and we had failed.
Epically.
So I was doing what I had to in order to make things right again.
“What’s going on?”
I spun back around to grab another load of clothes from the dresser, not bothering to glance in the direction of Noah’s voice. I knew if I looked at him and saw those whiskey-colored eyes looking back at me my resolve would weaken. It always did.
“I’m packing,” I answered blandly, closing the lid on one of the full suitcases and zipping it up, ready to move on to the next one.
When Noah spoke again his voice was closer. “I can see that. What I don’t understand is why. Where you goin’, wildflower?”
The sound of that endearment—that sweet nickname he’d given me the first day we met—was like a shot to the heart. I had to squeeze my eyes against the onslaught of tears that threatened to fall.
“I’m leaving,” was all I said in response as I kept my sole focus on the task at hand.
“Look at me, wildflower.”
I ignored his soft command, for my own wellbeing.
“Goddamn it, Harlow! Look at me!”
I spun around on a shout. “What? What do you want from me, Noah?”
“Baby, please,” he pleaded, taking a step in my direction. The instant I moved back a pace he stopped, seemingly shocked at my reaction. “Let’s talk about this, okay? We can fix this.”
“No, we can’t,” I told him quietly. “That’s why I’m leaving.”
At my words he moved forward, ignoring my retreat until he was standing so close I could feel his breath on my skin. “Don’t do this, baby. Please. I love you.”
I lost the battle against my tears. I let them fill my eyes before trickling down my cheeks, distorting his image as I stared up at him. “If you loving someone means leaving them all alone when they needed you the most, then I’m better off without it. You don’t know how to love anyone but yourself, Noah.”
“Don’t say that,” he spoke in an agonized whisper before his voice grew louder. “Don’t say that! It’s not true, and you know it, Harlow! I love you. You’re not leaving me. I won’t let you. We can work this out.”
I tried my hardest to ignore the pain etched into Noah’s expression. He had no right to stand in front of me looking hurt.
I hurt.
I was the one suffering.
Seeing that look on his face caused the bone-deep sorrow that had been plaguing me for weeks to morph into something else entirely.
Red hot anger.
Reaching out, I snatched up the envelope that was resting on my nightstand and shoved it into his chest as hard as I could, sending him teetering back only a step. Noah’s size had always been something I loved about him. I was tall for a girl but he still towered over me, standing at six foot two at only eighteen years old, and still growing. He was tall and muscular thanks to years of football, and every time he wrapped me in his arms, I felt secure. He was my safe place, my anchor.
Until he wasn’t.
At that very moment his size and strength did nothing but infuriate me more.
“What the hell is this?” he asked, lifting the flap of the envelope and pulling out the papers inside. Those warm eyes grew wide, his full lips parted on a heavy exhale as his jaw dropped.
I spoke before he could say so much as one word in objection.
“Sign them,” I demanded. “Sign them and let me go. This isn’t want you want. It never was. I’m giving you an out. All you have to do is sign the papers.”
“I don’t want a fucking out,” he growled.
The next words out of my mouth froze him in place and I knew I’d finally hit my mark. “Then do it for me. Sign them and let me go so I can try and get back to happy.” My voice broke on a sob that bubbled up in my throat. “I hate feeling this way all the time. I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to.” Brushing the tears from my cheeks, I looked at him beseechingly, wanting—no, needing—him to understand. “This isn’t the life I thought we’d have. I don’t want this life. I want something better.”
My voice was so quiet I feared he might not have heard me, but then his eyes grew wet as he looked down at me. His voice came out scratchy, full of regret. “We can fix this. I can fix this. You have to