Twenty-Nine #2
‘Don’t.’ I don’t want to hear his apology, I can’t take it.
I don’t need it, it’s unnecessary, it’s not his fault, I know it isn’t, but, fuck, I need someone to blame, just a little, that isn’t me, so this weight on my chest lifts and I can breathe.
Besides, ‘It won’t make anything better, it won’t change this. ’
Bracing his hands against the armrests, Heath pushes himself upright with a sad little sigh. ‘Dani . . .’
‘Don’t.’ I’m panicking. I’m trapped. I scramble to the other side of the bed, except this damn bed is barely wider than my body, and there is nowhere to scramble as Heath stations himself at my bedside. ‘I mean it.’
‘Mean what, Daniela? You haven’t told me to do anything.’
‘I . . .’ Fuck. ‘Just . . .’ A warble escapes me in place of anything intelligible.
As words elude me, my bottom lip starts to tremble.
Frustration bubbles up and wells behind my eyes, and no matter how furiously I swipe the tears away, no matter how hard I press my knuckles into my eye sockets to try stem the leakage, it doesn’t fucking stop.
As pure and utter misery swallows me alive, my will gives out.
My head drops, my forehead finds a hard sternum, my fingers curl around a waistband, and I all but wail, ‘Heath.’
I blink, and he’s wrapped himself around me.
A careful hand settles along my ribcage, just beneath where my useless arm is strapped tightly to my chest in a sling, and he angles us so only my good side slumps against him.
He settles his hand on the back of my head, fingers moving in soothing strokes down my hair.
‘Shhh.’ His mouth brushes my hairline. ‘I got you. It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.’
‘No, it’s not,’ I sob, soaking his t-shirt so thoroughly, the white material turns transparent. ‘Nothing is okay.’
‘It will be. I know it feels like the end of the world—’
‘Feels like?’ I pull away, wide-eyed and gasping and distraught. ‘Heath, this is the end of the world to me. This is the end of my world. Swimming is literally all I have. It’s all I am. And now I just . . . I can’t do it anymore, and I am nothing without it.’
Firmly, Heath refutes, ‘That’s not true.’
‘The only reason anyone knows who I am is because of swimming. It’s the only reason anyone notices me. It’s why Ben liked me, it’s why you liked me.’
Heath makes a noise that’s partly a laugh, and entirely furious. ‘You can’t honestly believe that the quality of your fucking butterfly is the most important thing to me.’
Except I can. Because I do. He says it all the time, he loves to watch me swim. He loves how good I am. He wouldn’t be interested in me if I wasn’t so good, he wouldn’t even know me.
‘That’s not true,’ isn’t any more convincing the second time I hear it, no matter how valiantly it’s spat. ‘Dani, you know it isn’t.’
‘I don’t know anything, Heath. You don’t tell me anything. You, everyone, just expect me to know or to guess or—’
‘You don’t wanna hear it,’ he cuts me off sharply.
Near rabid with frustration, yet still so gentle as he presses a hand to my sternum.
‘You don’t wanna hear that I wanted you the fucking second I laid eyes on you.
You don’t wanna know that the main reason I hate Ben is because he was your boyfriend and I wasn’t. You don’t wanna know that I love you.’
Three words hit me like a punch to the fucking face. Instinctively, a no leaves my mouth.
Heath . . . buffers. Gapes at me blankly like he can’t compute my refutal. ‘No?’
‘No,’ I repeat blankly. ‘That’s . . . no.’
‘You don’t believe me? Why do you think I hate Ben so much?
Because of you, Dani. Because something about him appealed to you.
Something that I don’t have. Because two years ago, he got the girl I couldn’t stop thinking about.
And for two fucking years, I had to watch this unbelievable asshole fucking squander this unbelievable girl. ’
Frozen, I wait for it to hit me. That elation, you know. The oh my God he loves me euphoric joy.
It doesn’t come. I think it would, under any other circumstances. If I wasn’t in a hospital room, five seconds post hearing the worst fucking news of my life, I think knowing Heath Belfort loved me would make me feel pretty damn joyful. I think I might even say it back.
Instead, all that comes out of my mouth is a cold ‘Get out.’
That mouth droops, lips parting with a disbelieving noise as he gives his head a minute shake. Light brows pitch inwards ever-so-slightly. Long fingers scratch behind one ear as if he’s suddenly doubting its efficiency. ‘What?’
Louder, but no more firm, no more sure, I repeat, ‘Get. Out.’
‘I’m not going anywhere, Daniela.’
‘Why? Because you love me?’ My laugh is so bitter, it burns. ‘Wow. Great. Someone’s going to wheel me into surgery any minute now, my career is over before it’s even really started, but, fuck, who cares? No worries. A boy loves me.
‘Jesus,’ I practically scream, my free hand finding the center of his chest and shoving him as far away as he’s willing to go. ‘What is this? My consolation prize? My silver lining? Instead of devoting my life to swimming, I devote it to you?’
‘That is not—’
‘Why now? Why couldn’t you say this a month ago? Two fucking years ago? If you love me, how could you just wait? You say all the time that I deserved more, but you didn’t love me enough to make sure I got it? To give it to me?’
Vaguely, in the back of my mind, I recognize that I’m lashing out. That not everything I’m saying is entirely deserved. But . . . fuck? His timing isn’t just abysmal; it’s downright cruel.
‘Fuck you,’ I spit. I’m crying again. I bracket the base of my throat with my hand in the hope I can physically hold my sobs at bay. ‘What is wrong with you?’
For as long as I live, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on Heath’s face. I don’t think I’ll ever get over causing that level of crushed – I won’t ever forgive myself for it.
But as he backs up a step, I don’t move. He half-turns to the door, frosted gaze still locked on me, and my own eyes burn as they forget how to blink. With a low, humorless laugh, he straightens and shows me his tense, rigid back.
And even though the overwhelming sense of wrong that preceded me ending up in this room in the first place floods me once more, I don’t do a single damn thing as he walks out the door.