Page 119 of The True Garza
No need. The stomach-growling hunger I had is now gone. It feels as if I’ve digested a bag of rocks.
Minutes later, True returns with a stuffed duffel bag. “Don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’ll call you.” He moves right past me and heads for the door.
“Ah, okay. Be safe.”
In several footfalls, the door slams shut behind him.
I shouldn’t have said the words, but I did. And now this is the end. For good. I’m not dumb. His haste out of here was less about the work emergency and more about getting away from me.
Been there, done that.
He couldn’t even look at me.
I clean up the kitchen before I head upstairs, take a long shower, then pack.
“I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
Translation:You might as well just leave.
I call an Uber.
“But I’ll call you.”
Translation:I won’t. This is it.
In eight minutes, my Uber has arrived.
Bag clutched tightly in my hand, I take one last look around the house, in all its chaotically artful glory.
I’m going to miss you, True Garza.
Heart heavy with regret, I walk out the door. “Bye, Mateo.”
CHAPTER Twenty-Nine
“Undo what you did, and I will.”
True
Wanna know why Itriedto assert control with her?
Because I knew I had zero control over her. Knew I didn’t own her. Knew she wasn’t mine. Each and every time she gave in, it was because shewantedto. Because it got her off. Because she knew what waited at the end of submission to me. She created an illusion, and I fed off it to stay sane. Knowing all the while that, at any moment, she could pull the rug and leave me flat on my face.
At no other time in my life do I feel twisted inside out, manic, and utterly powerless than when I’m with London. Never in my life have I ever wanted to fight for someone, yet have to fightmyself,with everything in me, not to. Because winning her would be like receiving a trophy made of crystal, only to slip and fall while stepping down from the podium and watch that trophy you fought so damn hard for shatter to fucking pieces.
Disastrous, that’s what it would be.
London is a treasure I’m not allowed to keep.
It’s the right thing—letting her go.
But knowing that does fuck all to stop my chest from feeling like it’s undergoing a goddamn excavation. I slam my fist against it and grit my teeth. “Fuckingstop, you fucking weak ass.”
My phone blasts from the dash mount.
Trent calling….
“What?” I grit around the ache.
