for that last year, and I don’t need you here for it this go round.
“The best thing you can do for me is to get as far away from me as possible and stay out of my life. How many times do I need to say it? I HATE YOU! I couldn’t pick up the pieces without you, and I can’t do it with you either, apparently. You’re making everything worse.” I don’t even care about the tears pouring down my face. “Just go away and let me do a piss-poor job of taking care of myself.”
Trace stares at me and I can’t tell if he’s shocked, stunned, or pissed. He’s definitely seeing me in a new light now, I bet. He’ll be glad to get rid of his crazy ex-girlfriend. “Okay,” he finally says, nodding to himself. He turns and starts walking to the door, leaving me stunned with a mixture of disappointment and relief. But then, he swivels on his heels and stalks toward me with such purpose that I back up until my hips hit the counter.
His hazel eyes are stormy and darker than normal, but he gently grabs my chin and tilts my head back to look at him. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not abandoning you again. I’m not giving up on us. Go ahead; break. Fall apart. We’ll put the pieces together afterward. I don’t care what you do or what you say, I’m not letting this go or giving up. You love me as much as you hate me. I want you . I love you . And not even my Britt being depressed and angry is going to push me away.”
I hold my breath, waiting for something to clue me in on what the hell I’m supposed to do with that. His thumb brushes over my lower lip and I launch myself at him. Why are we even talking? Sex would feel better. I snake my arms around his neck, holding him close while my tongue delves into his mouth. Trace kisses me back. I reach between us to unbutton his pants, but he pulls away, taking steps backward and away from me while shaking his head.
What is he doing?
“I can’t do this.”
“Why not?” Her tone kills me. It’s as complicated as she is. Hurt. Disappointment. Anger.
“All you’ve done is tell me that you hate me—”
“And we’ve had sex since then,” she points out, keeping her voice calm now.
“Yeah. Maybe we shouldn’t have,” I carefully admit. “You’re using it to make yourself feel better and so you don’t have to think about what’s been said. I don’t want to have sex with the woman who hates me, not until you can tell me you love me again.”
Her face hardens. “Get out.”
It’s been a damn whirlwind of a morning. I nod and head home. Lily needs to be let out and I need to get ready for work. I’m worn out in every way possible. I didn’t sleep well in that uncomfortable chair of hers. All I could do was watch her take every breath and wonder how she got to this point. I feel guilty as hell.
Maybe I’m not the complete or only cause, but I definitely play a part. If I could just get her better, then we can work on her issues with me. That seems like a difficult, if not impossible, task. I have to try, though.
On the drive home, my phone rings.
“Hey, Jane,” I answer the call from Brittany’s mother.
“Hey. I was calling for an update. I tried calling Brittany, but she sent me to voicemail.”
“Yeah, she’s probably pissed. She sure was pissed with me.”
“Well,” she begins, her voice soft. “You did break her heart, Trace. It doesn’t matter to her right now that you’re trying to put it back together. All she can see and focus on is what you did.” She clears her throat. “So, how was she?”
It doesn’t feel right to be tattling on Brittany, but I also think her mother deserves to know how she’s really doing. “She was angry and drunk last night, passing out soon after I got there, and she was angry and hungover this morning. Did you know she’s not taking her medication?”
“No, I did not,” she says quietly before sighing. “I don’t know how to help her, Trace. She’s never
Anne Conley
Robert T. Jeschonek
Chris Lynch
Jessica Morrison
Sally Beauman
Debbie Macomber
Jeanne Bannon
Carla Kelly
Fiona Quinn
Paul Henke