Chapter 33
NATE (SENIOR YEAR, HIGH SCHOOL)
Ican physically feel my heart crack in half when I finally make eye contact with Ellie.
The look on her face has my head screaming at me to abort the mission.
To take her in my arms and kiss away the pain in her eyes.
It feels like I’m barreling down the highest point of a rollercoaster and my seat belt just came undone.
My stomach plunges, and my chest gets that uncomfortable prickly feeling.
I have the overwhelming urge to drop to my knees while clutching my heart, as if that will temper the excruciating pain I am feeling all the way to my bones.
I take a deep breath, and I shove down my feelings the best I can.
I’m doing this for Ellie. I need to protect her from Chris.
I mask my face, widening my eyes so that I appear shocked to see her.
I let her believe that I think she caught me.
As if I didn’t remember the love of my life was going to be at my house at six.
Dressed in a beautiful red gown that she loves so much.
A gown that has nothing on the beautiful girl wearing it.
God, what I wouldn’t do to be able to kiss her one last time.
She turns around and runs out through my bedroom door.
The sound she makes is primal. I get a glimpse of her as she turns the corner toward the winding staircase.
I see the way her face crumples. She is going to break, and she doesn’t want me to see.
Her face is the picture of complete devastation.
Raw, unfiltered pain haunts those beautiful green eyes that I love so much.
I did that.
I put that look on her face.
I feel like I’m going to throw up. I fight the urge to run after her. This needs to happen. I need her to be hurt. I need her to forget me.
For now.
I am coming back for you, Ellie. I will crawl on my knees in front of you and beg you for forgiveness.
Forgiveness for not finding another way.
For getting involved in her life, only to have to hurt her in the end. But it’s not the end. This is not the end of us. This is just a bump in the road. I have to believe this, because if I don’t, if I truly thought we were over, then I’ve lost the one thing I have to live for.
“Well, that was entertaining, but how about I find other ways to entertain you now.” Chelsea’s low throaty tone barely cuts through the fog. I can’t move or think. I can hardly keep myself upright.
I just stand there in a catatonic stupor, staring at the door Ellie just ran through. Willing her to come back. Willing her not to believe any of this is real. Willing her to force me to have to come up with another plan.
I just stand there.
I stand there as Chelsea untucks the towel from around my waist, letting it drop to the floor.
I stand there as she lowers to her knees, looking up at me through her lashes.
I stand there as her delicate fingers stroke my cock from root to tip.
I stand there as she leans forward, opening her mouth and letting her tongue tease the tip.
I stand there as her warm mouth wraps around my cock and she sucks me into the back of her throat.
I’m not hard.
I’m not even present.
That doesn’t stop her from moaning against my flaccid dick, the vibration waking me from my stupor.
I tear my cock out of her mouth and grab my towel, wrapping it around my waist. “Get the fuck off of me,” I seethe.
How fucking dare she. There is no way she just didn’t see the state I was in.
I was hardly even conscious! She thinks she has the right to put her mouth on a part of me that isn’t hers.
A part of me that belongs to someone else.
I don’t give a flying fuck if I kissed her first. I don’t give two shits about how unfair that is.
I called her over here for one reason only.
To use her. It’s the same reason she came here.
To use me. So I don’t feel bad that I’m about to toss her out on her ass.
I don’t feel anything except the loss of Ellie.
I make a vow to myself, right here, that I will never let another woman touch me. I will never touch another woman. Every piece of me belongs to Ellie, and Ellie only.
“Get the fuck out of my house.”
“What the fuck, Nate?” she complains. “Do you even know how many guys would kill to have me suck their dick?!”
“So go suck them off then, we’re done here.
” I grab her elbow and lead her to my bedroom door.
I shove her clothes in her hands and slam the door shut as soon as I get her over the threshold.
I don’t miss Emmy standing at the end of the hallway glaring at me.
She loves Ellie like a sister, so I know she hates me right now.
I’ll explain it to her later, but right now I need to get lost in my head.
I need to not feel anything, to not have to think.
I walk back to my bathroom and grab the bottle of vodka that I left on the sink when Ellie arrived. I twist the cap off and toss it in the small trashcan in the corner of the bathroom.
I won’t be needing that.
I step into the shower and lean my back against the wall, sliding down to the cool, porcelain tile.
It’s still wet from when I turned the water on earlier, but I don’t care as the water seeps through my towel, causing a chill to sweep over my body.
I bring the bottle of vodka to my mouth, tip it back, and chug.
I keep chugging until half of the contents are in my stomach.
My vision starts to blur, and my head feels fuzzy.
I’m almost there, almost at the right amount of drunk.
I just need tonight. One night that I don’t have to let this hurt me, to let the pain consume me.
I must have fallen asleep, because what feels like only minutes later, my crusty eyes break apart. The sun has already set, and my room is pitch black. I pull myself up from the shower floor, slipping a little on the water under my feet.
I drop my towel and walk naked to my bed. I feel sick to my stomach. I guess I slept through the “right amount of drunk” and now I just feel awful.
My phone is still plugged into the wall beside my bed, so I grab it, desperately hoping to see a message from Ellie.
I don’t know why. If she doesn’t fall for the show I put on, then she gets hurt.
If I tell her the truth, she’ll get hurt.
Ellie won’t let me live under my father’s thumb.
She’ll involve herself, she’ll intervene, and then she will be on Nathaniel’s radar.
I’d rather live the rest of my life feeling this indescribable pain without her than have her get hurt.
Still, I unlock my phone with a healthy amount of hope. I have five missed messages, so I swipe on the green app to open them.
Emmy: What. Did. You. Do.
Emmy: I never thought I’d say this, big brother, but I hate you right now!
Emmy: You better have a really good explanation for why I saw Ellie running out of here in tears.
Emmy: You’re a dick. A big stupid dickhead.
Nathaniel: Well done, son.
Son. The only time he calls me that is when I do something he is proud of. Which is usually something I’m ashamed of.
I throw my phone across the room, somehow missing every piece of furniture I have, effectively avoiding the destruction I’m craving.
I get up from my bed, swaying a little, and head back to the bathroom.
I grab the half-empty bottle of vodka, stopping for my phone before plopping back down on my bed.
The room is spinning, but I don’t care. I take another swig and welcome the burn as it reaches my throat.
I know I shouldn’t do this. I know this could destroy everything I tried to accomplish tonight.
But I am far too drunk and in too much pain to stop myself.
Nate: I’m so sorry, baby. I’ll never stop loving you.
I scroll to the top of the text and click on Ellie’s name. Once I’m on the right screen, I scroll to the bottom, my finger hovering above the button I need to press. The button I have no choice but to press.
I close my eyes as my thumb makes contact.
Block caller.
It’s done. It’s officially over.
These next two years need to go by fast, otherwise I won’t be here to meet her at the end of them.
With that thought, I polish off the bottle of vodka and pass out.
Ellie (sophomore year, high school)
I wake up in my car several hours later. My throat is raw, my eyes are swollen, my heart is shattered. I stretch my neck to each shoulder, trying to work out the kink that developed in my sleep.
Sleep.
As though I willingly laid my head down and took a nap instead of crying to the point of exhaustion. As if I went out for a joy-ride rather than sped away from the worst pain I’ve ever felt.
My mind didn’t sleep. My brain stayed active, reminding me of all the love I’ve felt over the last nine months.
Reminding me of the way it felt to be kissed, held, and cared for by the love of my life.
All of that was stripped away in a second.
The love. Safety. Protection. I am left with nothing but my broken, bleeding heart.
The despair I feel is hollowing, cutting so deep I can feel it in my bones.
I want to scream. I want to beg. Beg him to take me back.
Beg him to love me the way I love him. Beg him to make it stop hurting.
I don’t care how pathetic that would make me.
Every part of me wants to go back to Nate’s house and get on my knees, begging him to want me again.
“Oh God.” I hiccup. “It hurts. It’s hurts so fucking bad.
” I cry out to no one. To anyone. To God, maybe.
“Please…please…please…” I don’t even know what I’m asking for.
What I’m begging for. I just drop my forehead to my steering wheel and repeat it over and over again.
Tears burn as they fall from my swollen eyes.
They trail down my cheeks, landing on my raw upper lip.
Lips that are swollen and chaffed from the salty fluid that won’t let up.