10. A Sinking Ship
A SINKING SHIP
LIAM
It was stupid of me to agree to this—foolish to believe I could pretend that for just one night we could put the past behind us and pretend like things never changed.
Burgers. Movies. Laughter.
There is no getting that back. Those possibilities ceased the same night that my heart did.
Left behind in a parking lot, when she walked away from me and never once looked back.
Because now, now we’re sitting in an awkward silence. She’s not even watching the TV. She’s staring off at the wall, her face ghostly white, looking nothing like the sun-kissed girl I fell in love with so long ago.
I don’t even know if that girl still exists, or if I destroyed her along with myself.
I don’t know this Aubrey Vaughn. I only see a version of her, an updated one that has surpassed me.
My mind is racing, no matter how much I beg it to slow down.
Titanic is still playing, and I’m thankful for the noise to break up the thick silence between us. A distraction from my tightening chest and overbearing thoughts. One tripping on the heels of another.
Why did she wait for me after the game? Why ask me to come in to have dinner?
WHY. WHY. WHY.
If Aubrey Vaughn could be a word, forever encroaching my senses over and over again, it would be that word: why.
Before I think any of my actions through, I stand, making my way to her bedroom door.
That’s the only thing that seems to snap her from her trance.
She blinks as I walk past. “Where are you going?” she asks quietly.
My hand is resting on the doorknob, my back to her as my head drops. And why—why do I pause, why don’t I walk out the door?
Why—that fucking word.
“I can’t do this, Aub—rey.” I almost slip, almost call her by that nickname. But I thankfully catch myself and add it on at the end. I know if she’s listening closely enough, she’ll have noticed.
I’ve come back, and I’ve faced so many of the demons I once let haunt me.
I’m proud of the progress I’ve made. I’m happy to feel like myself again.
But it’s her I can’t face—can’t tolerate being near.
I can’t endure the way she looks at me, the pity in her stare, as if I’m that bomb Brennan talked about, ready to go off at any minute—destroying myself and burying her in my rubble.
I’m okay with destroying myself—I’ve already done that. But I’ll be damned if I destroy her. She’s summer, freckles on sun-kissed skin, radiant and warm. And I’m winter, cold and lifeless.
I take a deep breath. My hand slowly twists the knob, forcing my body to leave her when all it really wants to do is stay.
I speak the words that I know will cut her the deepest, “I can’t pretend that nothing happened, that you didn’t just leave me.
” When I turn around, I wish I hadn’t. I wish I had just walked through the door, leaving her with no explanation.
But I can’t do that to her. Because then she’ll only try again…
And the thought of that—of enduring a night like this again—feels like heaven.
But when you feel like the devil, when you’re so dark and twisted, even the promise of paradise becomes torture.
So I twist the knife I’ve already planted in her back and add, “I know I was a mess…” I choke back my tears, refusing to let her see them, to know the power and emotion she still holds over me.
Not because I’m afraid of being vulnerable, but because I don’t want her to get her hopes up—to believe we can hash out the past. That we can be friends, civil toward one another.
“But you left me…that night in the parking lot, I asked you to stay, to wait...and you didn’t.” As if my words are indeed a knife, then the paleness of her skin, the loss of vibrancy in her eyes, show signs that I’ve made a killing blow.
“You left me...” Three words. That’s all it takes for her to turn, to look at me differently.
Three words—so very different from the ones my brain is screaming for me to say. But these are what she needs to hear.
They are part truth, and that is why I know they strike true.
Aubrey Vaughn did leave me that night...But I had left her long before that.
I watch through blurred eyes as Aubrey pulls her knees to her chest, looking out her window, far from meeting my murderous gaze.
Good. I think.
I don’t want to see those brown eyes, not now.
Not again.
She deserves so much more.
More than me.
More than this.
And if this is what I have to do to push her away, to get her to forget about me and continue her life. Then I’ll do it.
I’ll do anything.
I push the door open, facing the wooden grain once more as I add, “You might be over what happened between us. Might be able to ask me over and pretend like we can be friends.” I choke, “But I can’t. I’ll never forgive you for leaving me. For walking away when I needed you most.”
“I waited,” she chokes, and I spin around to look at her, to see the damage I’ve caused.
My heart drops.
I’m trying to spare her pain, trying to keep her at arm’s length instead of pulling her into the wreckage like I’ve already done before.
Aubrey’s voice starts to rise, and I know the temper I once loved so much is begging to be let out. “I waited six months after the injury for you to grieve your precious hockey like it was the love of your life. I fucking waited!” She shakes her head, her face growing red.
I know that she did. I recognize that. But I can’t let her know that, let her see how much I regret those months leading up to the overdose. If I do, if I tell her I’m sorry, if I beg for her forgiveness, then what? We forgive one another. We grow close, forced into each other’s proximity.
No.
No.
It’s better for her to hate me. To stay away.
She stands from the bed, shoving me out the door. Her face is no longer pale with shadows of the past; no, it’s red, angry, and full of emotion.
Good. I want her mad. I want her to hate me.
“I waited for you to notice! I tried to tell you over and over again. But you were so blind…” Her voice trails off, and I shove my fingers through my hair.
“What are you talking about? Notice what?” I yell back, opening my arms wide. That I was destroying her happiness along with my own? That I treated her horribly at the end?
Because I did see that. Why else would I be doing this? Saying these things?
If I were Jack, and she Rose, I would have forced myself on that door, and both of us would have drowned.
But thankfully, she saw what I was doing to her. She took control and kept herself from becoming collateral damage. I’m trying to prevent that from happening again, sparing her from climbing back onto a sinking ship.
Because that’s all I am—a sinking ship. Slowly drowning myself in pain, in regret.
Hovering at the top of the steps, I say, “The only thing I noticed...was the moment you stopped loving me—the same moment you walked away when I needed you most.” I clear my voice, forcing the words over my swelling throat.
I hear her gasp, a choked sob. Her words are but a whisper, “Did you ever stop and think about what I needed? That maybe when I needed you by my side, you weren’t there? You left me first, Liam.”
She’s right. I’d never deny that accusation.
“Why did you ask me here tonight?” I press, turning to look straight into the brown of her irises as she leans against the door frame.
“Because—” She crosses her arms over her chest.
After several long moments, she whispers, “We have to be able to work together.” She doesn’t meet my stare.
I wish her words would stop there. They don’t.
And I can’t help but cringe as she finishes, “I don’t want any animosity or anything unprofessional, like arguing in front of the team,” she explains with a deep exhale.
“I thought it might be good to get something off our chests and allow ourselves to hash out the past. I thought we could be…friends.”
There is another long silence.
Then—
“But I see now that it was a mistake. We could never—”
I start down the stairs. I don’t want to hear her finish that sentence.
I take one step.
Then two.
My back is still to her as I whisper, “Hm, for the first time in a long time...we agree.”
And why does that hurt more than any of the other bullshit things I’ve said?
“Liam—” she protests from the top of the stairs.
But I refuse to meet her gaze. “You can blame me all you want. Say that I left you. But I’ll never stop caring.
Never stop worrying about you. So, don’t ask me to apologize for trying to be cordial.
To keep an eye on you. Because I’m not sorry. Not for that.”
I open the front door. The winter air isn’t nearly as cold as my parting words: “I’m sorry, Aubrey. Sorry that I ever let myself fall in love with you. That I’ll never care for you the way you care for me.”
If those chilling words don’t kill her—like frost to a budding flower—then I’m not sure what will.
This week has been hell.
I never thought “hating” Aubrey Vaughn could be this bad. But I guess, after what I said, leaving her to believe I wish I’d never fallen in love with her, I suppose I deserve every cold word and murderous stare she sends my way.
For Aubrey’s nickname being Hearteater, I’m pretty sure that I’m the one who ripped her heart out last week and ate it...not the other way around.
I think I’m taking too much after the man who gave her that nickname, keeping people at arm’s length because you’re afraid of getting hurt—that shit is straight out of Morgan Reid’s playbook.
Sad, that I’ve stooped to his level.
My best friend and I are leaving practice the following Thursday night when I begin another venting session. Typically, I would feel bad for bringing him into my drama, but the more I talk to him, the more I’m starting to wonder if Reid knows Aubrey better than I do.
“If you had told me at the beginning of the semester that I was going to make Aubrey hate me more than she already did, I would have laughed in your face. But, no—I’m a fucking dumbass who’s trying to keep her away for her own good by making her hate my guts even more.”
Reid snorts, but I continue.