Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“And like I said, I’m not playing any. Why would I be leaving? Do you want me to leave?”
He thrusts his fingers through his hair, clenching chunks in his grip. “Stop! Stop lying. Just admit you’re fucking leaving.”
“I’m not leaving! Or, at least, I wasn’t. Until five minutes ago, I had a very different agenda. But this? I’m not putting up with this. Whatever your issues are, they’re not with me.” I turn to head back to his room to get dressed when his voice echoes through the room.
“What makes him so special you’re willing to go back to him?”
I halt mid-step and turn around. “Excuse me?”
“Is it a power thing? He degrades you. Cheats on you. God knows what else, and still, you think so little of yourself, you’d go back to him?”
“How dare you,” I hiss. His mocking laughter ignites my own fury. “Who do you think you are talking to me like that?”
“What? Does the truth hurt?”
“What truth?” I snap back. “That I was cheated on? Yes. That he was horrible to me in the end? Yes. That all the men in my life have shown me I’m not good enough in one way or another? Yes.” I breath heavily, anger tightening my chest. My hands shake. “Realizing you’re no better? Yes.”
“Please. You’re great at playing the martyr—”
I storm up to him, shoving my hands into his chest. “The martyr? Are you kidding me? After everything I’ve dealt with, I’d say I’m doing the best I can. Becoming my own person. Finding happiness. Or I was—until I got involved with a judgmental, cynical asshole!”
“Seems that’s your type since you’re going back to him.”
“Fuck you.”
“Yeah. Ditto. Hope it was all worth it. Hope you’re enough for him this time around—”
I slap him. Without considering my actions, I raise my open palm and swipe it across his face. His hand lifts as he caresses the mark. I fight back tears, but they still fall. I hate giving him the satisfaction of thinking he’s won. “Why does every man in my life think they can walk all over me? Treat me with disrespect? Like I’m nothing more than gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe. Like I don’t deserve love. Like pain doesn’t affect me? Do I have ‘abuse my trust and love’ written on my forehead?”
He scoffs, throwing his hands up. “You’re not turning this around on me. I’m not the liar here. I never cheated. I never abused. I said some dumb shit when we were kids, but don’t you put me in the same category as your fucking ex.”
“Why not? My ex. My father. You. You’re all the same. It all hurts the same.” I turn and walk away.
“Great. Nice comparison,” he yells to my back. “Now your daddy issues are my fault? What’d your daddy do? He didn’t love you enough, so it’s my fault? He didn’t coddle you enough, so it’s my fault? He didn’t—”
I whip around so fast, it dizzies me. “No, he was too busy beating the shit out of me every single day.” His posture stiffens, as if my words are another slap to his face. “Yeah, I have daddy issues. I spent my childhood hiding from him so he couldn’t break my bones. Use my face as his punching bag. I walked on eggshells in hopes I wouldn’t give him a reason to kick me or pull my hair. And you’re right; he didn’t coddle me enough. He used his fist instead.”
“Mak—”
“And then, I find someone I thought was a good man and put all my trust in him. For what? To be taken advantage of? I guess my taste in men is all the same. I’m done.”
“Makayla—”
“Fuck you.”
“No—”
“I said fuck you. I’m done.”
He prowls toward me. “You’re not done. I’m not done. We’re not fucking done!”
“Why? Why do you keep doing this? Why do we keep doing this? We don’t work. We won’t ever work—”
“Because I fucking love you!”
His confession is like a sledgehammer to my chest. “Don’t you dare say something like that to me now. You only love the idea of me.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s the only truth I see.” Another tear cascades down my cheek. “I’m done letting you hurt me. I’m done letting anyone hurt me. I deserve better.”
He takes a cautious step toward me. “We’re not done, Makayla.”
This time, it’s me who throws my hands up. “What do you want from me, Ben?”
“For starters, why’d you never tell me about your piece of shit dad?”
“Tell you?” I scoff. “You were the last person I would have told.”
He eliminates the space between us. “Why? Makayla, it wasn’t always bad between us.”
“We had a moment or two where we weren’t clawing at each other. Doesn’t make you my savior, Ben.”
“But I would have done something! Is that why you just left? You didn’t even say goodbye—”