a chair. I’m swaying, as weak as a reed in the face of a hurricane.
“Sugar? What the fuck?”
I dig down deep for strength. “I saw the picture of Willow you keep in your nightstand. You never mentioned how much we resemble each other.” I’m amazed at the calmness in my voice.
Maybe I’m just numb. Maybe I always expected the axe to fall on us eventually. I think about Mama and her face all the times she’d cry and tell me my father was once again gone back to his family. Is that what my face looks like now? Devastated and broken?
His chest expands, and he looks at me before stalking by and going into his room, but I don’t follow. I hear him moving stuff around, slamming a drawer, and then he comes back into the kitchen. “You went through my things?”
“You think I went through your things? Screw you.”
I turn to the sink to fill a glass to settle my stomach, but water goes everywhere as my hand shakes. I set it back down on the counter then turn to face him. He’s dropped into a chair and scrubs at his hair, a hesitant, almost frightened look on his face.
“This…this isn’t what it looks like.”
My hands clench. “It looks like you picked me out at that party because of Willow. It looks like you’re with me because I look like her.” I think back to the photo, the eerie resemblance. I want the floor to swallow me whole.
He doesn’t say anything for so long, until I want to scream to get a reaction out of him. “Z, I look like her! Just admit it, please!”
“Yes,” he whispers.
My heart drops as I take that blow. “And you could have told me at any time about the resemblance, but you didn’t. We’ve been together since January and you never told me.”
A thick silence fills the room. He swallows and looks away. “I started to a few times, but it never felt right—”
“You knew how this would end.” I shake my head.
He whitens. “I was going to tell you eventually…”
“When?”
“After hockey…shit, I don’t know. I was afraid to say anything. I didn’t want to screw us up…” He bites his lip, chewing on it.
I laugh harshly and press my hand to my lips. “And this is why Reece doesn’t like me.” I close my eyes then open them when I hear Z scooting the chair back. He approaches me, and I step around him, because if he touches me, I might not be able to think. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
He halts and runs a hand through his hair, pulling on it. “You’re… It’s not like that. You are not her. I want you.”
“So you weren’t thinking about her? Ever? How about ‘I love you. Forever.’ Sound familiar? How about ‘If you were here, my whole life would be different’? You wrote that in a letter one week ago.”
His throat bobs. Good, good. I want him upset. He reaches out to cup my face, but I jerk away. “Stop.”
He sucks in a breath. “Please, whatever you’re thinking, just stop for a minute and let me explain, Sugar.”
I grit my teeth. He can’t see the forest for the trees. He doesn’t see what’s wrong about this. Or he does, but he isn’t ready to admit it. He’s lost, still in love with a dead girl, and I can’t help him.
I move toward the door but his voice stops me, pleading. “Please don’t leave.”
I face him. “You can’t build a relationship on a lie,” I say quietly, regaining some control, because I have to get the words out. I have to. “You’re just like every guy who’s broken my heart, Z. At least with Bennett, it was a girl I could see, but you…you picked someone I can never, ever compare to. You deliberately left me in the dark and now here we are—at the fucking end.”
His face reddens and his hands curl. “No, not the end. I refuse to let you go. Don’t walk out on me, Sugar. Not now, not when I’m already losing my shit. Please.”
“Goodbye, Z.” My voice cracks and I’m out the door and running to my car.
34
Zack
She walks out the door and I don’t follow her. I can’t. I’m shaking and this feeling of despair might just swallow me whole.
Goodbye, Z. Goodbye.
No, no, no. I plop my ass back down on a kitchen chair and take deep breaths, in and out. This can’t be fucking happening.