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I peg him with a glaring look, but there’s no true umph behind it. Iama bit particular. He waits at the edge of the bed until I’m done, then takes it from me and returns it to the bathroom. Now that the post-sex high is tapering off, the conversation we had comes crashing back.
Was doing this reckless, as I always am with him? Is giving this another chance the stupidest thing I’ll do next?
My eyes burn as tears leak out. In the past twenty-four hours, I’ve been drugged and cut up, hardly eaten or slept, and undergone mental strain from all this information. Not to mention the anxiety of Lorenzo going to meet his sick dad.
That’s the hardest part of it all. What if he had been killed?
My heart can't handle imagining it.
The idea of losing him hurts far worse than any of his past actions. Actions I assigned meaning to because I didn’t have all the knowledge I do now. And suddenly, the potential of ending things feels like a foreign language I never understood. Just thinking of never being wrapped in his arms, of hearing his voice, of smelling the smoke and cinnamon…
It’s not even an option.
He returns to the bed and pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around my waist. I rest my head on his chest, tracing the new tattoo over his heart. I still can’t believe he did that, and we weren’t even together. If this entire event showed me nothing else, learning that he really did always care for me is enough.
Keeping me at arms distance, refusing to put a title on things, his new numbers and old phones, it all makes sense now.
I can’t blame myself for not believing him. And I’m not sure how we proceed going forward.
As long as…
“How are you feeling?” he murmurs, searching my eyes with newfound worry.
“I feel a little weak, but I’m a bit… distracted.”
“You need to eat. We can find some food. There’s nothing here, but I’m sure there’s a place open.” He begins to shift, then abruptly stops. “You probably need to sleep more, though.”
Food is the last thing I want right now, no matter how much my body needs it. And how am I supposed to sleep when I’m back in his arms after thinking I never would be again? “I thought I lost you,” I whisper.
“You’re never going to lose me again,” he says quietly. Full ofvividpromise. “It’s all over now.”
“I’m sorry,” I rush out. “I was just scared and I didn’t know what to believe and—”
“Hey,” he says, pulling back to stare deeply into my eyes. “You don’t have to explain. I completely understand. I would understand if you still wanted nothing to do with me.”
I shake my head. “Stop. That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous. I was—”
“Itisridiculous! I thought you mightdie!I forgive you. There’s nothingtoforgive. It all makes sense now. I just didn’t—”
“Kate, please.” His voice is so demanding that I snap my mouth shut and stare at him with a deer in headlights look. “I don’t want you getting so worked up over me. I don’t want you to suffer anymore.”
“You don’t get to decide how much I suffer,” I snap. He’s so frustrating; I’m sitting here confessing my feelings and he’s trying to tell me what to do?
He chuckles. “There’s my fiery badass.”
I roll my eyes.
“I have a question for you, actually,” he says suddenly, searching my eyes earnestly. “Why didn’t you ever turn me in?”
I let out a sigh, unsure how to properly explain. “I don’t know… I was so sure you were an asshole that didn’t care about other people. And that you were using drugs. I felt so guilty, not reporting it to the police. But… I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Brad was okay. And Char said we didn’tactuallyknow what happened. Oddly, she was right.”
He shakes his head. “No matter how understandable this all is, I know I’ve done some terrible things. I lied to you. I’ve given you zero reason to trust me.”
His words are all true, and yet I can’t help that my heart wants to give him one more chance. Maybe it really all was for the greater good. He seems lighter somehow, and I’m not sure how I never saw just what a dark place he was in.
“I’m so glad you’re finally free now,” I whisper.
