Chapter Forty Two
Maggie
Yesterday was filled with so many tears. Once we finished Bridgette’s therapy session, we went back to my place. Brad wanted to come, but you could tell Bridgette wanted to drop it for now and he wasn’t prepared to do that. We thought he’d exhausted all his questions but would continue to dig deeper the longer he thought about it. I understand his need to fully comprehend the onslaught of new information, because fuck knows I do too, but he has to give her time. Her allowing us to sit in on her session today, sharing all of her secrets and vulnerabilities, it has to have been so hard.
We’re snuggled in bed as I run my fingers through her hair when she looks at my t-shirt.
“What are the marks from?” she asks.
I stiffen for a second.
“What marks, baby?”
Her hand lifts up, brushing against my inner arm. I pull away and she frowns.
“I know they’re new. I know your body inside and out, Maggie. I first noticed them…a little bit ago. Are you…did you do this to yourself?”
I wince, shaking my head, which only further deepens her frown.
“Then what happened?”
She cracked her chest wide open today, and showed me every inch of her messy heart. She trusted me in a way you could only dream of being trusted by another human. Technically, I don’t owe anyone anything, but I want to give her this piece.
“Last fall, when Harry walked in on Maryia and I at Putnam manor…”
“I remember.” Bridgette nods.
I swallow. “He took me back to the house, down to the cellar, and tied me to a chair. He told me that I was sick. That he could cure me, fix me.”
“What did he do?” she asks, her voice just above a whisper.
“He called it therapy,” I say, shaking my head to clear the rising memories. “It felt more like torture.”
“Maggie,” Bridgette gasps.
“Burns, hits, electric shocks. There isn’t a thing he didn’t try. I’m ashamed to admit, it almost started to work. He used Maryia specifically as an example, and when I first saw her on Christmas Eve after so long, I was kind of…scared.”
Bridgette watches me with rapt attention as she nods, allowing me the space I need. We both stay quiet for several minutes before she hesitantly speaks.
“Do you think that’s why you’re so attached to her? You’ve bonded with her…you broke through the…training my father put you through, and now you don’t know how to let go?”
I frown. I hadn’t thought of it like that. I hadn’t thought of myself attached to Maryia outside of a normal relationship. Maybe Bridgette has a point, though.
Shaking my head, I look up at the ceiling.
“I have to break up with her.”
Bridgette rests her head on my shoulder.
“Because of me?”
I don’t miss the hopefulness in her tone. A small part of her wants me to leave Maryia for her. That insecure part of Bridgette, the one where she isn’t sure she’s worthy of a true and healthy love, is desperate to know. I so badly want to give it to her, but I have to be honest as well.
“Not just because of you,” I say, causing her expression to fall slightly. “Maryia and I don’t fit. We fight more than we laugh. I’m constantly counting down the seconds until she goes home, and I avoid her texts at every turn.”
Like today.
“It’s not supposed to be like that,” I say with a shake of my head. “We’re supposed to want to be together all the time. We are supposed to have a hard time breathing without one another.”
Bridgette nods as I close my eyes and let out a deep exhale. When my eyes pop open, I pin them on her as I continue.
“And I can’t continue being in a relationship with someone when I’m in love with another. When I want to build a life with another.”
She looks surprised, and I honestly don’t understand why. Does the silly girl not realize what I would do for her? More like what I wouldn’t do for her? Bridgette Brenton has ruled me far longer than she even realizes, and at this point, I have no doubt nothing, and no one will be changing that.
“You want to build a life with me?” Bridgette asks on a soft whisper.
“Very much, if that’s what you want,” I say as I brush a piece of hair out of her face.
She gives me a small smile, biting her lip as she nods.
Leaning forward, I press my lips to hers when my phone rings. Again. It hasn’t stopped ringing since this morning. Apparently, all Maryia needed was the night to be pissed with me, before she started blowing me up nonstop.
Groaning, I pull away and check to see that, yep, it most definitely is her. Bridgette sends the phone a scathing look.
“Can’t she take a fucking hint?”
I laugh at that. “Easy girl. Claws away. It’s best if I meet up with her and get this over with.”
She pouts at that, but nods.
“Fine. Do you want to grab dinner tonight? Maybe head into Boston for the night?”
My eyebrows lift. “Miss Brenton, are you asking me on a date?”
Bridgette rolls her eyes as she pushes up to stand.
“Like you’re not dying to go out with me.”
I smile as I watch her slip her shoes on, grabbing her purse and not so subtly sticking her ass out as she bends over. I sink my teeth into my lip and nod.
“As long as I can have you for dessert.”
She gives me a placating laugh and shakes her head.
“You’re gonna have to work on your pickup lines, you’re sounding as corny as Walcott.”
I laugh at that. “I’ll prepare some of my best material. I’ll call you when I’m done with…all of that,” I say, gesturing to my phone that stopped ringing just to start all over again.
Bridgette sneers down at it like the device personally offends her.
“Good luck with that.”
“Gee, thanks.”
I watch Bridgette slip out of my room before I grab my phone, answering on the last ring.
“Hello?”
“Oh my god! I thought you were dead or something. Why haven’t you been answering me?” Maryia demands.
I can’t repress my eyeroll. “I’ve been busy. What’s up?”
“What’s up? Seriously? We need to talk!”
Heaving out a sigh, I sit up in bed and nod.
“Yeah, we do. Where are you?”
“In my dorm, why?”
“I’m coming to you. Be there in a few.”
With that, I hang up the phone and slip on my sandals. I’m trying to prepare myself for the worst, but hope for the best. Maybe she’s as sick of this back and forth as I am. Maybe we can be friends. Or maybe she will flip the fuck out. Only one way to find out, I guess.
* * *
The walk to Maryia’s was quick. She was waiting at her door for me and I promptly shut it behind me, choosing to stand as I rip the band aid off.
“I think we should break up.”
Shock reverberates across her face as she stares at me, wide eyed, mouth agape. Absolutely shook. Alright, looks like we aren’t on the same page.
“What?” she asks, her mouth opening and closing before she shakes her head. “Excuse me?”
I sigh, shaking my head as I cross my arms over my chest.
“I’m tired, Maryia. I’m tired of the fighting, the jealousy, the clinginess. We aren’t a good fit, and it’s putting a strain on both of us pretending like we are.”
I wait for the anger, the objects getting thrown at my head, and the curse words. Instead, something worse happens. Tears. Fat, hot, rolling tears pour down her face as her lip quivers.
“I…I’m sorry. I-I know that I’ve b-been needy. I’m so-orry. I just. I love you. I love you so much. Please don’t break up with me. Please, I can change.”
Shaking my head, I do my best to push down my sympathy, but it’s hard when someone you care about is hurting, and you know you’re the one causing that hurt.
“It’s not up to you to change, Maryia. You need to be able to be yourself, and so do I. This just isn’t the type of relationship I want.”
“So, that’s it? I don’t get a say? You say we’re done and…poof?” she chokes out.
I stay quiet, and she shakes her head as she begins to spiral.
“No! No, no, no, no. I can’t lose you! I can’t let this happen. Please! Please, I’m begging you!”
“Maryia, you’ll be okay,” I say softly. “You’ll meet someone else and?—”
“I can’t!” she shouts. “It’s you, Maggie. You’re the one!” she screams as she begins to hyperventilate.
“Take a breath, Maryia. Deep breaths.”
“No! You don’t get it! You don’t!” she says, her head whipping wildly around before landing on her mini kitchen. She reaches over to the knife block, pulling out the largest knife she finds before pressing it to her throat.
My eyes widen in shock, and I freeze.
“Put the knife down,” I say evenly.
“NO!” she screams, her body shaking as she sobs. “No! If you do this, if you break up with me, then you have to live with ending me, too! I can’t let you go, Maggie. I can’t fail.”
“Babe,” I say, holding my hands up as I take a small step towards her. “You didn’t fail anything. It’s not you failing, it’s just us not meshing. You deserve someone better, something better.”
“There is no one else!” she snaps, holding the knife more steady as she takes a step back from me.
“Maryia, put the knife down. Please,” I ask calmly.
“Tell me you’re not leaving me! That you’ll stay with me!”
Is she fucking serious?
Her nostrils flare and she jerks the knife just barely. It’s enough to catch a chunk of skin, and a thin line of blood begins running down her neck.
“No!” I shout. “Okay, okay. I’ll stay. We-we’ll make it work. Just give me the knife, babe. Can you do that?”
Tears are still pouring down her face as she shakes, watching me like she doesn’t quite trust me.
“You promise?”
“I promise,” I say as I take another small step towards her.
“You’ll never leave me?”
“I’ll never leave you,” I say, adrenaline thrumming in my body as I take another careful step towards her.
She lets me get closer. Another step and another and another before I stop just inches from her.
“Tell me you love me.”
I never have before. She’s told me she loves me plenty of times, but I’ve never returned it. I don’t feel it’s something you should just say for the sake of saying it. Especially when you don’t feel it. It’s not like I can say that right now, though.
“I love you, Maryia. Please don’t hurt yourself. Don’t hurt my girlfriend, okay?”
Something in that seems to pacify her. Whether it’s the girlfriend part or the I love you, I can see the tension melting from her body. She allows me to get close enough to her, and I grab the knife from her hand, tossing it across the room. Maryia dissolves into a fit of sobs, curling into my arms as I slide us down to the floor. We stay there for I don’t know how long, her body never running out of tears as she buries herself into me, while I contemplate what the fuck to do.