Chapter 49
TERINA
Present
I sit in the living room and listen to the faint sounds of DiAngelo working out at the opposite end of the apartment. The yawning emotional distance between us makes me feel like he’s on the other end of the planet, and I hate it.
After talking with Isa, I feel a tiny bit more confident about opening up to him, so when the room goes silent, I head back to find him.
My heart contracts at the sight of him sitting on the bench, his head hung low.
He’s worked himself harder than usual. And that’s saying something, considering it’s his second workout for the day, and his leg is still healing.
Something’s eating at him. That wasn’t the case last night before I shut down his advances. Ever since, he’s been withdrawn. It’s safe to assume I’m at least part of the reason he’s upset. I want to do what I can to fix this, but holy crap, am I nervous.
“Hey,” I say softly from the doorway to announce my appearance.
He lifts his gaze just enough to see me through his thick lashes. “Hey.”
“Not sure if you have plans for supper. I’d be happy to make something for us.”
D stands and wipes his face with a hand towel. He’s wearing athletic pants with no shirt, and my eyes are desperate to follow the droplets of sweat as they trail down the dips and curves of his taut muscles. He is truly magnificent to behold.
“No need to mess with it. I’m good with making myself a sandwich or something simple tonight.” He doesn’t comment on my wandering gaze. He hardly looks at me.
“You sure? I really don’t mind.”
“I’m sure. I need to get some work done after I shower.” He comes closer, elevating my heart rate, but instead of intimacy, he’s looking for escape. His hand on my lower back coaxes me to the side enough for him to squeeze through the doorway without touching him.
He’s sweaty, so the gesture is thoughtful, except it feels like more than that. It feels like avoidance. And that’s what it is because after our short exchange, I’m now standing alone in an empty room.
Is this his way of telling me he’s changed his mind?
Has he decided I’m not worth the bother?
Fear hollows out my chest and rings in my ears. I’m going to lose him if I don’t do something. There was a time when I might have preferred the safety of isolation to exposing my vulnerabilities, but I’m quickly realizing I want DiAngelo more than I want to be safe.
I want DiAngelo. Period.
And I want DiAngelo to want me. Every broken piece of me.
Go now, while you have the courage. Hurry.
My legs are in motion of their own volition, carrying me through the apartment to the primary bathroom. D stands at the vanity with the broad expanse of his tattooed back in full view. We lock eyes in the mirror. He must see the desperation on my face because he immediately turns to face me.
“Kristi told me someone was extorting money from Craig and using my safety to control him.” My rushed words sound random, but it feels like the right place to start.
I don’t exactly have a speech planned. All I can do is let my heart do the talking and hope it comes out right.
“I went to the police station and demanded they tell me the truth. I saw the photos. I saw the quarters and know they were a message related to the money he owed. I know he died because of me—trying to keep me safe.”
“Rina—” DiAngelo takes a step toward me, but I raise my hand to stop him.
“Let me finish. I need to get it all out, then you can say whatever you want.” I regroup my thoughts for a second before I continue.
“The guilt I felt about that was compounded by the fact that I was already contemplating leaving Craig. He was always gone. All he seemed to care about was making more money, but once I learned the reason for that, I hated myself for being so blind. I’ve spent the past five years keeping everyone at arm’s length to avoid ever feeling that pain again. ”
My hands worry at one another, the nerves of my impending confession building to a frenzied state.
I can tell D wants to interject. Concern lines his forehead and casts harsh shadows across his eyes.
He listens, however, as I’ve asked, and I’m grateful because if I stop, I may not ever get it all out.
“I told you I was still in love with Craig, but that was a lie. I haven’t been in love with him for a very long time.
I only said that because … because I’m so damn scared of what I’m feeling for you.
Scared you’ll get hurt because of me. Scared of falling for you …
then losing you. I’ve been so damn terrified that I’ve been pushing you away before we’ve even had a chance because there’s something you don’t know about me. Something you may not like.”
I wipe my now sweaty hand on my jean shorts and unbutton them, letting them drop to the floor. With trembling fingers, I lift my shirt over my head so that I’m standing before him in my bra and panties.
D’s concern has shifted to confusion as he tries to figure out what I’m trying to tell him.
He’ll see soon enough, and then there’ll be no going back.
I hook my thumbs in my panties and drag them down over my hips until they join my shorts and shirt on the floor. I nervously run my hand across the blotchy skin of my lower belly, and when I speak again, my voice is fragile and raw.
“I struggled with the guilt after Craig was murdered. One night, by accident, I spilled hot wax on myself.”
DiAngelo’s eyes clench shut.
His anguish feels like a door slammed in my face, stealing the oxygen from my lungs.
“I … uh … I know it sounds crazy,” I force myself to continue.
“But I felt better afterward. Like the pain reset my brain. I know it’s fucked up, and I totally understand if this changes things.
I just needed you to know that I wasn’t rejecting you—I just didn’t know how to tell you the truth.
This doesn’t happen often, but I was struggling after the cemetery when things shifted between us, and I got weak.
I’m sorry,” I breathe, my vision now swimming with tears.
I reach for my panties.
“Stop.” D’s heavy command freezes me on the spot.