50. Chapter 50
I’m wrecked.
We’ve had sex before, sure, but what we’ve done the last three days is a marathon sprint for a finish line I didn’t know existed.
Every nerve feels raw and I can’t seem to catch my breath from where I’m tangled up on Alex’s chest. My cheek pressed to his skin and my leg slung over his like my body doesn’t know where it ends and he begins anymore.
Three fucking days.
Sleeping in broken stretches. Eating when one of us remembers. Touching like it’s oxygen instead of indulgence. Not frantic, but god damn constant. Intimate in a way that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with proximity.
“What’s going on in that wonderful mind of yours?” He teases, running his fingers through my hair.
“I’m just tired. The good kind.” I whisper, tapping my finger over his heart.
He hums, the vibration rolling through my ear. “You should sleep.”
I shift just enough to look up at him, and the sight of his face punches something through my chest. His eyes are unfocused and fixed on the ceiling like he’s staring at a thought he doesn’t want to touch.
He looks exposed, and I don’t think Alex ever does exposed.
“What?” I ask, immediately wary.
His jaw tightens and I know I’m onto something. Pushing up, I place my hand on the mattress beside his shoulder to look down to him, my hair a curtain that drapes us both.
“I don’t usually let things go this far,” he admits quietly.
My brows furrow. Did he just call us ‘things’?
“Things?”
“This,” he murmurs. “Connection.”
I flinch slightly, ice water down my spine. His arm loosens from around my waist, but he doesn’t move away from me.
“Alex,” I start carefully.
He turns his head, finally looking at me and I see the words there before he spits them out.
“I love you.”
The world doesn’t just slow down, it fucking grinds to a halt. It detonates.
My chest constricts so fast it feels like my lungs forget how to work. My heartbeat spikes, slamming into my throat hard enough to hurt. Heat floods my face and then quickly vanishes to leave me cold and shaking.
“No,” I whisper.
He blinks, shocked that I’ve pushed it down. But that’s not what this has all been about. We don’t love each other. Sure, we are connected in that fucked up way that makes sense. The way two different beasts can find solace in the same dark place, but we… we don’t love each other.
“I—” my voice cracks. “No.”
I scramble backward, my body reacting before my brain catches up to break the contact between us like a bad burn. I end up half-falling off the bed, the sheets tangling around my legs as I suck in air that won’t go deep enough.
This isn’t happening.
This is not happening.
“Sadie,” he breathes, sitting up slowly. “Breathe.”
“I didn’t ask for that!” I snap, panic spilling over into anger because anger is safer. “You don’t just—say that!”
“I know, and I’m not asking you for anything.” He states evenly.
That makes it so much worse.
“No, I didn’t expect this,” I rasp, my hands shaking as I press them to my chest like I can hold myself together. “This wasn’t—this wasn’t the deal.”
“There was never a deal, Sadie.”
Exactly.
My vision tunnels and my thoughts scatter into overlapping chaos.
Love means expectations and permanence and… staying. Love means I stop being able to leave. And I hate the thought of not being able to do just that.
“I’m not—I can’t—”
“You don’t have to decide anything. I just told you the truth,” he attempts to fix. But the damage is done. Because the truth feels an awful lot like a threat in this moment.
Truth is what kept me quiet and small, and truth is what people used when they wanted something from me.
“I can’t stay,” I blurt.
He goes very still.
“You can, but you don’t have to.” He whispers.
I laugh, almost hysterical as I search for my clothes on the floor. “That’s not comforting.”
“Sadie— fuck, it’s honest. I’m just trying to be honest. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“No!” I shout. “What—no. No, I—I don’t know what I want. But it’s not that.”
His brows furrow as he looks to where I’m already shoveling shit into the duffel bag he had cleaned out when he returned from wherever he had fucking traipsed off to for days.
“What are you doing?” He rasps, shoving up from the bed.
“I’m leaving.”
He looks as if he’s the one that’s just been hit with a sledge hammer, but he doesn’t stop me.
“You said I could go,” I throw over my shoulder, my voice too loud and brittle. “So I’m going.”
“You’re panicking,” he whispers.
“No shit? You told me you love me.” I bark.
His expression doesn’t change, or he fights for it not to. “And I understand why that scares you.”
“Yeah? Because this is how people trap you without meaning to and you know it.” I choke out as I yank the shirt over my head.
“I’m not trapping you.”
“I don’t know that, and that’s the problem.” I fire back.
I yank a pair of jeans on, fingers numb and heart racing so fast I feel dizzy.
“If I stay,” I say, the words spilling out now. “I’ll start believing you. And if I believe you, I’ll stop protecting myself.”
“And if you stop protecting yourself?” He challenges.
“I get hurt. Or worse—I disappear.” I breathe.
“Sadie, Christ. That’s not what this is about. I’m not asking you to wear chains and hitch yourself to my wagon. I am just telling you how I feel.”
I scoff and storm from the room, grabbing shit that belongs to me on the way out the door.
“I won’t chase you,” he calls as I reach the front door. My chest caves in and I freeze, my hand trembling on the handle as tears burn hot behind my eyes. I don’t turn around to face him, because I can’t. If I do, I might just break down and give in.
“I’m not saying goodbye,” I whisper, barely holding it together. It’s the least I can do.
“Good, because this isn’t over.” He answers firmly.
I yank the door open and the cold air slams into me as I bolt for the car.
My legs shake as I shove everything in my arms into the backseat before I climb behind the wheel.
I don’t ask myself how he’ll get home, he has his fucking phone.
I don’t let myself ask anything as I peel backwards out of the driveway.
I sure as hell don’t look back.
If I do, I won’t leave.
And right now, leaving feels like the only way I survive.