Page 146 of Close Knit

At first, I thought she was just a distraction. A beautiful, maddening, way-too-good-for-me distraction. But Daphne’s become something else entirely—a mirror that reflects the man I’m not. A man who would worship and adore a woman like her. Who would succeed on his own two feet. Who wouldn’t have his shame attached to her accomplishments. Who wouldn’t need to save his relationship with his own team. Who wouldn’t need her to praise him into usefulness on the pitch.

She shouldn’t have to carry the weight of my burdens. Daphne deserves someone whole, someone who isn’t a work in progress.

“You deserve someone who isn’t a project, Daphne.”

“Everyone’s a project, aren’t they?” she murmurs, her thumb brushing away a tear I didn’t even realize had fallen. Her eyes are glassy and filled with a sorrow that cuts me deeper than any words ever could. I hate that I’m the one causing her pain again, but I should’ve never let it get to this point.

“You’re not listening,” I say, my voice rough. “I can’t be the man you need.”

“What does that even mean?”

“This whole year, all I’ve brought into your life is chaos. The tabloids, the hateful comments. You had to step away from what mattered to you because of me.” The words are a bitter pill I can’t seem to swallow. She’s too good, too kind, too perfect. “I can’t keep asking you to clean up my messes. I can’t rely on you to be the only source of happiness in my life. Because you do make me happy, Daphne. So incredibly happy. You’ve brought color and joy into my world, but without you, I don’t even know who I am.And I can’t do that to you. I need—” The words feel like shards of glass in my throat. “I need to figure things out on my own. I need to fix myself.”

“Hey, wait a minute! Don’t I get a vote here? Isn’t it up to me if I want you, flaws and all, even if you think you need a major renovation?” She tries to sound stern, but her voice wobbles.

I take a step back, my eyes tracing every detail of her face. “I’ve messed up with you once before. Twice, if you count me leaving after that first night. I can’t start something real with you until I’m a man you can be proud of.”

“What does that mean for us?”

“We’re done.”

“Can’t we talk about this?”

My heart clenches painfully. “I can’t say something I’ll regret.”

I turn away, my feet heavy. Each step feels like I’m abandoning the only anchor I’ve ever had. She’s the only one who’s ever made me feel like I have a place in this world, and yet here I am, walking away from the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But somewhere deep inside, I hope that one day I will be the partner she deserves.

Chapter 42

Cameron

Daphne’s gone.

Because of me.

I’ve been holed up in my apartment the past two nights, too afraid of being around her, of seeing her face, of wishing I could take back everything I said and beg for another chance.

Which turned out to be pointless, because when I went to practice today, Sven and Omar asked me why Daphne left. She texted them this morning, saying she was heading back to California. She said she loved London and wanted to stay, but she left because of what I did to us.

I never wanted this to happen, but maybe if we’re five thousand miles apart, I can’t ruin her life any more than I already have. Maybe it’s for the best. I can finally learn to stand on my own. The reminder of how lonely I felt when I was trying to do just that floats to my mind. I shudder at the thought and force my attention back on the road.

Rain pounds the windshield of my Stradale as I speed between Royal Albert and Royal Victoria Docks, engine roaring, wipers struggling with the downpour. My grip on the black leather steering wheel burns my palm.

Cameron Pathetic Hastings.

How could I have ignored my own fucking unresolved issues for so long? I did the right thing by walking away from her.

The thought doesn’t feel convincing, but I’m certain it’s true.

The radio crackles to life, a familiar melody cutting through the static as the streets blur past.

You’ll never be good enough. Be better.

The ghostly piano melody for “Bring Me to Life” sends chills down my spine before it’s drowned out by the crash of guitar riffs, the thunder of drums, and the scream of strings.

Save me from the nothing I’ve become.

I slam my hand on the dash as the car skids on a slick patch of water in the road. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

---