Page 78 of Cruel When He Smiles
The shame tastes like blood in my mouth. I look away again. “Then he started ignoring me and pretending it was for my own good. It drove me fucking insane.”
The silence that follows is different than before. It’s loaded. Heavy with tension and the low hum of rage that I can feel vibrating off Sage like a storm about to snap.
Sage breathes in hard, dragging both hands through his hair, and his eyes are blown wide with disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I thought it was my fault,” I say. “Because I kept going back. Because I started needing it. Because even when it hurt, it felt like someone finally saw me. Like he saw the parts I usually keep locked down and didn’t flinch.”
His mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
“I didn’t tell you,” I whisper, “because I was ashamed.”
“Nate…”
“I thought I could handle him,” I say, my voice trembling and my shoulders slumping. “I thought if I just played along, if I stayed detached, it wouldn’t matter. But it did. It matters. And now I don’t know how to come back from it.”
Sage shifts in his seat, face etched with concern that cuts me deeper than judgment ever could.
“I let him fuck me,” I say, jaw clenched and unable to look at him. “At the BBQ. After I saw you with Luca. I was spiraling and angry and so fucking hollow, I didn’t care. I told him to make me forget, and he did.”
The confession doesn’t give me the relief I expected. It lands like a weight in my stomach, and I nearly fucking gag. “Nate…”
“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” I say quickly. “I’m not trying to justify it. I just—You deserved to know why I’ve been such a goddamn mess. Why I lashed out at you. Why I said all that shit.”
He leans forward now, resting his arms on the table. “You should’ve told me sooner.”
I nod. “I know.”
“And you still… do you still see him? Do you still want him?”
I hesitate. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”
“That’s not complicated, Nate,” Sage says, his voice cracking a little. “That’s toxic. That’s—That’s not okay.”
“I know that too,” I mutter. “But every time I try to pull away, he knows how to get me back. He doesn’t chase; he waits, and he watches. Then, the second I need something, he’s there to help. He’s the… the only thing that makes sense when I’m drowning.”
Sage looks like he wants to punch something. “That manipulative, gaslighting motherfucker,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. “Hewantsyou like this.”
I exhale hard, dragging a hand through my hair. “I know.”
Sage shakes his head. Standing up, he paces in front of me, hands on his hips. “No, I don’t think you do.” He stops, looking at me like he’s trying to force me to understand. “He wants you broken, Nate. He wants you lost, drowning, grasping for something solid while he’s the only one standing still.”
I know.
I fucking know.
“I’m gonna kill him.”
I can’t help but snort at that. “Yeah. That’s exactly how I felt about Luca.”
“This isn’t the same.”
“I know it’s not,” I sigh. “But the rage? The part of you that wants to destroy something because someone touched what they shouldn’t have? That part’s the same.”
Sage exhales slowly and runs a hand through his hair again. He’s visibly trying to rein in his temper, but his hands are clenched so tightly I can see the bones shift under his skin. Then he looks at me again, softer this time. “I should’ve seen it,” he murmurs. “I should’ve fucking seen it.”
“You didn’t, and that’s not on you.” I let my head fall back against the wall behind me, closing my eyes. “What do I do, Sage? How do I…”
“Pull yourself together.”
