Chapter 40 Chloe
chloe
I’m in my bathroom, giving myself a little swipe of mascara. Going home after losing out on that job felt like putting salt in the wound. I wasn’t expecting it to heal little pieces of said wound.
A knock sounds at my front door, and I catch my smile in the reflection of my mirror. I smooth the pieces of hair framing my face, set the mascara down, and practically sprint to meet the man I know is on the other side of the door.
“Hi!” I fling my arms around his neck, and for the first time, he must not have been expecting it because he’s slow to wrap his arms around me.
I give him time to register that I’m here by melting into him, nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck where his scent is most prominent.
My eyes flutter closed as I take him in, and I was already feeling better, but being here, in this little spot against him, I’ve never fit better anywhere else.
“I know it was just one day, but I really missed you,” I whisper against his skin.
One of his hands finally presses to my back and I feel the weight of his head settle into me.
I pull back, just enough to hold his face between my hands, and even though it’s only been a little over twenty-four hours, he looks different. “Are you okay?” I ask, searching his eyes.
“Yeah. Just kind of cold out here.”
I step back, pushing my door open. “Sorry. Come in.”
Maverick takes his jacket off, looking around my freshly deep cleaned apartment. “It looks good in here.”
“Oh, when we got back this morning, I had a surge of energy and went on a cleaning spree. It took me like three hours, but when I was done, I felt like all the negative energy had cleared, and my mind was fully open.” I adjust a little seashell trinket dish on the coffee table before sitting down.
“I was on such a roll, I sat down and got two thousand words written in my manuscript, and then I made an appointment with my advisor.” I wave my hands in front of me to the fast rhythm in which I'm throwing out all my new information. “She said there are other professors still holding interviews for TA positions for next year, but I told her I’m thinking of a new plan.” I pause just long enough to notice the rigid way Maverick is sitting.
His blue eyes that usually glint like the top of crystal clear water appear muted, like the sun has set on them.
“Mav…” I hesitate. “What’s going on?”
I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he tries to swallow, and he looks down at his hands.
I follow his gaze to his lap, my heart rate picking up, because it wasn’t even a thought that crossed my mind that he could have gotten into another fight.
Aside from the usual callouses, his hands look just as perfect as they always do.
It takes everything in me not to ask again, and not because I don’t think something’s bothering him, but because I’ve learned he takes just a minute longer to put his thoughts to words. The longer we sit here in this defining silence, though, the more anxious I become.
“I’ve just been thinking.”
It’s such a simple sentence, and yet, the way he says it mixed with the way he won’t look at me has my intuition on high alert. My chest caves inward, and I swear the room tilts slightly.
“About?” I hear myself whisper even though my throat feels too tight to let the word out.
He drags his hand over his lips and leans forward, still not looking at me.
This is a man hasn’t been able to keep his hands off me for days.
His eyes haven’t left me in almost two months.
He hangs on my every word, and the ones he gives back to me are always laced with flirtation or something soft and sweet.
I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth, trying to steady the tremble of my lips and force back the sting building behind my eyes. It’s a lost cause because when I look at him again I know without him having to say the words.
“Are you…” My voice cracks. He squeezes his eyes shut, turning his head away like the words physically hurt him.
“Oh my God,” I huff a sound of panic. “You’re breaking up with me.”
“Chlo…” He pushes from the couch to stand, and I follow on shaky legs.
“What—What happened?” I barely manage to ask.
“Nothing happened.” He doesn’t turn to look at me and I have to fight the urge to scream. I can’t tell which way is up and which way is down, but I know one thing for certain at this moment.
“You’re scared.”
I step around him but he backs up. It’s just one small step, but I’ve never felt so much distance between us. His gaze falls to the space between our feet, unable to look me in the eyes.
“You’re scared,” I repeat, softer this time.
“I’m not—”
“You are,” I cut him off. “You love me, and after all this time, you still have this idea in your head that if I see all of you, the real you, that I’ll walk away, or that I couldn’t possibly love you.
” My breath shakes. “But I’m right here.
I’m not going anywhere.” I reach for him and my hands tremble as I cup the sides of his neck.
His skin is warm, and the stubble at his nape scrapes against my finger tips as I try to pull him in closer.
“Maverick,” I whisper, my voice cracking when he doesn’t budge.
“I love you. I’ve always seen you for exactly who you are from the very beginning.
And I love you.” I punctuate each word, despite the tear that has now broken free.
I don’t care how it makes me look. He needs someone to fight for him now, and I love him enough to fight for the both of us.
He drops his head, gripping my wrists between his hands the same way I always do to him. “I’m not scared, Chloe.”
A tight breath forces itself into my lungs. My spine locks straight, and my jaw clenches so hard I can feel it in my ears.
“I just realized this went too far. Don’t fall in love with me, remember? That was the rule.”
I swallow, taking a step back. His fingers slip from my wrist, slower than they should, and I cross my arms at my chest, trying to build up my own armor.
“You’re absolutely right.”
His eyelids fall heavy, and for a second, I swear he’s about to take it all back.
But when he looks at me again, there’s only a soft aching sadness there.
I bring my hand to my chest, desperate to relieve the burning clawing sensation happening inside, and when he drops his gaze, like it’s too painful to look at me, the clawing turns to anger.
You don’t get to be upset when you’re the one doing this.
My nose burns. One blink and the single tear stain on my face will be met with uncontrolled others. I set my jaw and throw out the only words sharp enough to hurt back. “It was all fake anyway, right?”
He tucks the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down with so much force, I’m sure he’s going to draw blood.
I can see it. I can see the back and forth he’s having with himself.
Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me this has all been a big mistake and you’re just scared. We can fix this if you let me help.
“Right.”
I feel like I’ve been hit. The corners of my vision go blurry, and a crushing weight lands on my chest. It’s holding me underwater. I can’t breathe or think. Fuck, I don’t even think I can hear properly anymore.
I stay frozen, barely breathing until his hand reaches to wipe the tears sliding down my face.
“Chlo—”
“Get out.” My voice trembles.
He bites his lip, taking a step back, but it’s not fast enough for what I need.
“I hate you!” I sob, furious with myself for how broken I sound.
“I understand,” he murmurs before turning to leave and the sight guts me even through my anger.
“I hate you!” I scream again just as he reaches the door. “And I hate myself for believing you were anything more than what everyone says you are.”
Even with his back to me, I see the way he hesitates. I wanted to hurt him and I know it did. But it’s a lie. And I hate myself for using it.
Without another word, he turns the handle and leaves. I lunge forward, too late, and smash the side of my fist against the door. Whatever has been holding me upright the last ten minutes, finally falters. I sink to my knees until I’m nothing more than a puddle on the floor.
The pressure that consumes my chest is unbearable, and after an hour of drowning, I finally close my eyes, if for no other reason than to stop the tears.