Page 70 of Lessons in Heartbreak

“What do you need?” I asked quietly. God, I was glad my voice was quiet, because everything inside me shook with a tremendous force, and it felt like there was no outlet for the frantic thoughts racing through my head.

“The shirt,” she said in a halting voice. “I can’t ... I can’t get it.”

I stepped forward and pulled it carefully from her shaking hands, finding the neck hole and easing it over her head. She shoved her arms through the sleeves, her eyes pinched shut but her breath coming a little bit easier once the oversize shirt swamped her frame.

Backing away to give her space, I swiped a hand over my mouth and tried to find words.

When she opened her eyes, I felt the pain and embarrassment in them like she was screaming it into the room. But when she spoke, it was hardly above a whisper. “It’s my heart.” Absently, her hand rubbed at the line of the scar. I couldn’t get the image of it out of my head. “I ... I had heart transplant surgery about four years ago.”

“What?” My brow furrowed. “Why? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Another tear dashed down her cheek, and she scrubbed at it with an angry swipe of her hand. “I don’t owe anyone that information,” she said fiercely. “This was supposed to be fun, simple, easy, right?”

I held my hands up. “You’re right. You don’t owe anyone that.” I swallowed, mind racing while I searched for the right thing to say. “That’s why you stopped us the other night, isn’t it?”

She was crying openly now, not even trying to stop the tears coursing down her face. Ruby gave a jerky nod. “You don’t know what it’s like,” she whispered.

“Did you think I’d care that you have a scar?”

Her chest heaved, her eyes tortured. “Do you know what the last man told me who saw that? How he reacted when I pulled my shirt off? I’d warned him before I slept with him, and he still looked at me with disgust.Disgust, Griffin.”

My jaw was tight and my chest hot with ineffectual anger. “The corpse comment,” I said raggedly.

“‘Can’t you cover it?’” she whispered. “‘It makes me feel like I just fucked a corpse.’”

“Holy fuck,” I breathed, hanging my head down as my chest cracked wide open for this fucking woman.

She pressed her fingers to her mouth while she swallowed a sob. “Every time I think about someone looking at me or touching me, I hear him say it.” Her eyes pinched shut. “I just want to forget it’s there, and I can’t, because when I tell someone it happened, everything changes.”

“Ruby,” I said helplessly, reaching out to touch her, then pulling my hands back out of an abundance of caution. “That guy was a fucking asshole.”

Her eyes flashed. “I know that. But everyone treats you differently once they know. Like I’m fragile and I’m breakable. Like I can’t ... like I’m not normal.” She shook her head, her cheeks now splotchy and red from crying, and each tear made me want to tear my own fucking heart out, if only it would make her feel better. “You will too,” she whispered. “I can see the pity in your face.”

“You had a fucking heart transplant, Ruby, and I found out about it two seconds ago—of course I feel bad.” I speared my hands into my hair, shaking my head, desperately grasping for the reins on my control. The stark, obscene difference in why I needed it now was not lost on me. “It doesn’t mean I can’t handle it.”

She shook her head. “This is my fault. I’m sorry for not telling you earlier. I should’ve told you as soon as I asked for your help.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to agree, but I kept those words leashed by some sort of miraculous restraint. The truth was, I didn’t know what she felt like, and I never would.

A heart transplant in her midtwenties? Fucking inconceivable. A million questions peppered my choppy thoughts, but I kept them banked.

Now wasn’t the time. I just hoped she’d give me more of that.

“I need to get back out there,” she said, voice heavy with resignation. “I, um, I won’t go back to the tank with you, though. I should check on the other booths.” She glanced at her watch and sighed. “We only have about an hour left.”

She started turning away, and before I could stop myself, I reached out, wrapping my fingers lightly around her wrist.

“Ruby,” I whispered, wanting to step closer and fold her up in my arms, wanting to hold her tight and take away everything inside her that made her sad, that made her hurt. Something in her face held me back, as effective as her hands, firm and unyielding, against my chest.

Her mouth curled into a sad smile, and she gently pulled out of my grasp. “It’s okay, Griffin.”

She disappeared around the corner, and I braced my hands against the wall, head hanging down.

No. No, it wasn’t okay. I just didn’t know what it meant.

Chapter SeventeenGriffin

“Bro.” Marcus snapped his fingers.

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