Page 59 of The Consequence of Loving Me

My feet step back from her, my hands going to the top of my head and resting there. I make sure to take a deep breath before I respond. A million things go through my head. I want to lash out at her. I want to yell, scream, do something dramatic to let her know that no matter what happens between her and I that Selma and I won’t be getting back together—ever.

Three, two, one…

“Okay, first of all, this has nothing to do with my breakup with Selma. I told you, we aren’t—and weren’t—meant to be together. Simple as that. So, please don’t try and push me away because you think you’re the thing that’s standing between me and her. You’re a lot of things to me, Veronica, but the one thing you aren’t is the reason Selma and I won’t get back together.”

My chest heaves as I try to pull air into my lungs. “And second of all, yes, I want you. I probably want you more than I have ever wanted anything. But I’m not standing here asking for anything more than a night. Because I’m not used to this feeling. I don’t understand it and I’m just trying to work through it by allowing us to figure it out—together.”

“I can’t,” she mutters. With those two words, a tear runs down her cheek.

I want to wipe it away, to give her a hug or do something to console her. But I’m not perfect, and I can only take rejection so many times before giving up. My feet stay planted in their spot on the basement floor. I can still hear Aspen walking around upstairs, but I don’t let my eyes wander to the ceiling again. I’m solely focused on her, trying to read everything her body is telling me—the things her mouth refuses to speak.

“You can’t, or you won’t?” The words are quiet when they come out of my mouth, but they apparently still hit home by the way her head viciously starts to shake.

“Does it matter?” The blue in her eyes is crystal-clear when she looks at me.

I pull in air through my nose, my fingers threading through the top of my hair. I take a few steps away from her.

Space.

I need space.

I didn’t realize she had the power to break me yet, but here I stand with a gut-wrenching feeling in my chest and a sinking feeling in my stomach that feels a lot like breaking.

“No, Veronica. I guess it doesn’t.” I stare her down, giving her the opportunity to say something else—to argue, to change her mind—but she doesn’t.

She just stares at me, her cheeks wet with tears, not relenting.

I nod, coming to understand that maybe she’ll always be a what if for me. I slowly start to retreat to the basement stairs. I finally look away from her, unable to see her pain for another second.

This is where I normally give up whatever I want, just to make sure the other person is happy.

But here? I can’t do it.

I can’t be the white knight in this scenario—her savior. There’s too much at stake for me to risk in order to save her. My heart, namely.

So, I walk away from her.

I walk away even though it breaks me a little more to hear the quiet sob breaking from her throat as my feet hit the first stair.

I’m halfway up them when her voice fills the basement.

“I’ve already given my heart away once,” she says. “After pulling Connor’s lifeless body out of the water, I vowed I would never do it again.”

It’s quiet, so quiet I almost don’t hear it, but I do hear the emotion in her voice that sneaks through. The way it scratches with her words, the way the words drag out—painfully.

My forehead hits the basement door as I reach the top, trying to pull myself together enough to actually walk away.

My hand is on the doorknob when I respond to her. “I didn’t demand your heart. I just asked for a night.”

With that, I barrel through the door and rush to my room, where I slam my door behind me.

30

Maverick

Four days.

Four days since Veronica and I have uttered a word to each other.

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