Page 93 of Toxic Kiss

Right.

“I need to go. Rehearsal’s about to start,” I lie.

The silence between us is telling. It’s over, but neither of us says it out loud. It only took weeks for him to decide I’m not worth the effort.

“I’ll call you when I get back, Teddy Bear. I promise.”

Click.

“Sure…whatever,” I say to the dead air.

I set my phone down and decide that I need to make a change that’s just for me. The fancy hair salon down the road seems like a good place to start.

When I embarked on this trip, control was in my grasp as much as the wheel in my hands. But in a blink, my world is crumbling. My heart is aching with old wounds and new bruises, while my head tries to sort it out, and⁠—

The worst part is…I have no idea how to fix any of it.

chapter

twenty-five

“We were never meant to fit together. But my soul still reaches for her like we were.” – Cyrus

CYRUS

My fingers strum the strings. The rough metal is as comforting as a warm hug. Closing my eyes, I hum the bars that Ledger has written, but purposely slow them down. It feels like mourning if mourning had a voice. The crying notes prick my ears, and Haven’s face appears in my mind.

Her beautiful green eyes hold my heart and my hate in equal measure, though the hate is a thing of the past. And when she smiles shyly, the words just come.

Every day gets harder to face.

I’m so sorry that I am this way.

You give your all and do it with grace.

I give you scars that you can’t erase.

My voice breaks as the things that I put her through roll through me like a horror movie with no end. Sitting in the pain, I ride the guilt like a surfer on the waves, knowing that a big one is going to come and drag me under.

Regret is a weight that holds me in place.

The man inside is the one that I hate.

I failed you, it seems every day.

I can’t understand why you’re choosing to stay.

Tears burn down the back of my throat. The words are ripped from a place deeper than I’ve ever let myself go before.

I would change if I thought it’d matter.

Can’t hang a frame when the glass has been shattered.

I act like I’m fine when inside’s a disaster.

I pray for the wick of my life to burn faster.

Tilting my head back, I stare at nothing but still see her face, tears now running in streams down her cheeks. That pain is mine. Mine that I made, mine that I craved. Mine that I needed at a cost that was too great. I pour all that suffering out in the chorus.