Page 52 of Break Point
I need to get my mind off things. All I do is train, travel, and play tennis. And it’s all I’ve known since I was a kid. I love it, it’s what I live for, but I will go insane if I stay home tonight with my self-sabotaging, nagging thoughts. And right now, Henry can’t help me. He’s part of the reason that’s causing my current unstable emotional state.
I need Gemma.
“It hurts to see you like this,” he says. “You need to stop allowing every little thing that happens to affect you in the worst possible way. You weren’t like this before. The Belén I remember used to be happier.”
I agree with him, as usual. I remember being happier, too. Ever since Henry came back and I laid eyes on him again, I understood his presence in my life was one of the main reasons fueling that feeling. And that’s why I can’t look at him right now. It’s freaking me out because as angry as I was about him leaving, the excitement about seeing him again overflowed my heart with joy. Even if I knew it would be temporary. And I shouldn’t let myself get too excited about having him in my life again, because he could leave as quickly and unexpectedly as he came back.
“Why do you think that was?” I snap back as I throw a few things into my bag.
Shut up, Belén.
Quietly now, I aim for my bedroom door and pull it open, but Henry pushes it back, shutting it with a dry thrust.
“You should stay,” he says to my back. His tone is serious, on the edge of commanding, confirming me he’s not playing games. “You’re angry and tired, and we’re training tomorrow morning. You need to rest. Gemma will find a way to lure you into going with her to the party. You don’t need that right now.”
“Maybe I do,” I lie. “I slept a lot on the flight back. It’s basically lunch time in Beijing right now. I think.”
My mind is trapped in between time zones.
My second attempt at opening the door works. Henry doesn’t stop me this time. I walk out of the bedroom and make my way downstairs. He’s following me. Again.
Vladimir’s headlights appear on the driveway, so I approach the front door. The SUV is gone, which means my parents have left already. Good.
“Going to that party is not going to solve anything,” Henry says.
“I said I’m not going!” I tell him, frustrated but careful not to make eye contact with him. He has this power over me, and he knows that too well. If he locks his gaze with mine and takes a step in my direction, I know I might dismiss Vladimir on the spot and walk back inside.
I grab the door handle, and the smell of Liam’s flowers invades my nostrils. For a second, I hesitate, and I’m terrified Henry might be able to tell. Maybe Ishouldstay. I should call Liam, watch my tapes with Henry, and calm the fuck down.
“Bells.” I look over my shoulder, and Henry’s supplicating gaze makes me look away.
It’s so hard for me to deny him but I will.
“Stay,” he whispers.
Vladimir knocks on the door, so I open it and tell him I’ll be right out.
I’m leaving. Gemma’s waiting. I know she’ll make me feel better.
Henry wants me to stay, to keep talking, but I can’t. Not now. What Ineed is to get this suffocating weight off my chest and let it detonate between us. I don’t have it in me to hold it back anymore.
He needs to know.
“You leaving without saying goodbye, pushing me out of your life … that was the single worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” I confess.
His reasons might’ve been airtight. His life was complicated. But none of that changes the way it tore me to shreds.
More tears spill, hot and fast. “It hurts as much as realizing my mom probably doesn’t love me the way I wish she did.”
“Bells, I?—”
I lift my hand, stopping him. I’m not done yet.
“You wonder why I used to be happy and why I’m not anymore? That’s because you brought out the best in me.Youmade me happy. And ever since you left five years ago, I’ve been so goddamned rotten and lonely and angry and miserable. I became an open target for my mom, with no one to shield me from her the way you always knew how to.”
I’m waiting to see if regret will kick in, but it doesn’t. It feels good to get this off my chest, to finally tell him how I’ve felt all this time. I’ve always been open and honest with him, so why should I stop now?
“Then let’s be miserable together,” he says, holding out his hand. I glance at him, at his hand reaching for mine, at what he’s offering, even if I don’t entirely understand what that is. “Because I know there hasn’t been a single day I haven’t felt the same way since I left.”
