Chapter 33
RAZOR
What the actual fuck. Where did that statement come from? Since when was Sunday considering a new life away from me, away from the compound—the Reapers?
There’s a buzzing in my brain that won’t stop as I blindly stumble to my condo, the only place available to think.
She’s leaving me. She’s made her decision, and is done waiting for me to declare something that will never happen.
I’ve lost her and I only have myself to blame for that.
When I reach my condo, I grasp the whiskey bottle, tearing off the cap and chugging it neat. It doesn’t help.
I fall onto the couch, my head in my hands, and seriously set about losing my shit.
I never cry; I never have, and right now I wish that it was possible to bleed out some of the pain inside me.
Sunday is leaving, there is nothing I can do to stop that from happening because I can’t go back on my vow to my mom and to the kid in me.
It’s better to set Sunday free than lose her another way. She will find someone who makes her happy, someone who isn’t me.
I chug some more whiskey, the edges of the day blurring, my heart erratic, my breathing labored as I struggle to get a grip.
* * *
I must pass out because the sunlight burns on my face as I wake to a new day, still fully clothed, my limbs aching, the couch an uncomfortable place to sleep. The banging in my head is my alarm call, and then it all comes rushing back. The pain, the desolation, the anger at myself.
I acted like a jerk last night. I stormed out and Sunday didn’t deserve that.
I should make it up to her, declare feelings.
It’s no less than she deserves, but I already know I won’t.
I never will, and the saddest thing is, I would rather lose her than ask her to stay.
I don’t have that right, and she stands a chance at a better life, away from me and the ghosts that haunt my past.
A shower does little to revive me, and I can’t face the cafeteria today. I’m a sulky bastard and my company is the only thing on offer right now.
Ordinarily, I would seek out my twin, but his mind is settled on someone else right now.
It surprised me when I realized the depth of his feelings for Delilah.
It was obvious the moment he walked in, holding her hand.
My brother never holds anyone’s hand; in my entire life, he never has.
That alone told me everything, and I wish I were more like him.
Able to let the past go. To move on and be happy. But I accept I never will.
I wish I was hungry; that would tell me my body is operating on manual at least, but I’m sick inside. I lost my appetite because pain has replaced normality.
I can’t face the world, not yet anyway, and resign myself to sulking in my room for the rest of the century.
A gentle knock on the door causes my heart to jerk inside me because I know that sound.
My heart is hammering as I wrench open the door, and I swear my soul relaxes when Sunday smiles nervously at me.
“Razor.”
Her soft use of my name is the sweetest sound, and I pull the door wider, “Come in, darlin’.”
She hesitates and chews on her lip, and I draw on every ounce of strength inside me not to take her in my arms and never let her go.
She edges inside, her eyes lowered, and as she perches on the edge of the couch, her fingers tangle in her lap.
I say nothing; I never do, and as she looks up, it’s as if she stabs me in the heart when I register the hurt brimming in her beautiful eyes.
“You left me.”
The accusation hangs in the air, and I blow out a breath.
“I’m an asshole, Sunday. I never pretended to be anything else.”
It’s awkward as fuck. There is so much I want to say to her. To declare my feelings, to ask her to stay. To be my old lady, forever by my side, but my mom’s voice is loud in my mind, forcing me away from the edge.
‘Promise me you will never be him, Sean. Be better.’
I swallow the lump in my throat and don’t miss the concern in Sunday’s expression.
“Do you want to talk about last night, Razor?”
She is so sad that it hurts me more.
“You’re leaving.”
I state the fucking obvious and she sighs, patting the seat beside her.
I drop onto it at her command, always her command, and she angles her head in my direction, her gaze unwavering.
“I have two weeks. Ryder has arranged a place at beauty college. I am studying theatrical make-up; it’s more than I could have hoped for.”
“Where?”
The words scratch against my vocal cords because talking about this makes it real, and I’m not prepared for that.
“Maine.”
“Why there?”
“It’s the best college and, well, it’s far enough away from Los Angeles to make me feel safe.”
I ball my fist because Sunday’s safety should be my concern. Not going it alone in fucking Maine of all places.
I can tell she is desperate for some kind of reaction rather than anger from me, but I can’t ask her to give up her dream, and I don’t want a long-distance relationship with her. I don’t want a relationship - period because I promised myself I never would.
“Two weeks?”
She nods, her expression sad, devastated even, and I wonder why she’s going if it’s making her unhappy.
“Where will you live?”
“Ryder assured me he will arrange an apartment near the college. He will even set me up with a job to fit around my lectures.”
“Is it what you want?”
I ask the only question that matters and the pain in her expression tells me more than her words.
“We both know what I want, honey, but you’re not ready for that. The trouble is, I’m not sure you ever will be.”
I can’t help myself and reaching out, I cup her beautiful face in my rough hands and stare into her eyes, drowning in them, committing this moment to memory.
“I want what’s best for you, darlin’. I always have, and I am not best for you. You should probably follow your dream.”
Her face falls; she is crushed, and I’m the bastard who took a sword to our connection and severed it.
Her eyes fill with tears, and I can’t bear it. My voice is husky as I whisper, “I don’t want you to go. But I’m a selfish bastard who can only offer you more of the same. I can’t give you what you want. I never will.”
Tears spill down her cheeks as she nods, her acceptance breaking my heart, and she forces a smile.
“But we have two weeks. That’s something I guess.”
I brush her tears away and force a smile onto my face. “Then we shouldn’t waste a second of them.”
Her resignation is killing me inside. Every word I speak is not the one I want to say.
I should be declaring my fucking love for her, begging her to stay.
To be my old lady, the mother of my kids.
But the past is refusing to allow that. I can’t have kids, ever.
What if they turn out to be carbon copies of him? What if they become me?
My mind is raging, and I’m distracted when Sunday’s lips connect with mine, and as she kisses me, it all fades away in a puff of smoke.
My thumb rubs against her cheek as I kiss her slowly, deeply, and with passion. What I can’t say with words I can demonstrate.
I love Sunday so much it hurts, which is why I must let her go. For her sake, not mine, because she doesn’t realize it yet, but this is the best for her. She will thank me in the future, and I will live with the memory that I did the right thing—for her.