AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I can’t.
I won’t.
This is too dangerous. He’s my weakness, and I should know better.
“Anna?”
He calls, but I keep walking and don’t look back. I keep my eyes set on the path in front and take the scenic route back home, giving me time to steady myself because I’m shaking. Every fibre of my body shakes with nervous energy, fear, and the need to feel the way he used to make me feel — utterly loved.
After each interaction with him, the need to reach out and tell Mum has been at the surface. She’s been my confidant and my best friend through everything over the last few years. But I haven’t told her that he’s back. It’s my secret, my news that I can keep playing around with in my own head until I’m ready.
Once I tell her, it will shift everything, and I’ll be back under a microscope.
Through rehab and counselling and writing every aspect of myself down onto paper, I didn’t get to keep any personal thoughts just for me. They all became someone else’s to pick over and analyse. Sharing was what was and still is expected in meetings.
But I don’t want to share Jeremy with anyone. That’s always been the case and now is no different, despite how bad I know he can be.
The distraction of Jeremy has meant I’ve ignored the problem with Reece, and I’ve still not spoken to him. But after the showdown with Jeremy, I can’t put it off any longer, and I invite him over.
It will give me the opportunity to try and push things one way or the other like Sammy suggested, only I’m more confused about which way.
With only a look from Jeremy, I crave his touch and his attention.
There’s nothing like that with Reece.
I’m in the kitchen putting away a few dishes when I hear the door close. The fact that he still considers it okay to use his key just sets me off in the wrong direction. But I take a breath and try to rise above it.
“I’m in the kitchen,” I call.
“Hey.” He appears and leans on the door jam.
“Ooh, what are you making?”
“Actually, I’m not cooking. I’m clearing away.”
“I thought you invited me over?” He stands a little straighter and looks confused.
“Did talk suddenly become code for dinner? After everything that’s been going on between us, I thought that would be the priority.” I whip the cloth down by my side so the fabric snaps the air around it and wait for his response.
“Fine. Okay. I’m sorry. Crossed wires.”
“No shit.”
“Look, you’ve been in a bad mood for days. This isn’t all on me,” he starts.
“Fine. Okay. Where do you see this,” I point between us, “going?” I cross my arms and wait.
“Honestly,” he crosses his arms like mine, “I thought we’d be closer by now. You seem to blow hot and cold and clearly have a problem with your own space. We don’t share with each other, like that friend you ran into. I don’t know anything about you.”
“That’s never been a problem before,” I say in defence.
“Well, maybe it is when you’ve been seeing that person for more than a few months.”
“Okay. And what about you using my space as yours?”
“I thought we were in a relationship where things like that get a little blurred after months together. Sorry for assuming. If you cared to share more than simply what you wanted for dinner and how your day was, maybe I’d have some clues to work with.”
He’s right. Which just pisses me off more. I don’t share, but I have a good reason for that. But maybe this is the make or break.
