Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Geraldine
I stood in my room, the afternoon sun slanting through the curtains, and folded my clothes into my suitcase with shaky hands.
Tears welled up, and I blinked hard, but they spilled over and dripped onto the jeans I held.
I wiped my face with my sleeve and kept packing, the zipper on my bag half-open as my stuff spilled out.
The quiet of the house pressed in, Cosmo and Christian out doing chores, and Damian somewhere downstairs.
My chest tightened, and I sat on the bed, my breath caught as more tears came.
I’d been fine giving myself to anyone before, but now it felt wrong, and I hated that I’d let it happen.
I shoved a pair of shorts into the bag and tried to steady my hands, but the crying wouldn’t stop.
“Get it together,” I muttered and swiped my eyes again, folding my sundress with trembling fingers.
I dropped it and covered my face, my throat burned as I fought to breathe.
I couldn’t leave without telling Damian how I felt, even if it hurt.
I stood up, wiped my face on my sleeve, and headed to his room, my bare feet quiet on the wood floor, my heart pounding in my ears.
His door was cracked open, and I pushed it wider and stepped in slowly. He sat at his desk, papers spread out, his back to me, and didn’t turn when I walked in. “Damian,” I said, my voice wobbled, and I cleared my throat to steady it. “Can we talk?”
He set his pen down and turned his chair, his face blank, and his eyes dark but not warm. “What’s up?” he said and leaned back, his hands resting on his knees.
I swallowed and stepped closer, my hands twisted together in front of me. “I’m packing,” I said and took a breath. “Leaving tomorrow, like you said. But I need to tell you something first.”
“Go ahead,” he said and nodded, his voice flat with no hint of softness.
“I messed up,” I said and blinked fast as my eyes stung. “I’ve been with other guys here, and I didn’t care at first. But now I do because I’m falling for you. I want to be just with you.”
He looked at me, his expression didn’t change, and he sat still for a moment. “Okay,” he said and shifted in his chair. “Thanks for telling me.”
“That’s it?” I said, my voice cracked, and a tear slipped down my cheek. “I’m pouring my heart out, and you just say okay?”
“What do you want me to say?” he said and stood up, his hands slid into his pockets. “You’re leaving. That’s that.”
“I don’t want it to be,” I said and stepped closer, my hands reached out but stopped short. “I like you, Damian. More than I should. I didn’t mean for it to get like this.”
He nodded slowly and looked at the floor, then back at me. “I get it,” he said, his tone even. “But it doesn’t change anything. Goodbye, Geraldine. Take care of yourself.”
I stared at him, my chest ached, and my throat closed up. “That’s all?” I said, my voice barely a whisper as more tears fell. “You don’t feel anything?”
“I didn’t say that,” he said and shrugged, his face still blank. “But you’re going. Safe trip.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out, and the tears blurred my vision.
“Fine,” I said and turned away, wiping my hands wiped my face as I walked out.
His door clicked shut behind me, and I stumbled back to my room, my breath hitched with sobs.
I shut my door and sank onto the bed, my suitcase still open, and let the crying take over.
Maybe I deserved this—giving myself away like it didn’t matter—and now the one guy I wanted didn’t want me back.
I pulled my knees up and hugged them, my face pressed against them as the tears soaked my jeans.
“Stupid,” I muttered and rocked a little, trying to calm down.
“So stupid.” I’d thought he might feel something, anything, but his flat goodbye cut deeper than I’d expected.
I reached for my phone on the nightstand and tossed it aside, not ready to call Hazel yet.
I didn’t want to hear her say I’d messed up when I already knew it.
The suitcase stared at me, half-packed, and I grabbed a shirt and stuffed it in, my hands moved fast and sloppy.
“He doesn’t care,” I said to the empty room, my voice broke as I shoved in a pair of socks.
“Why should I?” But I did care, and that was the problem—I cared too much, and he didn’t, and it left me hollow.
I zipped the bag shut and flopped back on the bed, my eyes burned as I stared at the ceiling.
The house creaked around me, and I heard the faint rumble of the truck outside—Cosmo and Christian back from chores—but I didn’t move.
I didn’t want their laughs or their hands on me now, not after this.
I rolled onto my side and pulled the quilt over my head, my sobs muffled as I curled up tight.
Tomorrow I’d leave, and maybe it was better this way, but it didn’t stop the hurt, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d brought it on myself.