Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth. What the fuck would you want to be tied down to me for? Besides,” he adds, turning away again, “it might be a little awkward, fucking River while you’re, like, eight or nine months pregnant. Right? It’s more convenient this way.”
“That’s just not true.”
Whirling on me, he growls, “The second River shows up, you fuck him. I mean, what is there to not understand? Do you think I’m stupid?”
“No! But you’re letting him twist you up. That’s what he wants. Dammit!”
I close my eyes and count to five, taking it slow, measured breath with every count. This is Ren, and I love Ren, and it would shatter my heart if I said anything I couldn’t take back.
Once I trust myself again, I murmur, “He wants you to be jealous. Don’t give him what he wants.”
“How am I not supposed to be jealous? You fucked him!”
“I had sex with you,” I insist. “I don’t consider it that way. Like you’re separate people. Because you aren’t, not really. You’re the same person, and I love you.”
He barks out a nasty laugh that makes me want to die. There’s so much hatred and ugliness in it. “I’m really glad you can tell yourself that.”
There’s no stopping the tears no matter how I try. Let him see how he’s hurting me. How I mean what I’m saying. “I can’t believe you would accuse me like this! Like I’m trying to justify cheating on you or something.”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing!”
“River is only part of you,” I snap. “I love you just the same no matter what mental state you happen to be in. Whether it’s you or River in there. I love you. I was with you yesterday.”
He drops back to the bed and lowers his head until it’s resting in his hands. “It’s not the same. I’m not… there when it happens. He might be part of me, but he’s not me.” There is so much hurt in the way he says it. He’s in pain, and I’m part of the reason why he is in pain, and there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s the most helpless feeling in the world. It makes me sick to my stomach, but no matter how miserable I am, it’s nothing compared to what he feels.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, even when I know it doesn’t make a difference. You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube.
“Yeah. Me, too.” With a grunt, he shakes his head and lets his hands drop to his lap. “There’s only one thing to do about this.”
I don’t like the sound of it, but I nod anyway. He deserves to have his say.
“I need you to stay away from me.” When my mouth falls open, he holds up a hand and looks at the floor. “I need some time to myself. That’s all. And if you truly give a shit about me, you’ll let me have it. No fighting.”
I do truly love him. In a world full of doubts and fears, that’s one thing I never have to question. It’s the reason I’m able to stand on trembling legs. “Okay. I’ll give you your space.”
I want to tell him again how sorry I am, but he doesn’t need to hear it now. If anything, the sound of my voice is hurting him. It seems like all I can do lately is hurt him. “I guess… send word when you think you can handle seeing me again. I won’t bother you,” I promise, even as my instincts scream at me to stay and make him listen. I can’t bully him into believing me. I can only trust he’ll see the truth on his own.
I might not have been able to keep myself from crying, but I’m at least able to hold back the first sob until I’m out of the room, leaning against the wall for support with both hands clamped over my mouth to muffle the sound.
25
REN
Idon’t love the silence in the room after I’ve finished telling Dr. Stone about what went down with Scarlet. It’s the kind of silence that weighs on a guy. I know she’s got to be thinking all sorts of shit she doesn’t want to say out loud. And I fucking hate it. Somehow, in the middle of all this shit, it’s what I hate the most.
“Well?” I have to ask. “What do you think? You’re not saying anything, and that’s not a good sign.”
“Forgive me.” There are times I hate how gentle and careful she always is. She doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. Always wanting to be professional. I get it, and when I’m not in a shit mood, I can even appreciate it. It can’t be easy, sitting there and acting like a blank slate for a patient to scrawl their thoughts and fears across. There’s got to be all kinds of opinions banging around inside her skull, but she’s good at pretending otherwise.