Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
“It’s not about sticking up for you. You’re mine.” I thump my hand against my chest to emphasize my words.
“I’m not yours. I don’t belong to anyone!” she screams at me and takes a step closer. The heat from the argument is at odds with the chill in the night air.
“Knock it off,” I tell her. “You know what I mean.”
“This is why I can’t ...” she starts to say, but even she can’t hold on to the thin excuse.
“Quit pushing people away—quit hiding,” I beg her through clenched teeth.
“How am I the one who’s hiding?”
“You just need a reminder of who you belong to, don’t you?” I ask her and take a step forward, closing the space between us. She’s so close. So small and all I want to do is pick her ass up and show her she’s mine. I can remind her. She just needs my touch.
“You’re drunk,” Allie says in a harsh whisper and looks behind me at the door to the frat house. I watch the hollow of her throat as she swallows thickly, and something flashes in her eyes.
“Would that make it better or worse?” I ask her and imagine taking her right here, right now. “If I fucked you right there in the dirt,” I offer her.
“Dean, don’t,” she whimpers and closes her eyes, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. Like it hurt her. “Please,” she begs me and it’s like a slap in the face.
“Please what?” I ask her calmly, trying to pull my shit together. “I didn’t mean to …” Hurt her. I didn’t mean to put that look on her face.
“Allie Cat,” I speak softly, reaching up to hold her shoulders and pull her in closer, but she takes a step back. Her heels clack on the landing.
“I don’t want this,” she finally says and it’s then I see the tears. Real tears, flowing freely and she doesn’t brush them away. It stuns me for a second.
“Please, you’re drunk and this, what’s between us, it’s over.”
“Why?” I expect anger, but this feeling in my chest isn’t that. “Just tell me why. I’ll fix it.”
I swear I can fix it. I can change. For her, I will.
“You don’t commit to a goddamn thing,” she says out of nowhere. Like she finally remembered the made-up excuse she could use.
“I committed to you!” The words come out loud and leave me hollow and empty. “I love you!” I yell the words although I don’t mean to. So loud, the words burn on their way up. I fucking love her. My heartbeat slows and the anger leaves in a slow wave at the realization. It’s been a long damn time since I’ve felt loved by someone, but I know she loves me back. Whether she says it or not. Somewhere in there she does. But she doesn’t want to and that’s what’s different about us.
“Well, that was your first mistake,” she says and waits. I stand there, letting everything hit me. What I feel, what she feels. When she turns around and the rapid pace of her heels echoes through the air, I feel numb.
Not because of what she said, I knew it was coming.
It’s because even feeling all this for her and knowing I love her, and that she loves me, it’s not enough.
Even with all that being true, she won’t stay with me. And I don’t know why.
ALLISON
I don’t know why I can’t stop crying.
It’s not just little hiccups and occasional outbursts when you least expect it. It’s the violent sobs that refuse to leave. The kind of crying that hurts your chest to the point where you’re in physical pain. The kind that makes you curl up and huddle in the middle of the floor with only a throw blanket as if it will save you.
But nothing can. Because the pain is from the inside.
This isn’t me. Dean broke me. He flipped a switch somewhere deep within me and I can’t find it. I can’t flick the damn thing back to where it’s supposed to be.
There’s not a part left remaining of the girl I set out to be. This isn’t what I planned.
Right now, all I want is him. I want to take it all back.
I want to be someone else. It’s not fair that these are the cards I was dealt. Or maybe I’m just an idiot for how I played them.
I pull the blue plaid throw tighter around my shoulders as a shiver runs through me. There’s a pile of used tissues next to me and I hate them. They’re evidence that I’m losing myself. Or maybe I’ve just been hiding all along.
The thought makes my spine prickle with yet another freezing bite.
It’s cold.
Loneliness is cold.
Regret is even colder.
As I sit in the empty house, eerily quiet and waiting for the next bout of bullshit tears to consume me, I try to think of which part of all this I regret the most. Or maybe, a more difficult question to answer: at what point did I start to feel regret?