Page 272 of Unexpected Heroine

“Lettie, I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Head down, I remove myself from her body. I kiss her legs again before gently lowering them onto the mattress.

Overflowing with shame, I can’t meet her eyes as I get off the bed, remove the condom, and toss it in the trash.

When I come out of the bathroom, face and hands washed, I’m not strong enough to glance at where she lies, still naked and likely confused or livid.

And I don’t look at her while I pull my clothes back on.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from her, I put my shoes on.

As prepared as I was to fight for her love, to pour my heart out and beg at her feet for forgiveness, I still managed to fuck it up. Instead of groveling like I should be doing, I’m trying to dominate her into taking me back.

What the actual fuck is the matter with me?

So here I sit, ready for her to throw me out. It’ll come any minute now. And I deserve it.

Although I didn’t come up here under false pretenses, I lost control to a primal beast I didn’t know lived inside me. Being this close to Lettie, but unable to reclaim her as my own, is too much for me.

I’m weak. Unworthy of her.

The rustle of the covers behind me is the only sign I’m not alone. Physically.

You’ll always be alone, boy.

Yeah. I know, Dad.

Chapter 51

It's not a tragedy. It's a fucking love story

LETTIE

Ishould probably feel guilty, but I don’t. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t. Was standing up for myself guilt-worthy? Doubtful.

What he was doing was wrong, and he knows it. That’s why he stopped.

My fists clench the sheets in a white-knuckle grip, holding the light gray cotton to cover my bare chest. Thoughts swirl in my mind, but not as many as usual. Really there’s only two.

The first is me processing the gut-wrenching discomfort over upsetting him the way I did. I hate seeing him in pain and loathing himself. He might be more broken than me. Even worse, it was my words that triggered it.

The second train of thought steam rolling through my head is... how do I ease this sensation? For both of us. It’s as if steel wool is being dragged gently along the inside of my chest. Up and down in slow, light strokes. Not abrading or scouring. Just a flutter of discomfort. But the longer the moment stretches with him sitting there, unable to meet my eyes, the harder the steel wool grates against me.

Kicking him out is one way to end this moment. Then I could withdraw, hide out in this place as if it’s my cocoon, and wait until therapy. We’ve got our small group meeting tonight too. This will make great fodder for the girls.

Hey, ladies. Remember the man who barged in and saved us all from the mouth of Hell? He tried to fuck me today because I begged him to. But then in true Lettie fashion, I made it awkward. However, he started it. Anyhow. The salad from Panera was wilted by the time I attempted to eat it. I came twice, but still had blue bean. Crazy, right?

To this, they’ll respond in chorus, “Thanks for sharing, Lettie.”

Then I’ll take my seat. End scene.

Can’t wait for group. It’s gonna be lit.

As I study the back of his frame, hunched over the end of the bed with his head hanging in his hands, the wad of steel wool drags harder against my insides.

“You want to talk about it?” I ask, my tone soft and sincere.

His neck lengthens, and his spine stiffens. Over his shoulder, he asks, “Do you want to talk to me?”

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