Page 145 of Unexpected Heroine

I expected her fury and tears.

I knew I’d forever be unredeemable in her eyes.

All of those things I was prepared for. And more.

But this?

I never expected her to reject the simplest of truths—my love for her.

Despite never verbalizing it, I was sure she knew. How could she not? My world revolves around her.

She’s . . . everything.

Through the mounting tumult, a memory of when we were first dating crops up in the corner of my mind. Our first night in the voyeur room at Bask. She needed me to say the words. To verbally commit to being exclusive to her. I thought my actions spoke loud enough. Her needing to hear the words didn’t make sense then. And it doesn’t make sense now. Especially since I am giving her the words. But she doesn’t believe me.

Do they matter, or don’t they? How can she have it both ways?

Fucking hell. People will never make sense to me. Some things never change.

If her next words are anything to go by, my expression must broadcast my confusion in vivid color.

She puts her hands on her hips and skewers me with her sharp glare. “I recognize that expression.” Raising her pointer finger, she draws a quick circle, gesturing at my face. “Normally, I’d explain my reaction. Unfortunately for you, my give a fuck candle has done been snuffed out. Regardless of what my perpetually forgiving doormat tendencies demand of me, I cannot find the grace inside me to be kind to you anymore. Figure it out your own damn self.”

Without another word, she scurries around me, harrumphing as she goes. “I love you. Unbelievable.” After scooping up her duffel bag, she stomps her foot and grumbles, “How dare he say that now, of all times.”

I stand there, dumbstruck and speechless.

The sobering reality of the situation allows me to gather my composure, halting my pathetic attempts to beg her for something I don’t deserve—her forgiveness.

The idea of her leaving without believing I love her is pure agony. It might as well be spikes in my nail beds. How can I convince her?

It doesn’t matter, boy. Your feelings are worthless. You are worthless.

The sound of rustling behind me catches my attention, and I turn to find her roughly shoving in handfuls of clothes, one after the other. My mouth opens and closes as I bumble for the words.

Stomping into the closet, she snatches down her sundresses and skirts. I hear her mumbling in annoyance over the snap and click of the hangers.

Each garment she stuffs in the bag brings her closer to walking out the door. And out of my life.

She’s better off without you.

When she barrels out of the closet, rounding toward the bathroom, I plant myself in her path with my palms facing outward. A rush of hysteria strikes every cell of my body at once. I don’t know what to say or do. I’m operating at a total loss here.

And Lettie has no patience for my ineptitude.

“What?” she snaps.

“I. Fucking. Love. You.”

Without missing a beat, she retorts, “And. I. Don’t. Fucking. Care.” Her nostrils flare, and her teeth grind audibly. “Even if it mattered—which it doesn’t—I can’t believe you. You lie like a no-legged dog.”

My heartbeat slows, chest freezing over. “Violet, you can believe this. I do love you.”

Rolling her shoulders back, she holds her head high. She’s so damn strong. My opposite in every way.

She jostles the overflowing bag from one arm to another. “That sooo ain’t the friggin’ point. Might as well quit while you’re behind. It’s too dang late. I won’t be manipulated with words. Your actions have said plenty.”

“Lettie, I’m not trying to manipulate you. Hell, I already know there’s nothing I can do to make you stay. I’ve always known that.” My words falter, and my breath hitches. “I just need you to believe me when?—”

---