it. If you tell me right now that you didn’t feel it and still don’t, then I won’t ever bring it up again. I’ll make sure you can visit Shade, and when you come over, I won’t be here, I promise. I do want what’s best for him. I love that kid more than anything, and I want him to be happy. I know he misses you like crazy, so just tell me. Just tell me you really do hate me for real and that you felt nothing and feel nothing now. That you might not stay angry with me forever, but even forgiveness won’t change anything.”
My stomach feels like I just drank a gallon of water. It sloshes angrily, and my chest compresses, making me feel dangerously close to tears or puking, though I’m not sure which. I just know that either way, it hurts.
I look straight at his beautiful face and into his beautiful eyes. “I didn’t feel it, and I still don’t. I might forgive you eventually, but it won’t change what happened, and it won’t change the fact that I’ll never change my mind about it moving forward.”
Luke’s good at hiding what he feels. I’ve seen that before. I’ve watched him shut down, but never like he does now. He does try to keep his pain private, but his lips turn down, and there’s a misty sheen in his eyes. He looks startled, but he also looks wrecked.
“O-okay.” He turns quickly, angling away from me and completely shutting me out the way I basically just asked him to do. “I’ll make sure we can set up a time soon for you to see Shade. Don’t worry about the cab costs. I’ll cover it. Everything. If you want to take him out for pizza or ice cream or to the splash pad or park or anything, I’ll pay for it all.”
Ugh. Now we’re talking about money—an arrangement for Shade and me this time instead of Luke and me. Luke’s fine-tuning the details, rambling on, but I tune him out. I do hear myself mutter something into the still air, probably some sort of assent. Then I get up. I feel myself walking toward the door and opening it, letting myself out. Once I’m out, I stand on the doorstep and gulp in huge, deep breaths.
I feel like I just fell face-first into a bush of nasty thorns—thorns that held me fast so I couldn’t get out, and thorns that shredded me into pieces, ripped me open, stole my breath, and ate into my flesh, heart, and soul.
I can’t do this.
Luke was genuine in there. He freaking meant every word he said. Feelings. He says he has feelings, but what does that even mean? How much and what kind? Are they the same as mine? Of course they’re the same as mine. I can’t pretend I misunderstood that. Luke doesn’t open up, but he opened up to me. He cares about his privacy so much that he invented a fake persona to maintain it, but he let me in. He let me in, past all of it, and he made me feel cared for, cherished, and alive in ways I’ve never known before. He made me feel like my skin, bones, breath, and spirit were all designed to find their match in him. Yeah, that’s a lot to glean from a few weeks spent together, but I didn’t need a few weeks. I think I knew it—in the very essence of whatever parts know things like that—almost right from the start.
And then Luke ruined everything.
No. Then I ruined everything.
People screw up, and yeah, it sucks. People get mad, people have fights and arguments, and people get pissed and refuse to hear each other out. Bitterness and resentment are real, and they can fester and ruin even the brightest feelings and the best of intentions. I bet all those people who didn’t make it, who once loved each other like crazy, can define a moment that changed everything for them—when one or both of them decided to stop trying. Do they regret it? Do they wish they could go back in time and react differently? Fix it? Fix the past version of themselves? How many good things get thrown away because of stubborn pride?
For the love of chicken nuggets.
I turn and fly back through the door I just burst out of. In my rush to get back to the living room, I don’t even know if I closed it