Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
GATSBY
“ T hat’s what happens when someone breaks you into a million pieces. I might not be whole, but I don’t take shit from anyone.”
Her words resonate as I look at the closed door. The maniacal laughter as she enters her house and the words she said keep replaying like an earworm. My heart is heavy, and my chest constricts.
I almost perish when I sense her sadness, her brokenness. Those beautiful, teary hazel eyes look at me with anger but also sorrow.
What did I do?
It was me, wasn’t it? Am I the one who shattered her into a million unrecognizable pieces?
But how did I do it? I’d never hurt her. Never. I’d rather chop off my hand than do anything to hurt her. I loved her. I always protected her, didn’t I?
And what am I supposed to do? This woman is not my Little Blue.
Is she gone forever? There was a moment when I saw her, right as she was about to reach her car before she noticed me. It’s the first time I’d laid eyes on her since that night when I left her. My heart began to beat faster with every step she took toward me—well, toward her car.
She looked spectacularly beautiful. I debated between running toward her or waiting until she noticed me. I regret not doing the former. Maybe if I had reached out to her, grabbed her by the waist, twirled her around, and pressed her against me, she would’ve…kicked my ass?
Maia is too angry at me to let me touch her. I know better than to cross her boundaries. If she had just aired her grievances. This is so unlike her. Old Maia would tell me how much she hates me and why. We never let things simmer for long.
“Come out and yell at me,” I mumble, staring at the closed door.
“Maybe she’ll do it,” I say out loud.
I’ve lost my mind, and if I’m already here, I can wait for her to come out and yell at me. And so, I wait outside her house, sitting by the first step of her porch.
I comb my hair with both hands before resting my arms on top of my thighs. Fuck. This day couldn’t get any worse.
My last hope is that she’ll come out and yell at me or…I don’t know what I’m expecting.
Does she hate me because I ghosted her? I doubt it.
We were children. I was a stupid kid who couldn’t even say goodbye because I was hurting too much. I should just knock on the door and make her talk. If we let everything out in the open, we can fix it. Heal.
That’s how we used to do things when we were together. We didn’t fight much. However, when it happened, we let all our frustrations out.
She’d yell at me, I’d shout back, and then after a long volatile, yet passionate argument, we’d compromise. We loved each other too much to let a discrepancy separate us. Afterward, we’d kiss and have mind blowing makeup sex.
I remember her exhaustion after a big fight. I look back at the door, wondering if she’s bone tired and sad. I’m exhausted, and we barely got started.
I want to knock on her door to make sure she’s okay. I have an urge to hug her, press her tightly to me, and guard her while she heals from whatever happened to her.
And the emotions between us, the ones I tucked under the darkest week of my life, are finally coming out in full force—lava and ashes spewing after a volcanic eruption.
All the feelings come back to me at once.
All my love for her is out, swirling around my heart, reminding me that she’s the only person I’ve ever loved—the only one I’ll love for the rest of my life.
It’s not over.
It’ll never be over between us.
I can still feel them, the pieces of her embedded into my bones—buried down to my soul.
I let her go once, but I’m not going to do the same stupid thing again. I’m not that fearful, lost kid anymore. I have to figure out what she thinks I did and fix it.
“Driving her home against her will wasn’t too smart, asshole.”
Today was like a dumpster fire, and I’m not proud of my behavior and actions. It’s like I lost my ever-loving mind.
Do I regret calling Caspian’s agent so he could run a background check on her? Yes, but Lysander’s advice sounded good at the time. At least I reached out to someone I trust and who is reliable.
Okay, so I officially reached stalker status. I’m not proud of it, but what else was I supposed to do? I thought she was fucking with my family.
Do I feel like I’m a few steps closer to discovering why she hates me? Probably.
As a bonus, I got her address, her phone number—even her marital status. She’s single. Her house is…well, the scraped old paint on the exterior gives it…character?
It’s definitely a fixer-upper. According to the real estate website, she bought it last year.
To be honest, I wouldn’t have paid fifteen million dollars for this three-story house.
If it were mine, I would demolish it and build a brand-new house.
I’d probably buy the picturesque Queen Anne house next door and fix it too.
Who paints a house purple and green? It looks like a leftover from the set of Alice in Wonderland .
Why did she buy a big house when she’s the only one living here?
The biggest and most important question is, what the fuck happened to me today?
I’m the level-headed one in my family. I don’t act like an irrational Neanderthal.
I’m not reactive, and yet, I did so many stupid things the minute I saw her.
My brain stopped functioning. I froze, and for some stupid reason, I expected her to jump up and down with joy when she saw me.
It made sense. After all these years, we were finally together.
How gullible can I be?
There are oceans of differences between the girl I met in college and this new Maia. There are millions of miles between the two of us. We’re almost as far as the sun is to Pluto—and I’m the dwarf planet.
I close my eyes, remembering her beautiful face and that second when she crossed the glass sliding doors toward the parking lot. It reminded me of the time when I’d pick her up from a class, and we’d just look at each other and smile like two foolish people in love.
Two hours ago, I thought I would be able to speak to my best friend, my girlfriend—my Maia. Foolishly, I believed I would be able to kiss her.
I miss her mouth, her soft lips, and her taste.
If I could, I would knock on her door and just kiss her.
I want to kiss her deeply. Absorb her essence and brand her soul while I satiate the hunger—but I won’t.
I’ve never felt so damned starved in my entire life.
I’m famished.
And for some godforsaken reason, she hates me.
How am I supposed to fix what I broke?
There’s one way to win her back, and it might be by playing her game. Fight her war, and win her, even if I lose everything else.
I don’t wait long. After twenty minutes, I walk away from her house.
“I’ll be back,” I say to no one in particular. “I’ll be back.”