Page 92 of The Truth About Love

I’m confused at first, as she sits back on the couch and takes off her socks. But when she lifts up her feet to show me the undersides, it becomes gut-wrenchingly clear. Every inch of the skin on the soles of her feet are covered in faded, bloody slashes. The marks aren’t fresh, but they’ve definitely been made recently.

I’ve been checking her arms and legs religiously for cuts and stupidly celebrating that they’ve been clear at every inspection. Turns out, I was just looking in the wrong places.

“Fuck,” I choke.

I can’t help myself, I stand and go to her, taking her feet in my hands and tracing my fingers over every jagged line. God, she must have been in so much pain every time she took a step. How the fuck did I not notice?

“I’m so sorry, baby,” I say, the sheer size of my failure crashing into me like a forty-tonne truck.

Summer-Raine blinks. “What?”

“I should have known. I should have realised.” I slam the heel of my hand into my forehead as I scrunch my eyes shut. “I was supposed to be looking after you and I failed. None of this is your fault, the drugs, the cuts, nothing. It’s all on me.”

The touch of her soft hand to my face encourages me to look at her. She slides off the couch to meet me on the floor and slides her other hand round to the back of my neck.

“Don’t be silly,” she whispers, only a breath away from my lips. “If an addict wants to hide something from you, best believe they’ll find a way to do it.”

“But you’re not an addict.”

“I am.” She smiles sadly. “I’m addicted to pain.”

“God, Summer-Raine. I truly thought I could help you.”

She releases a soft sigh. “Don’t you see? All I do is hurt you and all you do is try to piece me back together. It’s why I left. It’s why you and I can never be together.”

Fuck, she’s right.

It’s the first time I’ve truly accepted it.

How could we ever be together when our relationship is centred around me trying to fix her? And yeah, maybe some of that is because of my own emotional baggage. I could never give up on her because I’d never allow myself to turn my back on someone who needs me, like my dad did when he left my Mama.

As long as she’s sick, I’ll keep trying to fix her. And that’s no basis for a healthy relationship. As long as things stay the same, we won’t ever be good for each other. We could never make each other happy like this and maybe it’s time I finally see that.

Maybe it’s time I accept that it’s time to say goodbye.

“I think maybe I need to move out,” I say gently. Summer-Raine sobs quietly, but nods like she’s decided the same thing too. “I’ll still be here for you, baby, I always will be, but I think it’s getting way too complicated with me living here. We’re only hurting each other.”

“I know,” she cries. “I know.”

I wrap my arms around her and pull her into me. She curls into my lap on the floor and tucks her head into my neck. The position is so natural to us, so right. It always has been.

It probably always will be.

Because even though I know it’s time to let her go, I’ll always love her. That will never change. I’ll carry Summer-Raine and the memories of her in my heart for all of time.

“Auden?” she whispers tentatively, lifting her head to meet my eye.

“Mm?” I can hardly speak for fear of crying.

“If this is goodbye, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Be with me one last time? Make love to me. If this really is the end, let me have this night and then I’ll let you go.”

Could I really do that? Could I touch her again, feel her skin and her lips and her body under my hands after everything and still leave in the morning?

But my body decides for me, because before I know what I’m doing, I’ve scooped Summer-Raine into my arms and I’m carrying her through to the bedroom.

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