Page 51 of Ablaze

I shake my head, my heart pounding through my chest. Yes, it’s true that I haven’t climaxed, but it’s not necessarily his fault. Things have just been off between us, and my head is not in it. But it’s not like he’s tried that hard to focus on my needs, either . . .

“It’s not like tha–”

“No! Don’t tell me what it’s like.” He takes a step forward, closing the space between us. “What else have you been lying about, Mala?”

“N-nothing!” My eyes bounce between his steel-set ones. What is he talking about? “Warren–”

“Liar!” He booms, making me jump. “Look me in my eyes and tell me you haven’t lied about your feelings for the guy you call your best friend. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love him. That you haven’t wanted to fuck him. That you haven’t imagined him fucking you when I’m the one inside you!”

My breath stalls and I try to reach for him again. “That’s . . . that’s not–”

“I said, don’t fucking lie to me!” Warren roars, shoving his hand into my chest before I can finish my sentence. I’m pushed so hard against the wall behind me that all the air leaves my lungs. A pain shoots up my shoulder and bicep as my groan entangles with the thud of my body against the wall. I swear, it feels like the whole room shakes, or maybe that’s just my blurred vision.

As if he’s just realized what he’s done, Warren’s eyes widen with shock. He studies my slumped form against the wall, almost like he doesn’t understand how I got there.

He takes in the towel hanger behind me–the one he shoved me into–and scurries forward. “Oh, my God! Fuck! Oh, God. I’m-I’m so fucking sorry, Mala!”

He tries to touch my shoulder and I jerk back, every muscle in my body contracting at his nearness. The throb inside my shoulder and bicep feels connected to my heartbeats, pulsing with every breath. And yet, I feel breathless, like I can’t get enough air in to keep me standing, to keep me alert.

“Mala–” he tries again, raising his hand toward my hair, but I turn my head.

My mouth sets in a way I’ve never felt it do before. “Don't. Touch. Me.”

A feeling of emptiness threatens to ensnare my insides. How could someone who claims to have cared for me–loved me–hurt me in such a vile way? How could I have compromised everything–my self-worth, my dignity, and my body–for him?

How could I have been so blind?

Warren must see the hurt and fury coupling behind my eyes because he raises his hands. “Okay . . . okay.” His chin wobbles as the weight of the moment finally takes him under. “Mala . . .” His eyes pool as he takes a step back. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just . . . I lost control. It’s been a lot for me to come to terms with over the past two weeks. Hell, I think I knew you loved him even when we met two years ago. I just didn’t want to believe it. Or maybe I thought I could change your mind. But the way he sang for you . . . the love I saw in your eyes for him–”

He stops himself, taking in a ragged breath before swiping a tear from his cheek. “It’s not an excuse. Of course, it’s not an excuse for what I just did. I’m so fucking sorry, Mala. I’d never mean to hurt you.” He sobs, his shoulders shaking. “I’d never hurt you.”

But he did.

And even though I’m brimming with anger and loathing for him–and to some degree, myself–I can’t completely deny his words. He may not have meant to hurt me, but he did.

Call me stupid, but I believe him.

He’s always been a little forceful–gripping my hand or my hips tighter than I’d like when he’s trying to persuade me on a point–but never violent. I’ve always let the other things slide, including his need to change me–to dress me up to look good next to him–because I saw the decent man he was. The caring man.

The man who went out of his way to bring me dinner when I had a late night at the café. The man who left me little notes in our kitchen to tell me he missed me, that he was thinking about me. The man who rubbed my feet at the end of a long day.

What happened to that man?

Because the man I saw tonight was anything but. The man I saw tonight made me recoil, like I was staring into the eyes of a complete stranger. A rabid beast.

I pull myself up, holding my arm with my hand and recite my mantra.

You’re fine. You’re alive and safe. Just count your blessings and put one foot in front of the other.

I’d forgotten to take my bracelet off before I went to bed and seeing it now, wrapped around my wrist, has bile crawling up my throat. I unclasp it quickly, as if not doing so will burn me, throwing it on the ground as far away from me as I can.

I promised myself not to be bound by fear a long time ago.

I may still be a work in progress, but I refuse to be bound by new fears. I refuse to bend to new shame. Nothing and no one will ever have that kind of power over me again.

My breathing stutters right along with my words, but they’re both as unwavering as they’ve ever been. “We’re over, Warren.”

Chapter Sixteen

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