25. No more I love yous
Chapter 25
No more I love yous
TOMER
A fter swatting my hands off her cheeks, she bolts to her feet. “No. You don’t get to say that now. Not after what I went through. Not after what you did to me. Too little and too damn late. I don’t want your bullshit I love yous .”
By the time she’s done eviscerating me, I’ve joined her on shaky legs, only for her words to smack me a step backward.
I knew I’d lose her over this.
I expected her fury and tears.
I knew I’d forever be unredeemable in her eyes.
All of those things I was prepared for. And more.
But this ?
I never expected her to reject the simplest of truths—my love for her.
Despite never verbalizing it, I was sure she knew. How could she not ? My world revolves around her.
She’s . . . everything.
Through the mounting tumult, a memory of when we were first dating crops up in the corner of my mind. Our first night in the voyeur room at Bask. She needed me to say the words. To verbally commit to being exclusive to her. I thought my actions spoke loud enough. Her needing to hear the words didn’t make sense then. And it doesn’t make sense now. Especially since I am giving her the words. But she doesn’t believe me.
Do they matter, or don’t they? How can she have it both ways?
Fucking hell. People will never make sense to me. Some things never change.
If her next words are anything to go by, my expression must broadcast my confusion in vivid color.
She puts her hands on her hips and skewers me with her sharp glare. “I recognize that expression.” Raising her pointer finger, she draws a quick circle, gesturing at my face. “Normally, I’d explain my reaction. Unfortunately for you, my give a fuck candle has done been snuffed out. Regardless of what my perpetually forgiving doormat tendencies demand of me, I cannot find the grace inside me to be kind to you anymore. Figure it out your own damn self.”
Without another word, she scurries around me, harrumphing as she goes. “I love you. Unbelievable.” After scooping up her duffel bag, she stomps her foot and grumbles, “How dare he say that now, of all times.”
I stand there, dumbstruck and speechless.
The sobering reality of the situation allows me to gather my composure, halting my pathetic attempts to beg her for something I don’t deserve—her forgiveness.
The idea of her leaving without believing I love her is pure agony. It might as well be spikes in my nail beds. How can I convince her?
It doesn’t matter, boy. Your feelings are worthless. You are worthless.
The sound of rustling behind me catches my attention, and I turn to find her roughly shoving in handfuls of clothes, one after the other. My mouth opens and closes as I bumble for the words.
Stomping into the closet, she snatches down her sundresses and skirts. I hear her mumbling in annoyance over the snap and click of the hangers.
Each garment she stuffs in the bag brings her closer to walking out the door. And out of my life.
She’s better off without you.
When she barrels out of the closet, rounding toward the bathroom, I plant myself in her path with my palms facing outward. A rush of hysteria strikes every cell of my body at once. I don’t know what to say or do. I’m operating at a total loss here.
And Lettie has no patience for my ineptitude.
“What?” she snaps.
“I. Fucking. Love. You.”
Without missing a beat, she retorts, “And. I. Don’t. Fucking. Care.” Her nostrils flare, and her teeth grind audibly. “Even if it mattered—which it doesn’t—I can’t believe you. You lie like a no-legged dog.”
My heartbeat slows, chest freezing over. “Violet, you can believe this. I do love you.”
Rolling her shoulders back, she holds her head high. She’s so damn strong. My opposite in every way.
She jostles the overflowing bag from one arm to another. “That sooo ain’t the friggin’ point. Might as well quit while you’re behind. It’s too dang late. I won’t be manipulated with words. Your actions have said plenty.”
“Lettie, I’m not trying to manipulate you. Hell, I already know there’s nothing I can do to make you stay. I’ve always known that.” My words falter, and my breath hitches. “I just need you to believe me when?—”
“No. Stop it.” Like she’s scolding a child, she points her index finger at me, halting my sentence in its tracks. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have let me go through life believin’ my father is dead. You wouldn’t have lied about damn near everything.”
“I didn’t lie about everything. Only what I had to.”
She slashes her hand through the air, silencing me once more. “Oh, would you give me just a small break? Don’t insult my intelligence any more than you already have. I realize I’m naive and simple compared to you, but I’m not stupid. If you expect me to believe another word you say, you don’t know dip shit from apple butter.”
The blood pumping through my veins slows, ice crystals forming inside the vessels as life without her warmth and light surrounding me creeps nearer.
The bag starts to slip from her grasp, so she hoists it up. “No sense in talkin’ about this any longer. It don’t matter no more.”
“It does matter, Violet.” Shaking my head, I throw my hands out to the sides. “You’re the only one who’s ever known me. Who’s ever cared. I don’t want you to leave me without knowing how much you mean to me. I can’t... I won’t...” My thoughts collide, making it too hard to speak. Before I become a blubbering mess again, I just shut up.
She shrugs and wipes a tear from her cheek. “Either way, you’re losing me.”
Time stands still.
“You were never really mine to lose.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Anger flashes across her features. “If I wasn’t yours, then why does it feel like my heart’s been ripped out of my chest?”
The quiver in her voice and trembling of her chin shatters me.
My gaze locks on the carpet.
Everything I do hurts her.
My truth hurts her.
My lies hurt her.
My words hurt her.
My existence hurts her.
In barely a whisper, I tell her, “You’re hurting because everyone I love suffers. That’s how you know my feelings for you are true.”
Collapsing onto the edge of the bed, I rest my head in my hands. Hiding from what I’ve done. The devastation I’ve caused for daring to love someone.
The duffel bag slips from her hand, falling to the floor with a thud. She says something, but I don’t know what. It sounds as if she’s on the other side of a wall.
A wall I erected between us with my lies.
I don’t ask what she said or look up at her. There’s no point.
She’s right. Either way, I’ve lost her.
Dejected and broken, I remain frozen while Lettie resumes packing.
I should get up. Help her. But I can barely move.
My heart, my soul, and every part of me are coated in ice.
I’d played this moment out in my mind a thousand times. I knew it would hurt. Knew it would gut me.
I fucking hate how right I was.
Despite the viscous remorse darkening my soul, a flickering flame sparks deep inside me, threatening to ignite. I smother it, refusing to give it the air it needs to catch fire.
I recognize it, though. Know it will sustain me once she’s gone.
Vengeance.
Shaking it off, I march into the bathroom to grab her medication and contact lenses. As I approach her, she’s bent over the bed, wrestling with the overflowing duffel bag. Frantically, she tries to force the contents in.
For a moment, I pause to study her.
There’s something familiar in her struggle. Not merely because it’s my Lettie, my room, or a bag I’ve seen before. That’s not what I mean. It’s not physically familiar. There’s more to it than that.
Each time she tries to close it, a piece of fabric gets stuck in the zipper. A shirt. Pant leg. Whatever. Stubborn as always, she keeps trying. After picking up the bag, she drops it a few times on the bed to settle the contents. Still the zipper won’t budge. No matter what she does, she can’t close it.
The bag is full. It’s had enough.
It isn’t ever-expanding. The fabric can only stretch so far. It has limits.
Same as her love for me.
Her heart’s capacity for forgiveness was stretched and strained. Until it ripped. Shredded.
Broken.
Blinking clear of my rumination, I reroute my steps to the closet to grab one of my bags off the top shelf.
When I return to her side, I hold out the bag. “Here, sugar bear. Use this.” My voice is flat, quiet, and monotone—the old me having taken over.
Her movements cease. Except for the tic of her jaw and the side-eye she shoots me. After a heavy pause, she juts her chin. “No, thank you. I don’t want anything from you.”
No one ever wants something from me until they need it.
“It’s just a bag.”
She bawls up her fist and pounds the inside of the duffel harder. “I said no thank you.”
I’m going to miss those fucking manners.
Then again, what won’t I miss about her?
When she resumes trying to force the bag to submit to her will, I encircle her forearm and tug gently. “Like you, Lettie, that bag has had all it can stand.”
Her eyes snap shut, and her shoulders roll forward. After dropping the bag, she catches her face in her hands and sobs. Slipping from my grasp, my offered bag falls to the bed and lands beside hers. My hands reach out as if they’re compelled to comfort her.
I stop myself. She doesn’t want that. Doesn’t want me. I’ll only make it worse. Hurt her more.
You ruin everything you touch, boy.
Taking a step backward, I force my fists to my sides.
And I stand there.
Aching to comfort her. Or myself. I resist because I’m not what she needs. And I don’t deserve her comfort anyhow.
Her sobs get louder, her shoulders shaking as she wails into her hands.
The seconds tick by. Should I get Stella or Freya? Let them be here for her?
I count to five, hoping she stops soon.
Letting her cry like this goes against every fiber of my being. All I’ve ever wanted to do is protect her. Make her happy. Safe. Take care of her. Soothe her.
That’s why I pulled into that fucking gas station.
Another three seconds.
Two more.
Fuck it.
As soon as one of my palms connects with her upper back, she spins and slams into my chest, wrapping herself around me.
Surprised she’d allow me to touch her, let alone hold her, I freeze for a split second.
Breath hitching and aching to soothe us both, I fold myself around her and close my eyes.
And I hold her while she cries.
All because of me.
“Violet, I’m so fucking sorry.” I bury my face in her hair and keep apologizing. “So sorry, baby. So sorry.”
Eventually, her sobs slow.
Her chest shakes with a few shuddery breaths before she releases me from the bear hug. When she pulls away, my soul foolishly attempts to cling to her as if it could keep her with me.
She doesn’t meet my eyes again. Wordlessly, she grabs the remaining belongings that didn’t fit in her duffel, tossing them in mine.
Once she’s zipped them closed, I grab both bags to carry them for her.
Steeling myself for the sight of her walking out of the door, I fill my lungs with a surge of air, hoping it’ll give me the strength to let her go. It dawns on me that I’m breathing in her sweetness for the last time. Sure, her scent will linger in my room for a while. In my bedsheets and on my pillow.
Eventually, it’ll dissipate. Gradually. Each minute, each hour, each day. It’ll lessen. Slowly but surely.
Until all I have are my memories of her.
And even those I don’t deserve.