Chapter 39 #2
I can’t.
My world just keeps shifting and moving…
I can’t stop it. Everything narrows to the sight of her pregnant belly and the glass I couldn’t break.
Like the shackles that bind me back to that horrible place.
“I need to leave,” I choke out, clawing at my chest because it hurts.
“Take me home,” I sob. “Home. Not my mom's. Not to Iz... Please. Please.” My nails dig into my flesh, the sting a welcome reprieve. “I can’t—”
Alexa nods, blinking away her own tears as she softly murmurs. “Okay, I can do that.”
The drive back to the place I shared with Max is quiet and overbearing.
I cried all the way back there, and even in the comfort of everything that used to be mine, I cried even more.
We sit on the floor of my living room, and everything is so empty.
A reflection of me, hollow and haunting.
I sob into my best friend's arms as she holds me through it all without asking any questions, even though she’s concerned.
That much I can tell in her soft gaze. My body shakes violently against her.
“It’s okay,” she whispers. “Let it out. You survived worse. I don’t know what happened, but don’t let them win. ”
I can laugh at her words. Me surviving, ha… The worst… No. She has no idea.
Her phone buzzes on the floor, the sound echoing through the empty space. We both glance at the screen, the contact picture of Isaac fills it. “Should I answer?”
I don’t protest. Maybe I should. Yet, I can’t find the will to be angry at him.
He’s a victim, much like myself. Much like that baby growing in her womb, who I’m sure would need him.
The only thing I need to know is whether Isaac knows.
Did the man I trust more than anyone lie to me?
No. He couldn’t have betrayed my trust that way, not after everything we went through.
I dip my chin, giving her permission to answer.
Just as she lets go of me, before she can answer, the familiar roar of the Camaro approaching signals of his arrival.
I curl into myself, tracking her movements as she steps outside to meet him, my arms pulling tighter around my ribs, wishing I could just curl into nothing and fade away.
My mind continues to spiral, shifting between the basement and the truth.
Realizing all along his guilt and pain is because of this.
Not what we went through, but this. This secret.
One he willingly kept from me all this time.
So many thoughts cycle, it’s instant and non-stop.
Why did he keep this from me? How long?
All the grief I have kept at bay hits like tidal waves, destroying everything in its wake.
The door opens, and my breath hitches at the sight of him, as he moves closer before collapsing before me.
His knees crash into the wooden floor, already grovelling at my feet.
The sight confirms my suspicion, and the way he mutters my name feels like I’ve been shot in my heart.
“Ronnie?” My name comes out as a plea… a silent apology.
I break then.
The sound of his voice matched the pain written all over his beautiful face, the dam explodes. I lift my gaze to meet his. To force him to look at me. “You kept it from me.”
His jaw flexes. “I promise I was gonna tell you, but then the miscarriage,” he chokes out. “I just wanted to protect you.”
“It’s yours?” I ask the question that lingers in my mind.
I know the truth. I feel it in my bones.
Now he needs to confirm it. All it takes is his hesitation for me to know my answer.
It’s minimal, a quick beat, a stuttered breath that shatters me entirely when he gives me a small, broken nod.
My heart shrivels inside my chest, just as the storm breaks outside.
Thunder rolls and rain begins to pour against the roof as if the sky grieves alongside us.
“I’m sorry, when I found out everything happened, and…” He bites back a sob. “I can’t be there.” Now tears stream down his face. “I can’t—I can’t turn my back on the—I’m sorry, Ronnie. Fuck. I’m so sorry.”
He is sorry… sorry… about what lying? About the baby? What is he so sorry for? My face crumples. “I wouldn’t ask you to.”
Hazel orbs plead with me, for what, I’m not sure. Maybe to stay with him. To forgive him. To accept his reality, but I don’t think I can. “Ronnie, baby,” he cries. “Fuck….”
I cry harder. It’s like Bella after Edward left her.
It’s pure agony, it’s like being torn in half, knowing that this is the beginning of the end.
Because I can’t cage him in my trauma, while he’s becoming a father.
Because loving him has always been a wound that won’t stop bleeding. And I just want it to stop.
“I can’t.” I sob into my hands. “I can’t ask you to stay with me, not this time. That baby… he’ll need you more than I ever could.”
“Don’t–” he whispers hoarsely, almost doubling over from the pain.
“Don’t do this, please,” he pleads, as if he could stop it from happening.
The words come out broken and raw, as if his throat is full of glass.
His shoulders tremble, his jaw clenches, and for a second, he looks like he might actually collapse from the weight of it all.
Love just isn’t enough, not this time. Not when the world keeps carving us apart. I shake my head, wiping at my cheeks, my hands trembling too hard to hide. “I don’t think I can stay.”
The second the words leave me, he snaps.
Not with anger but with grief. In one swift motion, he obliterates the distance between us, engulfing me with his warmth.
His arm curls around me as he crushes me into him, like he’s terrified I might vanish if he loses his grip.
His mouth finds mine, it’s frantic and wet with tears, branding me with each press of his lips.
And I melt into it. I sink into him as he peppers kisses over my face.
As if he could love me into acceptance. Love me into forgiveness.
Still, I cling to him, drowning and kissing him so desperately I might actually convince myself that I can’t do this.
I can’t leave him.
He tastes like salt and weed.
Our teeth clash, our breath comes in short, ragged breaths, our own sinful symphony. It’s sloppy, messy, full of tears and grief turning into touch. We make out like kissing could fix this, but it doesn’t. Our touch only becomes hungrier, which turns into something primal. Something uniquely ours.
One last moment of pretending we aren’t breaking. Pretending I can stay here with him.
My fingers twist in his shirt. Immediately, hating the feel of the barrier between us, I drag Iz closer and closer until there’s no space between us.
He lifts me off the ground with a groan, his hands gripping my thighs with a bruising need.
Before I know it, my back hits the back of the couch, and within seconds, he tears every barrier of fabric that separates us.
It’s not slow or purposeful the way he rips away my clothes and I his.
Everything feels like it’s collapsing, as if we should stop, but we won’t.
Not this time.
His warm breath shakes against my throat when he says. “I can’t lose you.” He nips my skin, before flicking his tongue against it. “I just got you back. I can—”
Even though we both know he has. I cup his face, guiding his back to mine again, and he kisses me like a man starved, or maybe he’s trying to memorize every angle of my lips.
His hand moves up my back before settling at the base of my neck and deepening the kiss, before he pulls me into him, making me straddle him and sliding inside me all in one go.
It’s not love making… It’s devastating how he slams into me.
A sharp gasp escapes my lips, from the fullness of him, my head falling forward, the deeper I take him.
It’s too deep, too everything, and I’m not ready to let go.
I don’t want to. But I have to. For him.
For me.
For us.
His hips thrust up, moving against me with urgency.
“Fuck—Ronnie,” he breathes against my neck, his voice completely wrecked.
“Don’t push me away. Please—Please don’t.
” I dig my nails into his shoulders, pulling him deeper, my hips rocking over him, the tears blurring my vision as the world narrows to the rhythm of him thrusting into me.
He fucks me like he’s trying to memorize me, and I let him.
I kiss him like I’m trying to stay alive.
Anchoring myself to him as he rolls his hips, making me feel every inch of him deep inside me.
Iz pulls away, but not before nipping my lips, his forehead falling into my shoulder.
I feel the tears, small droplets falling on my heated skin as he thrusts harder, deeper and deeper.
My walls clench around him, causing him to groan.
He fucks me through the orgasm that ripples through me.
Every cell in my body sparks to life before fading into my reality.
We don’t talk. We only breathe, so it doesn't feel like dying.
I let myself fall into the familiar feeling that gathers once again at my core, rocking my hips harder.
Chasing the high that only Isaac can give.
Hating that this ecstasy feels too much like a goodbye.
His hand slides up my spine, before kissing my collarbone, my jaw, the corner of my mouth and falling back, letting his mouth travel down my sternum before he closes it around my nipple, which he nips and flicks with his tongue.
“Isaac,” I breathe out, the feeling is too much.
“I know, baby, let go for me.” And I do. The orgasm slams into me in small waves that he fucks me through. “I love you,” he whispers into my skin. “Fuck… I love you so fucking much.” He thrusts again and again before he pins me down to him. “Look at me when you come, Ronnie.”
When my gaze finds his, I combust from the pressure, the heat, and the stretch. It all hits at once, sending a shiver down my spine. I quiver against him, while he continues to fuck me through my orgasm.
“That’s it, baby, use me.” He moans. “Use my dick to make yourself come.” I do.
I use him until I’m coming all over his cock, my head falling backwards just as another wave begins to climb.
“Fuck, Iz.” My words make him moan, lifting me up higher and slamming me deeper into him.
Each of his movements dragged out so he can feel me take him deeper and deeper.
Once again, my orgasm begins to climb at the base of my spine, my nails dig into his shoulder, and my own body bounces over him with his help.
My gaze finds him, and in that moment, I fall over the edge.
I give in to the pleasure that washes over me, making me dizzy from it.
“Fuck, ma…” he mutters, biting softly into my flesh, pumping slowly, savouring how my pussy flutters for him. And when it’s over, we remain holding one another, our grief soaking into each other.
“Iz,” my voice barely a whisper, he hums in return before pulling away just enough so I can look into his eyes. “I love you.”
His entire body shudders at my words. There’s a pause between us, like a collapse of everything around us.
His hold tightens around me, his face falling into my breast. I can hear the sniffles, feel the shake of his body, but I continue anyway, “I need to learn to live again. And you… you need to be a father.”
He doesn’t say a word, and I don’t need him to. I know exactly how he feels because I feel the same. I’m not mad. I’m not angry. Not even hurt. I just want to live, and this time I choose myself, even if something inside me dies quietly without him.
Isaac
My head hurts from all the crying, my arms still carry the weight of her as if she were still here in my arms and not in there, where I can’t reach her.
I sit in my Camaro watching the rain, waiting for her to run out and tell me this is all a nightmare, but I saw in her eyes the determination to live. To heal.
And I love her too much to hold her back from it, which is why I left the moment she fell asleep in my arms. Even if my heart shattered into tiny pieces with each step.
I’ll accept her choice, even if it kills me.
I’d rather drown in my pain, let it blur the world, before letting her hurt more than she already has.
Even though I know she needs this, I can’t help but want to go in there and fall onto my knees to beg for her to choose me.
To stay with me.
To love me.
However, that would be cruel, and selfish is the only thing I can't be when it comes to her. Not anymore. Not at the expense of her. The storm rages harder, wind slamming into the side of the Camaro, shaking it slightly from the force. It’s like the saying goes, ‘if you love something you gotta set it free,’ and accepting her choice is me doing just that.
Even if it kills me. I know for certain that if I stay, I’ll keep hurting her even if I don’t mean to.
If I leave, she might actually heal. In the end, that’s all I want for her.
For her to blossom, even if I’m not the one watering her.
I thought I knew what love was because I felt it for her.
For years, I waited, wanting and hoping.
But nothing touches the truth of it. For the first time since the basement, I finally understand what love demands of me.
It’s not possession, not proximity, not promises, but sacrifice.
I let my forehead fall onto my steering wheel, whispering softly into the storm that soothes me.
“I’ll let you go, baby… even if it kills me.” Rain thunders louder on the hood, and the sky continues to grieve alongside me. “I hope you find yourself. Fly high, my little butterfly.” My voice is tightening until it breaks from the pain breaking through. “Even if I’m not there to see it.”