Chapter Thirty
Serena doesn’t get out another word before I’m closing the distance between us, kissing her as I pull her against me. How am I supposed to tell her what she wants to hear? How do I explain to this fucking magnificent human that none of this was ever her fault? All her heartbreak is on me and me alone. It has never been her fault. She is not the issue. How could she be? Serena is a fucking saint. Her love is the only thing keeping me from completely crumbling into my final damnation.
How do I tell her I left for her own good?
I was a closeted teenage alcoholic, already craving more than alcohol could offer. I knew I would lose everything. My parents were already dead, my grandparents were not long after. I had no prospect for college. Rejection letter after rejection letter found its way to me.
Meanwhile, she was on track to be valedictorian, bound for college to make her mark on this world. I would have only held her back, even if she’d never admit that.
Mind racing, I’m frantically searching for the words I know she desperately needs to hear. But just like every time, I fall short, failing her no matter what I do. Panic starts to rise in me as she begins to pull away.
“You can’t just kiss me in hopes of distracting me,” she glares.
“Distracting you was never my intent, Serenity.” I answer, desperate to tell her what she wants to hear, yet I can’t.
“Then what? What is it? Why have you been so . . . off?” She takes a step back and crosses her arms.
I offer a simple response in hopes it will be enough for now, until I can find the words to make her understand everything. It feels like I’m walking on a tightrope, one misguided step away from certain death.
“You’re right. You deserve all that and more. I am so fucking sorry, my sweet girl. My Serenity.” I draw out the nickname I gave her when we were children. I knew even as a kid she was where I found safety and peace. She was the only place I felt whole after the crash killed my parents. It should have killed me.
I pull her against me again, not allowing myself to blink in hopes she sees the truth behind my eyes. And that she’ll see while my words may fail me most days, in this moment she can sense my truth. While some of the words I spoke to her were a brutal truth, I would do anything in my power to never be the villain in her story again. She deserves the goddamn storybook love. Who knows what will happen when the week is over and she leaves, but right now, she’s here in my arms.
Maybe I could offer her a taste of a fairytale ending, if only for tonight . . .