Page 30 of The Consequence of Loving Me

For some reason, it sends a shock through me—something a guy in a relationship shouldn’t be feeling.

There could be a thousand people staring at us in this library right now, and I wouldn’t care.

I will rip this truth from her no matter what it takes, no matter who is watching.

“Whose eyes are they?” I know the moment it leaves my mouth that I have finally asked the right question—or the wrong one. Because we’re both staring into each other’s eyes, I can see the moment my words register within her.

They flash with despair.

With guilt?

She tries to step back, but she can’t. We’re in a corner, with nobody around and no space for her to retreat. She has the bookshelf against her back and me in front of her, and I will not waver.

It’s silent for a long time, both of us still staring at the other, testing to see who will be the one to break first.

“Connor’s.” It comes out a whisper, it’s so quiet.

If we weren’t in a library or if I wasn’t so close to her, I wouldn’t have even heard it. “Who is Connor?”

“Connor is my boyfriend.”

“You have a boyfriend?” I ask, bewildered by this information.

“I did. He died.”

A breath escapes my body, loudly and uncontrollably. I feel like the biggest dick in the world. I’ve made her tell me this secret of hers, expecting it to be something entirely different. I didn’t expect her to have lost somebody so close to her. She’s told me from the day we met that she wasn’t looking for something serious—ever. I thought it was because some douchebag broke her heart, but the little amount I thought I knew about Veronica was all wrong.

“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. I’ve never had somebody close to me die. I haven’t ever had to face death, and I’m not sure what the appropriate way to respond is when someone tells me they’ve lost someone.

She steps closer to me. Those damn boots are on her feet again, making her already tall frame even taller. We aren’t completely eye-to-eye, but she’s definitely close enough to look me dead in the eye.

“Don’t be sorry, Maverick. I was the reason he died.” She stands there for a long moment.

I can’t estimate how long because my mind is too busy processing what she just said.

Just when I finally have my thoughts together enough to ask her what she meant, she steps away from me and disappears into the shelves again.

This time, I don’t chase her.

18

Veronica

Three Years Ago

“Do you love me?” I sit in the passenger seat of my car, tears streaming down my face. I don’t dare look over at him. I can’t let him see the tears rolling down my cheeks. I look out the window, at all the happy beachgoers. Even though the sun is setting, there’s still a fair amount of people spread out along the shore.

“Of course I love you. Why are you even asking?” He reaches over to rest his hand on my knee, and squeezes—a silent plea for me to look at him.

But I don’t. “I saw the way you were looking at her.” I try to hide the hurt in my voice.

“Looking at who?”

I don't answer, in disbelief that he doesn’t even know who I’m talking about.

“Damn it, Veronica, look at me.” His hand lifts from my knee and gently forces my chin to face him.

Luckily, the tears no longer fall. All that’s left is anger. “You know who!”

---