hit me like a slap, though I wasn’t sure why they still had the power to sting. I wasn’t angry. I was just done caring.
Sure, before, every time he went somewhere with his buddies, I couldn't relax. It was because his friends loved to play around. Back then, I was always worried, frequently calling to check on him. But all I got was Bryce's disgust. He would always say, “What is it again, Isla? Can't you stop being so clingy?” If not that, it was, “Isla, do you enjoy following people around like a lost pup?”