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“Thank you?”
“For taking care of that.” My voice cracks at the end and I pray he doesn’t hear it. My heart aches at how I’ve just demeaned everything that just happened. Everything I felt between us. But I won’t let him think that he’s won and that I’ll be his toy. I won’t let him hurt me again. I can’t let him know that I’ve fallen for him. He’ll only use it against me. So instead, I curl my knees into my stomach and pretend it meant nothing. I pretend I haven’t fallen in love with him.
After a moment, I feel him get off the bed and the door closes shortly after. The second the door clicks shut, I question everything. I felt so real. But I just don’t trust him.
I cry into the pillow, muffling the sound.
It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll be gone soon. I got the story. That’s all I really wanted, isn’t it? I stare blankly at the wall wishing I could trust my heart. That I could trust his words. I lie in bed, fighting the need to sleep, waiting for him to come back. He doesn’t though. He doesn’t come back for me.
Soon my eyes are heavy and I fall asleep with a cold ache in my heart.
EMMA
At some point in the late morning, I slowly roll over in the dim light, expecting to feel Luke in bed. But he’s gone. My hand runs along the sheets. They’re cold. He never came back. My heart twists in my chest and makes me feel like a fool. What did I really expect?
I gather up the courage to get out of bed. I stretch and groan, feeling how sore my body is. It’s only then that I realize I’m starving. The closed door stares back at me and I wonder if Charlotte will be here this morning.
I was prepared to leave them yesterday, but today feels different. A part of me feels grounded to them, yet still afraid of being used. I don’t understand any of what I’m feeling. It’s not black and white like words on a page, there’s so much muddled gray.
Luke’s scent is on the shirt as I slip it on and sigh with remorse. Regret clings to me in more ways than one. I’ve been using them for my story. It’s already written. I nearly sent it to the editor yesterday; I have internet so I could very easily send it even though I’m all too aware I’m not supposed to talk to anyone. So I’d rather be gone and far away from here before I submit it for publication. I don’t want to be here when it gets released.
I open up the laptop I’ve been keeping on my desk and click on my email.
A knock at my door surprises me. I startle, feeling like I’ve been caught. I close the computer and stuff it back in my bag before calling out, “Come in.”
Charlotte walks in, but the bubbly demeanor she possessed the other day is gone. She doesn’t even look at me in the eyes. “Luke wanted me to tell you that I’m here if you need anything.”
“What?” Did he leave? I don’t know what I expected, but the feeling that he’s avoiding me sits heavy in my chest.
“He’s not feeling well, so he’s going to stay away for today.” Ice chills my blood as I nod in understanding. “He said you can go out if you want.” She subtly scents the air. “Your heat’s gone and everything so, you should be fine to do whatever you want.” Her voice is laced with disappointment.
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say. I’d love to go talk to people, to get more for my story. But it feels so wrong. In my heart, I’m already gone. Already back in my empty apartment, typing away and burying myself in my work. I pick at my nails as the tension grows in the room. I’ve never felt like such a traitor, but she doesn’t know the details. She doesn’t know everything that happened so she shouldn’t judge.
“Is there anything else?” I ask when she doesn’t leave.
“Luke said you’re leaving. I don’t understand.” Her words are laced with accusation. My eyes fly to hers. Waiting for her to continue. “Do you just not feel the connection or is it on purpose?”
I part my lips, feeling as though I’ve betrayed her somehow. Which is ridiculous. “There’s more to it than that. There are more important things than a connection.”
“Like what? What’s more important than love?” She looks at me with wide, sad eyes, daring me to suggest that love isn’t the end all, be all.
“It’s not love.” She looks at me like I slapped her. I raise my voice and sit up straighter, stopping her from speaking. “It’s not love if you’re stuck with someone fate picked for you.”
“So you don’t love him?” Disbelief is written all over her face.
“I want to love him, but I don’t trust that it’s real. The way we started”—I run my fingers through my hair and force the tears back—“it’s just not going to work out. You can’t love someone who you don’t trust not to hurt you.”
“Just give him another chance.”
“You don’t understand! I gave myself to him and it meant nothing to him!” My emotions are all over the place. I can’t contain my hurt any longer.
“I’m sure?—”
“No.” I raise my voice more than I wanted. “He told me I would beg for him when I was in heat. He knew I’d have to go to him, so he didn’t even show me one ounce of respect. I deserve more than that!” The bastard tears leak down my cheeks, and they make me angry more than they do sad. “You’re lucky you don’t have a mate. You can find someone you love. You’re not stuck with whoever fate picked for you.”
“But I thought you made up? Couples fight don’t they? And he’s…he’s not the best at expressing himself sometimes. Sometimes people say things they don’t mean or?—”
“We weren’t even a couple yet. He didn’t even know me. He still doesn’t know me. How could he possibly love me?”
