31. Ellie #2
All I can do is stare at him. "But why?" I ask, shaking my head. "How could you just go back to the way things were if you thought I felt that way? If I wrote the horrible things in that letter?"
He tilts his head slightly, his confusion more plain to me than any words he could ever sign. Because it was true, at least what you said about me. But you were always too good for us. If you finally found something better, I wasn't going to be the one to stop you.
His words make that last intact shard within me shatter into a million little pieces.
Somehow, those words hurt more than anything Kade or the others have ever said or done. Even more than if he called me a liar to my face and walked out because he refused to believe me.
"Tank…" My voice cracks on his name and I reach out, taking his hand and gripping it as hard as I can, which probably doesn't even register to him.
"Listen to me. There is no better out there.
Not for me. The time we all had together in the park, even when the rest of our lives were a mess, even when we were so broke we had to share a fucking candy bar…
those were the best days of my entire life.
Every night since I left, those moments are what kept me going. The four of you."
He's still staring.
"All of us hanging out in that shitty little RV in the woods was my happy place," I say hoarsely. "The one place in this world I ever felt really, truly safe. And it was because I had you. Because I had my boys. Because I loved you."
His eyes widen slightly.
Oops.
Guess the words just came tumbling out.
But I wanted all the cards on the table, so… this one should be there as well. It's the one everything else is built on anyway, the one truth I've run from for far too long.
But Ellie… you deserve better. His signs are more emphatic now. We're all fucked up. Jinx is the only one who isn't a complete psychopath.
"That's debatable," I say dryly, folding my arms.
He snorts, but his signs still come fast and choppy, so I know this is something that's been building for a while. Somehow, it's like finding out I didn't write that letter has shaken him more than reading it did in the first place.
No one could ever be good enough for you. But out of all of us… I'm the worst. His eyes soften and his shoulders sink. You can't love me, Ellie. No one ever could.
"That's bullshit," I say, my heartbeat ticking up a notch.
You don't even know what I look like. He gestures to his face, pain and self-loathing plain above the mask. If you knew the truth…
"What?" I challenge. "You think I'd reject you? You really think I'm that shallow?"
No. Never. But there's shallow and then there's… He pauses, gesturing to his face again, his gaze sliding to the floor. This.
"Tank…" I take a step closer, reaching out. He flinches when I cradle my hands on either side of his face, my fingers resting against the soft, worn leather of his mask. "Let me see you. All of you. Let me prove you're wrong."
He shakes his head emphatically, and I realize this isn't just about shame for him.
He's fucking terrified.
And at this instant, I suddenly understand his reaction to what I told him about that letter perfectly.
The others might have been devastated when they read it, but Tank wasn't. Not because he didn't care, but because he was already so sure from the beginning I'd never want him.
For them, the letter was an end to something. For him, it was just confirmation of what he always knew.
The cruelest part about that letter is that whoever wrote it somehow managed to echo what he already thinks about himself.
"Please," I whisper, running my fingers gently along the line of his mask. "Please, just let me see you. Let me in."
I can tell he's going to say no. He's going to pull away and shut down and keep the mask in place like it's been for as long as I've known him, and even before then. But then, his shoulders drop and his eyes go dark.
Okay, he signs, defeated. You deserve to know.
My heart sinks as I realize he's just giving in. Accepting what he thinks is inevitable and has been all this time.
But that only hardens my resolve.
I slip my fingers into his hair gently. His eyes fall shut and he leans into my touch with a quiet sigh. My heart breaks all over again when I realize he's letting himself enjoy this moment because he thinks it will be the last time I will ever want to touch him.
The last time I'll want him.
I just have to prove him wrong.
Slowly but surely, my fingers find the buckles. His breath hitches slightly, and his whole body tenses at my touch. I give him a second to change his mind, but he doesn't push me away.
The silence here feels so heavy all of a sudden, the only light coming through the slats in the blinds over the window and from above the stove. All I hear is his soft, shallow, anxious breathing and my own nervous heart going crazy in my ears.
My hands shake as I start working on the buckles. All I can do is hope he doesn't notice they're trembling.
It's not because whatever is waiting under that mask will change the way I feel about him.
That isn't possible.
But I'm terrified I'm going to react wrong and confirm whatever horrible things his brain has conjured up about this very moment.
No pressure, right?
I hold my breath and count to five.
The mask falls away.