Dirty Thoughts - Megan Erickson Page 0,84
was all happening again. And maybe for five seconds, I thought you punched him. But then I saw your face and . . . I knew you didn’t do it.”
“But last time, you chose—”
She shook her head, hair flying in her face. “I chose you!” She swallowed and then lowered her voice, sinking back onto the bed. “You have to know that, right? I chose you when I made that decision, even though it didn’t seem like it. If I hadn’t loved you, Cal, I would have let you take that hit. I would have let you fuck up your future. I loved you, so I chose you. And that meant I had to let you go.”
He needed water. And alcohol. And a bath in nicotine patches.
“But this time, I don’t have to let you go,” she said. “I quit, because I won’t work with my brother who uses you to carry out some stupid vendetta against me. Who won’t accept you. So that’s it.”
He reached for her, but she pulled her hand away. “You told me the first time I saw you again that you weren’t the same eighteen-year-old kid. And I believed you. So why can’t you believe that I’m not the same eighteen-year-old girl?”
He didn’t know what to say. His head was foggy, and his stomach still cramped from everything that had happened last night.
Jenna stood up, her on hand on top of her head. “Why aren’t you saying anything right now?”
Maybe if Asher hadn’t gotten hurt. If Cal hadn’t failed at that. If Jill hadn’t gotten her act together, he could have done this again. But his heart was raw, and he’d already begun building up that iron wall that had protected him for ten years. He didn’t belong in Jenna’s world, in her future. Cal didn’t belong in anyone’s future. He swallowed. “I don’t know if this can work.”
She blanched. “What?”
Now this pain, this was real, but if he could just get through it, he’d be back behind that wall that had served him so well. He had to walk over hot coals to get there but then never again. “I tried with Asher, Jenna, and I failed. And it would just be a matter of time before I actually fucked us up too. I thought I could do this again, thought I could dream for the things I once did. But I can’t. I’m not the same guy I was at eighteen, and I don’t want to be. No matter how much I try to pretend. It’s been too long, and I’m too used to keeping everything on lockdown, surrounding myself with things I can control. And I can’t control this. Any of this.”
Jenna stood frozen; the only indication she was alive was the rise and fall of her chest. “You can’t be serious right now.”
“I have never felt so hopeless as I have in the last day. Between your brother and Asher . . . ” He clenched his fists. “I’m dry, Jenna. My well has run dry. I got nothing left, no reserves. I’ve reached my limit. I thought I could give you what you need, but I can’t.”
She didn’t move. Her eyes were huge in her face, and fuck, Cal was getting burned, scarred. Why couldn’t this all be over so he could suffer in peace?
“And I’m not enough?”
He jerked his head up. “What?”
“That’s what you’re saying, then. That I’m not enough to give you what you need. To fill you back up.”
He didn’t know how to answer that, not at all. So he stayed silent.
She blinked rapidly, and her lips trembled. “So everything we’ve done—the late-night talks, my bringing you lunch at the garage, the movies, everything—that wasn’t enough to get you through some hard times?”
The last month flipped through his mind, but right now, none of it was getting through to him. It couldn’t cover the searing pain tearing through him now. “It’s not your fault, Jenna. You’re always enough. I just got a leak I can’t fix.”
She turned away, her ponytail flying around her face. When she reached the door of the bedroom, she stopped and said over her shoulder, “Thanks for being honest. Just so you know, I do think you’re good enough. But I’m done trying to convince you of it.”
And then she walked out.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“WE GOT MATCHING scars.” Max grinned and touched his head to Asher’s. “Head-trauma power!”
Asher laughed.
Cal didn’t find any of it funny. “You each took about five years off my life, so