Page 50 of The Rebel

‘Actually giving a damn.’ I point to his heart. ‘And feeling something rather than pretending you don’t.’

‘You don’t know the first thing about me.’ His upper lip curls in a snarl as he rears back like I’ve prodded him. ‘I don’t feel a thing—’

‘Oh, yeah? Then what’s this?’ I swipe my phone to bring up the amended campaign, featuring a sidebar with the foster kids camp. ‘You want to help these kids in a way you wished someone had helped you, and that proves you care—’

‘Maybe about the kids,’ he yells, crimson creeping up his neck. ‘But what’s that got to do with you?’

That hurts. A hell of a lot. I want to walk out of here and not look back, like he wants me to.

He’s trying to undermine me, like Casper undercut me every chance he got during our relationship. Having a guy I actually care about treat me the same way…it kills me.

So I go on the offensive.

‘Is this how you were with your grandfather? Pushing him away until he had no choice but to let you go? If so, I feel sorry for you. You like to blame everyone for your misfortune rather than face up to your past and your abandonment issues with your dad and—’

‘Stop!’ He bellows, his face a concentration in devastation.

He’s hurting, an unimaginable pain that makes my throat tighten. Maybe I’ve gone too far but I had to try to make him face the reality that he has a woman who hates quitting, a woman willing to stick around, a woman who’s crazy about him.

But by the way he’s staring at me, he’ll never forgive me for verbalising my pop psychology in an attempt to get him to open up about his feelings.

‘Hart, listen—’

‘Get the fuck out of here.’

His outburst echoes through the room and I try to hide my dismay.

‘You don’t mean that,’ I say, doing my best to stay calm. I lay my hands out, palm up. ‘I care about you—’

‘What we had is called fucking. Don’t mistake it for something it’s not.’

He’s staring at me with barely concealed dislike and a tiny part of my heart cracks at that moment.

He’s gone too far and there’s no coming back from this.

‘That’s a low blow.’ I stand and take a few steps back, willing my feet to step and not run like I want to. ‘I pegged you for many things, a coward wasn’t one of them.’

I turn my back on him and walk towards the door.

‘Launch the website as we previously agreed.’

It’s a barked order from a man who has retreated emotionally and is treating me like the hired subordinate I am.

It’s not his fault I feel cheap and used, because we both agreed to a fling. But I felt the same way when I walked out on Casper: like I’d given him a tiny piece of my soul that I’d never get back.

‘Okay.’ My voice is amazingly calm considering I’m a wreck inside.

I continue striding towards the door. I need him to stop me, to hold me, to comfort me. To admit he’s made a mistake. To tell me he feels the same way I do. To apologise for being a cold, heartless jerk.

I will him to do it.

When he doesn’t, I know we’re officially over.

I wait until I reach the shadows of the towering palms outside my villa to let my tears fall.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Hart

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