Page 140 of Love Sick

She takes two steps toward me. “I don’t want this.”

“Changing your mind, then?”

She looks devastated, tears sparkling, then shakes her head.

“Then go.” I hate how hollow my voice rings. “If you’re not willing to put a little faith in me—”

“The risk-reward ratio here isn’t—”

“I’m not a risk,” I snap.

“Can you swear that you’ll stay no matter what?” She drops her gaze, eyes shining like she already knows my answer. “Can you promise me forever?”

Forever.

Pictures spread over my mind, memories that don’t exist. Grace meeting my mother. Watching her walk toward me in a white dress. Endless days of laughter and arguing, nights of pleasure and passion.

I want it. This future she won’t give me. I want it more than anything.

Taking one step up, I stare deep into her eyes. “What if I could? I love you, and I want you forever.”

She shakes her head. “Youdon’t. Haven’t you figured out there’s no such thing as forever?”

Ouch. Wow. I lay it on the line, andthat’sher response?

Does she really think that? Does she think if I put a ring on her finger, I wouldn’t honor that promise? How could I not have realized before now how little she trusts me?

She’s too scared to put any faith in me.

“You’re a coward,” I say.

Swallowing, she nods. “I know.”

I shrug my messenger bag higher on my shoulder. “You’ll regret this.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

She closes the remaining distance between us and stands on the stair above mine, putting us close to eye-level. “Because I just—I can’t. And you deserve better.”

A cold spike lodges behind my ribs and my blood stirs. Fury strikes like lightning. She’s going to try to play the martyr? After ripping my heart out and taking a pickax to it?

“So selfless, aren’t you? You think you know everything.” My voice is serrated. I hope it shreds through her like paper. “Tearing me apart and convincing yourself it’s for me. Does my blood on your hands make you feel good, Grace?”

She sniffles.

I stare her down. She doesn’t balk despite the tears. She’s ensnared in my fire, and I throw out my next words in a selfish desire to hurt her. “You think I deserve someone better? Fine. Let’s see if I can find her.”

It’s only after I leave that the self-hatred punctures my anger.

I’m not this person. This bitter, angry, heartbroken man. Regret soaks in, spurring the desire to apologize.

My pain doesn’t give me the right to hurt her back, does it?

I don’t know what’s right anymore.

I don’t know anything.

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