Page 84 of It's Always Been You
“I just want to cuddle,” I murmur enticingly, scooting back onto the bed and patting the space next to me. “Just for a little bit. Then you can go. Please?”
His eyes darken when he glances at the sheets. I shiver. “No.”
I didn’t expect to take his rejection so hard or so personally, but my eyes water again, and my chin wobbles. Nodding, I flop down on the bed—wincing as my back protests—and pull the covers over my face as the waterworks set in. Ever since Adam’s Bible study group prayed over me, I can’t seem to stop crying—even over the simplest, dumbest, most mundane things.
It’s infuriating.
“Evie,” Brandon murmurs, pulling the cover back. I roll away as another irrational tear slips down my cheek. The bed shifts as he sits down beside me. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he whispers, wiping the tears away.
I know I’m being ridiculous. He just admitted that he loves me, that he wants me this way. So there’s no need for me to feel so hurt by his rejection. But . . . he still doesn’t want to be more than friends. He wants things to go back to the way they werebefore.
So where does that leave us?
I cry harder.
“Evie . . .”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Brandon. It’s just my back,” I snark before burying my face in my pillow.
“Okay.” He’s silent for a moment.
“You can go now,” I growl, irritated that he’s just watching me have an emotional breakdown over his very reasonable and responsible decision not to stay the night.
“Not before you tell me why you’re so upset,” he insists quietly. “Talk to me, Evie. Like you used to. Help me understand so I can make it better.”
I sob silently into my pillow, recalling all the times he left immediately after we were intimate, all the times he sent me home when I wanted to stay wrapped up in his arms. All the times I wanted him to stay the night with me, but he refused. I remember how painful and embarrassing the rejection felt, how I always walked away from the experience feeling used and empty. Each time, it seemed like he would give me less and less of himself. First, he would stay for half the night, talking and cuddling with me like I was his whole world. Then he would only stay for a few minutes afterward, claiming he needed to get up early the next morning. Then he started leaving right after . . .
I didn’t know what to do. I got more and more desperate each time. It felt as if I was losing him before I’d even had him, and I ended up giving everything to him—every part of me—just to try and put a stop to his slow, torturous, disinterested retreat. To try and keep hold of him and his waning interest.
It didn’t work.
I mumble the words into the cotton, wishing they weren’t true. “It hurts when you leave.”
He’s quiet for so long that I wonder if he’s heard me. “I’ll stay, if you really want me to,” he finally whispers, stroking the back of my hair. Irrationally, I sob harder under his touch, my heart aching with an indescribable longing. My chest feels like it might implode under the pressure.
I wish I didn’t love him. How uncomplicated my life would be.
God, take this pain away. Please.
“But not all night,” he clarifies. “And not in the bed.”
My heart jumps. I peek a curious, tearful eye out of my pillow. “Where?”
He nods at the rocking chair, then motions forme to sit up. “Come here.”
The joy that those two simple words spark in my heart is unhealthy. Concerning, even. But I spring from the bed like my back doesn’t feel half broken—a miracle, really—and clamber into his arms, unwilling to let him go.
At least, not tonight.
Chapter 26
Brandon
It’salmostseventhirty,but Evie hasn’t been answering her phone all morning. I call Maggie’s landline, and she doesn’t pick up either. Worried now, I get out of the car and knock on the front door. After a minute of silence, I hear shuffling on the other side.
Maggie opens it. “Brandon?” She glances at her watch.
“Morning, Maggie. Sorry to disturb you like this.” I hold up my phone. “But Evie isn’t answering her phone. Is everything okay?”
