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“I don’t know how to say this.” He pressed his lips together while a burn picked up in the back of my throat. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” I croaked out. Because he couldn’t be sorry for what happened between us. Absolutely no way.
He looked away, tilting his head to the side. “This is just too much.”
I blinked slowly, feeling like I missed the beginning half of this conversation. “What is?”
“This,” he stated with force, raising his hands. “All of this is too much—you and me.”
My nails were leaving little indents in my palms from how tightly I was clenching my hands. “I . . . I don’t understand.” Those words sounded weak and pathetic to my own ears, and the blood drained from my face. “What’s going on?”
“It’s too much.” He closed his eyes, features pinched and strained. “It’s too much too soon.”
“What? Us? We’re moving too fast?” He thought so because we’d had sex? That seemed wildly out of character for someone with his reputation. I got that he wanted to do things right, and last night had been right. “We can slow down if that’s what you think we need—”
“I can’t do this,” he interrupted, opening his eyes. “It’s too serious and I thought I was ready for that, but I’m not.”
He thought he wasn’t ready? What in the hell was holding him back? I knew about Jack and how it would impact a future with—it occurred to me then as I took my next breath. This wasn’t about Jack or us. This was about Jack’s mother.
“This is about her, isn’t it? You’re—”
“I’m not talking about her,” he snapped, and something cracked in my chest, a deep fissure that spread throughout, cleaving me in two as he spoke. “I don’t want anything serious. Not with Jack being so young, and I need to focus on graduating, getting a job, and helping raise Jack.”
“And none of that includes me?”
His clouded gaze met mine for an instant. “It doesn’t. It can’t. Because I can’t go through . . .” His jaw locked down as he gave a quick jerk of his head. “I’m sorry. Please know I never meant to hurt you. That’s the last thing I ever wanted. You have to believe that.”
My chest rose sharply, and it felt like he’d reached inside me and crushed my lungs into a crumpled-up wad of paper. The burn in my chest increased, building behind my eyes. I tried to calm down, but that hurting was raw and real.
“And I know I’ve hurt you and I’m so fucking sorry for that.” He glanced at me quickly, and he tensed. The crack deepened. “I’ll still pick you up for school and get you to your classes,” he rushed on as I stared at him. “So I don’t want you to worry about that.”
