29. Mutually Assured Destruction #2
His insinuation slingshots bile up my throat and burns my stomach. “I did my research. If Buford isn’t guilty, then you won’t get disqualified.”
“The damage will have already been done,” he concludes, spitting metaphorical gunfire my way and not caring for the sharpness of his words or the slabs of skin they wound on their way out.
“I thought I mattered to you. Are you really choosing your moral high ground over everything we’ve built together? ”
“It’s not personal, Sutton.”
“Bullshit. Of course it is. The fact that you can’t see how badly this will ruin everything is astounding.”
There’s no use in trying to remain cordial. I explode back at him, staring at the man who doesn’t have the decency to snuff out the match I’m still holding between my fingers—the fleeting and fast-burning representation of our love.
“What about me, huh? You’re choosing your teammates over me! I thought we were in this together. Did all those vulnerable moments we shared together mean nothing to you? I told you about my sister, I let you meet my brother. I don’t do those things with just anyone.”
“They meant everything to me, and that’s why this hurts so much.”
Sutton drags a vexed breath through his teeth, exerting every muscle in his face to frown. Narrowed eyes, set jaw, the all-consuming air of distrust that reminds me I’ve only known this man for a couple months. Not only that, but I’ve confided my deepest, darkest secrets to him.
I don’t recognize the person standing before me. How could he turn a blind eye to Buford Montgomery, of all people? Showing up to protest with me—was that all just some performative activism?
Sutton is a good person who does the right thing.
I’m a bad person pretending to be good. If I was looking for a surefire way to end this relationship, I found one without having to lift a finger.
This is bigger than both of us, and yet I didn’t hesitate to sacrifice the trust it’s taken so long for us to build together.
“Do you know how hard the Mustangs have worked to get here? I’ve seen my brothers get put through the goddamn wringer for months on end.
We’ve sacrificed blood, sweat, and tears.
I’ve put my body through hell to keep up with Coach’s strict regimen.
And all of that will be for nothing if you go through with this. ”
“You were the one who said people should take more accountability. Where’s that Sutton?” I bark, grief shortening my cadence.
“I can’t believe you’d betray me like this,” he scoffs, his voice cutting too close, lightning strobing in his eyes and thunder rumbling deep in the base of his throat.
“It’s not about you!”
“It’s not about you either!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I exclaim, finally stockpiling the courage to forge my voice into a weapon. I’m at the point where all I want to do is hurt him like he’s hurt me, and that’s a juvenile way of resolving a conflict.
“This need to do the right thing? It’s not because you actually want to help people. It’s because you want to absolve yourself from the shit you did in your past,” Sutton snarls, practically digging his finger into the figurative, bloody gashes on my body that only exist because he put them there.
Time doesn’t plateau as expected. It rolls on an endless loop, distorting the outside world, trapping us in a high-security prison.
I stumble backwards, only for him to push forwards. The truth I’ve tried so hard to ignore weighs down my shoulders like snowdrifts. “No. That’s…”
“Oh, so now you’re going to lie to me? Lake, you’re a walking open wound.”
Never in a million years would I imagine Sutton saying these awful things to me.
I should surrender, but all I do is double down. I’m in survival mode. I’m not thinking about rebuilding bridges; I’m thinking about running away as far as I can from the problem before it catches up to me.
“Out of all the people in the world, I thought you loved me for all my parts. But you’re just like everybody else, making me feel like my baggage is too heavy to be loved—which tells me that you never loved me to begin with.”
Sutton’s body language shifts from defensive to dejected, shoulders slouched. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“That’s exactly how you meant it.”
For a split second, his fury gets trampled beneath irremediable pain. The quiver in his voice wasn’t there before, nor was the glossy shine over his eyes. The tension in his upper body deflates, and he’s no longer this large, threatening fixture standing between me and my integrity.
“You’re asking me to put my second family in jeopardy.”
“I thought I was a part of that family too,” I sob, wanting more than anything to reach out and graze his arm, to hold his hand—to remind him that we were good together before tonight.
I don’t want all of this to be over. I want to take it all back. I turned a good man into a resentful one, and that’s a process that can’t be reversed.
All this time, I desperately believed in a fairy tale that fell apart like kinetic sand in my hands.
A fairy tale advertised as being simultaneously obtainable and unbreakable.
I should’ve known that love, like every other romantic feeling in this world, was just some concept made up by society to sweeten the dull, metallic taste of life.
A frown slides over Sutton’s lips, and he injects some space between us—for his sake or mine, I’m not sure. “You are!”
“It sure doesn’t feel like it.”
I jerk sideways to begin walking toward the door—not sure where I’ll go, but anywhere is better than here—before my trek is obstructed by Sutton’s broad frame. Trying to outmaneuver him seems fruitless.
I force myself to look up at him, my vision bleary, tears cooling on my scalding cheeks as regret climbs up the rungs of my spine.
The din of noise around me stills. No concerning humming coming from the invisible pipes, no muffled noises from our neighbors seeping through the walls, no nocturnal orchestra coming from the unseen creatures in the purlieu that cocoons this hotel.
I nearly trip over my feet when I slip past him and careen toward the door, my mind already sinking beneath waves of overstimulation. I realize that running is cowardly, but that’s what I’m best at, right? Abandoning my responsibilities when things get hard.
“I-I should go. I can’t be here right now,” I tell him, scrambling for the door handle, not even bothering to look back at the aftermath of my destruction.
His voice trails after me—heartache braided into each word—and I can sense that he’s hot on my tail with the way his figure displaces the muggy air behind me. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave. Please don’t leave me.”
I slam the door shut before he can grab my arm or pull me into his chest. And then I run. Directionless. Mindless. I sprint and don’t look back, not even when the tears begin their merciless reign yet again, determined to bring me to my knees.
A broken heart doesn’t have an immediate fix button. If it did, far more couples would still be together. Love endures until each party decides to make amends with one another, and deep down, I have to have faith that Sutton’s and my love will linger even long after we’re gone.
For now, I just need it to linger for the night.