Chapter 8 #3
“God, no. That came out wrong, amor.” His voice breaks on the last word.
“I’m not trying to make this your fault.
Fuck—I know how this sounds. I was distracted, and I fucked up.
I fucked up so badly.” He drags in a shaky breath.
“But I would never hurt you on purpose. Never. You have to believe that.”
I stare at him, chest heaving. There it is. The crux of it. In that moment, I mattered so little to him he forgot the one thing that could have killed me.
My vision blurs. I blink hard, refusing to let the tears fall. “You know,” I whisper. “Now I can’t stop thinking you want me dead, Xavier. That you want me out of the way so you can be with the woman you’ve always loved.”
Xavier closes his eyes, tears clinging to his lashes.
“No,” he chokes out. “Please, amor, don’t say that.
I wasn’t thinking straight. I was distracted, and I fucked up, but it wasn’t because of her.
I know that doesn’t make it any better.” He opens his eyes and takes a tentative step forward.
His face is drawn, guilt etched into every line. “I’m so sorry. For all of it.”
Sorry. The word echoes in my head, and I wonder how it’s possible to feel everything and nothing at once. I’m furious. I’m devastated. I’m numb. One wrong move and I’ll come apart.
My throat works, a thousand words fighting to get out, but what emerges isn’t a shout. It’s quiet. Broken. “Was it her?”
Xavier freezes, confusion knitting his brow.
I swallow, steadying myself, and clarify in a trembling voice, “Is it because of her that you wanted to stop trying for a baby?” My heart is lodged somewhere in my throat, but I force the words out anyway.
“Was some part of you still holding on to the idea of a life with her? Thinking that if she came back, it would be easier if we didn’t—if I wasn’t—”
I can’t say it.
Pregnant. If I wasn’t pregnant with your child.
His face crumples. “No,” he whispers, horrified. “No, Yara. It was never like that. I never wanted her back. We never even—” He trails off, voice faltering. “I swear to you, that’s not why I—”
“Then why?” The question tears out of me.
I lunge at him in a wild, desperate flurry—left, right, left, right—each strike fueled by heartbreak.
“Why did the thought of a baby scare you so much? Why did you look me in the eye and tell me to give up when you knew how much I—” My voice breaks.
So do I. My punches lose all force, dissolving into useless blows against his chest.
Xavier absorbs every hit, taking the blows without fighting back until all that’s left is my hurt breaking uselessly against him. Then his arms come around me. Before I can wrench free, I’m caught against his chest, pinned there by his gloves, shaking with frustration and grief.
“I never lied about that,” he says into the top of my head.
“The thought of losing you… I can’t go through that again, Yara.
After the accident, after seeing you nearly—” His voice breaks off.
Gently—so gently—I feel him rest his chin against my hair, the way he used to when he was trying to comfort me. The familiarity of it nearly undoes me.
I jerk back, tearing myself out of his hold. “Don’t,” I rasp, swiping at the tears on my cheeks with the backs of my gloves. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. “Don’t touch me.”
His shoulders slump. Blood from the cut on his cheekbone has smeared across one glove, a dark stain against the leather.
When he finally speaks, his voice is barely audible.
“I was a coward. I am a coward. I lied about Isabel being my cousin because how the hell was I supposed to tell you I’d seen my ex on our anniversary?
” The word ex comes out twisted, like it burns on the way out.
“I told myself I’d explain everything after.
That I just had to get through the night without making it worse.
I was going to tell you, but then you found out, and I couldn’t think straight.
” His jaw tightens. “Yara, I have no excuse. None. You didn’t deserve any of it. ”
His confession hangs between us, raw and desperate. My anger and pain drain out of me, leaving me hollow and shaken.
A watery haze blurs my vision. I squeeze my eyes shut and let my arms fall limp.
The gloves slide from my hands and hit the mat with a dull thud.
The sound is soft, yet it echoes through the silent room like a hammer blow.
The fight goes out of me with it. There is nothing left in me to keep swinging.
I feel… empty. So empty I could collapse.
“You’re right. I didn’t deserve any of this.
I deserved truth. Loyalty. I deserved to be loved out loud, not in a way that forced me to shrink, doubt, and beg for scraps.
I deserved a man with enough spine to tell the truth and enough love to come after me when it mattered.
Instead, I got you. A coward in expensive clothes. A liar with perfect timing.
The second you lied to my face, Xavier, you showed me exactly what you are. You were never worthy of my love, my tears, or my pain. You proved it when you let me walk away. You proved it again when you stood there and tried to make your betrayal sound like my fault.”
A sick sound claws up my throat. I gag, the images flashing hot and vicious behind my eyes.
“My only regret,” I choke out, “is ever letting you touch me after you’d been with her.”
“No, don’t say that.”
I say nothing. There’s nothing left in me that wants to answer. Everything hurts—the love I believed in, the trust broken open at our feet.
My arm wraps over my stomach as I take another step back. I can’t do this. I can’t stand here and let him look at me like that for another second.
Xavier’s face folds with misery. “I’m sorry, amor,” he says hoarsely. It’s all he seems able to give me. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
His plea hangs in the air between us. I realize I don’t have an answer for him. Not one that involves forgiveness, hope, or tomorrow.
“Tell me what to do,” he begs. “Please. Tell me how to fix this, and I’ll do it. Anything.”
I take another step back, toward the door. My legs are unsteady, but I keep my head high. I don’t look away, even when my vision blurs.
“How do you fix this?” I repeat, almost contemplative. “You can’t. You did this, Xavier. Now you live with it.”
He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
“And if you’re so desperate,” I say, my voice hardening even as it shakes, “bleed.”
He blinks, as if he misheard me. I bite back the sob threatening to escape and elaborate. “Bleed, Xavier. And remember why.”
With the last of my resolve, I turn my back on him and walk away.