Page 205 of Composed
But fuck if I’m not ready for it.
Not sure there will ever be a day I’m ready for Hendrix Moore to walk away from me.
I choke down the bile crawling up my throat. “Why are you doing this, Rixie?”
She lifts a shoulder as she bridges the distance with slow, measured steps. “It doesn’t work anymore.”
I search every inch of her face, looking for my girl in the depths, but she’s nowhere to be found.
Shaking my head, I bite my tongue until I taste blood. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” She tilts her head, a ghost of a sad smile flickering over her lips before they flatten. “We never see each other. We barely talk. You’re busy. I’m busy. We knew this wouldn’t last.”
“That’s fucking bullshit. We had a plan.”
“Plans change.”
“Not ours.” I shake my head and dig my thumb into the Hummingbird on my wrist. “Whatever the hell you’ve convinced yourself, you’re wrong. It works.Wework.”
Her gaze follows my hand, a muscle jumping in her cheek.
“I can’t do this.” She exhales a short breath. “I thought I could do the girlfriend of a rock star thing, but it’s just not for me.”
I blink, my eyelids stinging. “Do you want me to quit?”
She blinks, a breath puffing from her.
“I’ll do it.”
My chest aches when she says nothing.
“I’ll do anything, if you just fucking ask.”
For a split second, I see a crack. Gold flashes behind her green eyes and I think maybe I’ve got her. But it’s gone as quick as it comes.
“No,” she says, sharp and firm. “I don’t want you to quit. It won’t fix anything.”
“You said there was nothing to fix.” I scrub my hand over my chest. “That we were okay. That we were gonna be okay.”
She shrugs, hands clenching at her side. “I lied.”
“I don’t believe you, Rixie.” I jump down, the toes of my Vans aligning with hers. “This isn’t how we end.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.” Her usually husky voice is flat, cold, brittle, and fake as fuck. “You have a whole life to live, a legacy to build. You have to be out there, and I can’t follow you.”
I slide my hand along her cheek, bury my fingers into her hair, and press my forehead to hers.
“Why?” My voice cracks.
She doesn't answer.
I slam my eyes shut when she curls icy fingers around my wrist.
“Iloveyou, Rixie Moore.”
“I know.” She squeezes her hand, her breath coasting over my lips. “But you have to let me go.”
I sink my other hand into her hair. “What if I can’t?”
