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“We can’t go there, Sunday,” he spits out at me.
“Why not? We’re clearly still attracted to each other. I want to get to know you again, is that such a crime?” Even with rage turning his eyes to balls of fire, he looks incredible.
“You really think it’s a good idea?”
“I see no issue in it. We’re both adults, right?” I try to come off neutral but fail to hide the bite in my words.
“Yeah, but I don’t sleep around, Sunday. I don’t do one-night stands, you know that.”
“Then don’t make it a one-night stand.”
“I don’t want to be a toy either.” His voice wobbles slightly, and it guts me.
“I wouldn’t—” I huff, frustrated at the messy conversation. “Why would you think I’d do that to you?”
His composure snaps. Bellamy raises his hands, and I think he’s about to push me, but instead he narrows his eyes. Maybe I’ve had more to drink than I think, because I feel a phantom shove anyway. My balance teeters, and I take a step to steady myself.
“You broke up with me!” he says roughly, his voice breaking around the words. “My heart didn’t just break, Sunday. You shattered it.”
I force myself to look at him. Force myself to see the tears in his eyes and the heaving of his chest. There’s not much of a breeze, but his hair ruffles slightly anyway.
The last time we faced each other like this, he misunderstood when I’d asked if his foster mom was home. He tried to take his shirt off, and I had to stop him and say those four awful words. We need to talk.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Bels,” I croak.
His laughter is bitter with disbelief. “Didn’t you? Is that why you told me I was fucking crazy and needed to see a doctor?”
I told him he needed help; I didn’t call him crazy. My temper flares, that alien feeling from earlier rearing its ugly head again, and a scalding pain spreads through my skull.
“Maybe I’m the crazy one because I never even got over you!” I growl, stepping up to him, toe to toe.
He barely even registers my admission, his simmering anger painting his face crimson. “Well, I fucking did, Sunday. I got married. I moved on with my life.”
“And look how the fuck that worked out!” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth.
He recoils like he’s been slapped, his eyes immediately spilling over with tears. His pain is a palpable thing, radiating into me. I reach for him, but he reels back.
“No.”
“Bels, I’m sorry, I—”
“I will not water myself down to make myself digestible for anyone. Not anymore.” The fire in his eyes sputters. “You can choke on it.”
He turns away from me, tears rolling down his cheeks that I’m desperate to wipe away, but I’ve screwed my opportunity to comfort him.
Throwing open the back door of the club, I bulldoze my way inside. I turn my head over my shoulder with the naive hope that he might follow me, but all I get is goose bumps breaking out across my skin.
Chapter Sixteen
Bellamy
Ithrow my head back, sucking in a shuddering breath as soon as Sunday’s back in the club, trying desperately to make the tears roll back into my eyes. I clamp my hands on my hips and walk, my thoughts churning.
It freaked me out when he put his hand down my pants, because I’d wanted it, just for a second. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to do stupid, dirty, irresponsible things with that man. I wanted to remember what it was like to be his.
And then he reminded me exactly why I shouldn’t go there. Reminded me that he is still capable of hurting me.
My feet carry me away from the thumping music and farther down the alleyway, trying to find some fleeting relief from the ache in my chest. I swipe angrily at my face, annoyed at myself for crying again. It feels like it’s all I’ve done for the last few months. All I’m capable of.
