Page 86 of Kane's Awakening
“When’s the last time you went grocery shopping? There reallyisn’tanything to eat in here. Maybe I can make something with these pasta noodles… dang, there’s nothing to go with them. Not even butter.”
He droned on and I tuned him out. I felt that tickle in my throat, the same one I’d felt before my last anxiety attack, and I focused on my breathing, inhaling for three seconds, holding that breath, and then slowly exhaling.
When Ryker made a comment about me needing to go shopping, I kind of lost it.
“Wanna tell me what else is wrong with me while you’re at it?” I snapped, looking up at him. “Too many fucking dirty dishes in the damn sink? No food in the house. Sorry I’m not fucking perfect.”
He gaped. “Kane, I wasn’t—”
“I think you should leave, Ryker.” I stood up and motioned to the door. “I wanna be alone.”
Stop pushing him away, you dumbass.
Thinking of Ryker had given me the strength I’d needed to stand up to Devon that day, but there I was treating him like shit again. He didn’t deserve it, but I couldn’t stop.
However, unlike the past times when we’d fought and he ended up leaving, he didn’t move that time. Instead, he studied me with questioning blue eyes—blue eyes that were so different than the ones I’d peered into earlier that day with Devon.
Then, he was in front of me, taking my face into his hands. “What happened, Kane? This isn’t like you.”
My instinct was to pull away from him. Again. I jerked out of his hold and stepped to the side to put distance between us.
“You’re acting like a damn child,” he pointed out, giving me my space, but not backing down.
“I’mnota child!” But I sounded a lot like one with that statement.
“Then grow the hell up and realize what you’re trying to throw away,” he said in a softer voice. “I’m not a yo-yo, Kane. We’ve already had this discussion. You can’t keep pulling me in when you want me, and then tossing me away when things get tough. That’s not how relationships work.”
“And you’re the fucking expert on them, right?” Shit, my tone was so damn bitter and condescending. “How many have you had, Rye? Am I just another name to add to the pile of your failed relationships? Do you even like me, or are you only interested in racing to the fucking finish line so you can get your happily ever after with a man you don’t give two shits about? Just so you can parade me around like a damn prize. Your fucking Mr. Right.”
His eyes watered and he scratched at his jaw.
“You really know how to hit people where it hurts, don’t you?” Ryker asked, walking over and leaning against the counter, putting even more space between us.
It felt symbolic. Not just a physical distance, but an emotional one, too. I’d completely closed myself off from him—shut down—and reverted back to my defense mechanism of hurting people before they could hurt me.
I didn’t know why I said hateful things when I knew damn well I didn’t mean them—especially to him of all people.
“Rye… I didn’t mean that,” I admitted, combing my fingers through the top of my hair before gripping it and blowing out a sharp breath. “Fuck. I don’t know why I lash out at you. It’s like I’m on the inside screaming for me to shut up, but I do it anyway.” A realization hit, and I braced my arms on the table, angling my head toward the floor. “Fuck! That’s like mental abuse at its finest, isn’t it? The abused becomes the abuser.”
Tears stung my eyes, and I closed them.
Arms came around me, and I fucking couldn’t stop the tears from falling. A small cry escaped my lips, and my body quaked as I fought to stay strong and not lose control.
Ryker kissed my nape and held me closer. His heart beat at my back and the warmth of him only made me feel colder. Ashamed.
I didn’t deserve his comfort.
When I went to leave his arms, he spun me around and our lips connected.
I whined against his mouth as the tears continued to fall. He claimed my mouth just like he’d started claiming my heart, and it was all too much.
I needed distance from him and the emotions he stirred in me, the ones that made me look forward to seeing him every day, ones that made me smile just at the mention of his damn name. He’d become a part of my life and not having him would not only reopen old wounds but create new ones.
And I wasn’t sure I could heal from those wounds.
I pressed more against him and kissed him through my tears—a fucking sign of weakness—but I no longer cared. Anxiety swarmed in my gut, but with the nerves and fear there was also happiness. It was all so fucking confusing, and I didn’t understand one bit of it.
Breaking away from his mouth, I met his worried gaze and knew he deserved answers. I’d been dragging my feet for too long, and it was time to come clean.
