Page 125 of Run to Me

Stop this. Please. I can’t speak. Can’t breathe. Can’t move. All I can do is silently beg for someone—anyone—to end this nightmare before it ends me.

44

MAISY

I refuse to let him crawl inside his mind and hide from this. As much as I want to hold him, comfort him, and guide him safely through this rip in our reality, I can’t. He has to face the mirror, once and for all, and accept that he needs help. Despite my heart crumbling from the possibility I’m nothing but an infatuation of his after all, I push him harder.

“Tell me what you said to Logan that day, Jensen. Repeat the words to my face.”

His expression is wretched, the lines carved deep with pain. “I can’t.”

“Say it. Man up and own your shit. He asked you, ‘What’s up with you and Maisy?’ And your answer?”

“I can’t do this!” he yells.

“Say it!”

A guttural, wounded noise tears through his chest like he’s being clawed apart by the memory. “Fine! I said, ‘I don’t know, man. Your sister’s crazy. I think she’s obsessed with me.’”

“Obsessed.” The word thrums in the silent air surrounding us. Air filled with the combined scents of Jensen’s cologne, stale makeup, and the perfume I got for my fourteenth birthday, which sits on the dresser behind me. I spread my arms and say, “Look around us. This isn’t normal.”

“I’m not normal!” he shouts, jamming fingers against his temple. “I’m fucked in the head! You know this, and you’re the only person who makes it all make sense.”

“That’s a lot of pressure to put on me, Jensen. You really need⁠—”

“Don’t say it.” He steps forward and points at my face in warning. “Don’t you dare fucking say it. The only thing I need is you.”

“That can’t be true. Look at this!” I gesture around the room again, trying not to look too closely at all of my childhood belongings. I don’t want to believe this is real.

“This only happened because you were away from me. I needed you close. Things never would’ve gone this far if you hadn’t broken your promise.”

“Do not try to make this my fault.”

“You fucking left me!” His voice booms, hands clutching at his shirt, like he might rip it from his body.

When I step back, his face crumples with instant regret at whatever expression he sees on mine. Shoving all ten fingers in his hair, he drops his head and sucks in deep breaths, fighting to summon the calm.

My heart’s racing. Not from fear of him—he won’t hurt me—but from watching him crack and splinter, unsure if I should save him this time or not. Honestly, I don’t know if I can save him anymore.

After a long minute of his labored breathing, he rasps, “You left me, birdie. I had already lost so much. My parents. Logan. The chance to play college football. I picked myself up after every loss because I knew I still had you, my heart.” He shakes his head. “But losing you...I went off the rails, Maisy. Something inside me snapped and hasn’t been right since. I work so fucking hard every day to appear normal. It’s exhausting. So I created this place where I can come and let my fucked-up mind run free. Don’t fault me because I could only find peace in my memories of you.”

My voice strains when I say, “We were kids, J.”

“We were us. And then we weren’t.”

The defeat in his tired gaze cries out for my comforting embrace. We stand feet apart, lost in each other’s desperate eyes, unsure where to go from here. I know where he needs to go, but he won’t. Not without being forced. And my stomach lurches at the thought of issuing an ultimatum.

I scrub my hands down my face and sit on the bed next to the window, my shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You can tell me how to fix this. Maisy”—he falls to his knees and grips my thighs—“please. I’ll do anything to not scare you away.”

Tucking hair behind his ears, I push out a breath. “I’m scared for you, not me. And I worry I’m not healthy for you. You were doing fine before I came back into your life.”

Tears leak from the corners of his eyes. “No. It was all a lie. I faked it. I’m a mess without you holding me together.”

I cup his face in my hands, my nails grazing his beard. His eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot, encased in dark circles and deep lines. I haven’t noticed the worsening changes because I’m with him every day, but I see them now.

“Jensen, baby, look at yourself. You’re shattering.”