“You didn’t tell me not to.” Her tone is laced with pain.
I fucking hate myself for reacting this way, but I can’t find it in me to stop.
She. Can’t. Fucking. Love. Me.
I pace the room, wondering how the hell we got here. I mean, I know how we did, but the fact I allowed her to fall in love with me. After everything I’ve been through with my dad, shecan’tlove me like this.
At. Least. Not. Yet.
“You didn’t tell me not to!” This time, her voice is stronger and louder. “What did you expect to happen, Logan? We spend so much time together. You spend nights at my place. We have sex about every other day. You’ve been there for me in my darkest times.”
I run my hands through my hair, pulling at the ends.
I could make this easy.
I could just tell her those three words that I know I feel toward her and this argument could be done.
But the walls around my heart are so tall.
My mind won’t allow me to feel that way out of fear for the future, fear that she will fall madly and deeply in love with me and one day I’ll pick up pizza for her on the way home and—-
“I have to go.”
“Logan,” she begs. “Please.”
“You weren’t supposed to love me,” I said much louder than I intend to. My irrational fears are creeping in and taking over. And I don’t know how to make them stop from clouding my judgment.
She gasps and sits back in the bed as if my words just punched her.
“I’m not built for this. I’m not this kind of guy. I have a fucked up mind, and I can’t allow you to get hurt.”
“You don’t really believe you could hurt me, do you?”
“I can. And I will.”
Emiline’s shoulders sag and she looks down at her hands in her lap.
I turn and walk out the door without another look.
I need to breathe and get my head on straight.
I need to talk this through with Silas.
I would never hurt her in the ways she thinks I would.
My crushing fear in my chest is leaving her the way my dad left me.
It would be too much of a devastating end to a beautiful beginning.
“Put the gloves down,”Silas shouts.
My hands fall to my side in defeat while my chest rises and falls in quick, rapid movements.
“Put them down,” he orders. “You’re going to tell me what has you so worked up today. Because I can’t keep up with you. You’re going to break my hands right through the mitts if you keep throwing punches like that.”
“No,” I snap. “Keep going.”
I throw punch after punch in his direction, letting out every ounce of frustration this day has built.