Page 58 of Ditching the Dragon (Fated Dates)

I eat up the distance behind her and catch up, but I realize with my hand out to grab her that I’m doing this all wrong.

If I snatch her, haul her backward and force her into our room, every fear she has about me will be realized.

The epiphany is painful.

Because I have to let her go.

If I restrain my Annie, it’ll only make her hate me for real.

I can’t just let her wander around. She’s critical. Vital. There is no part of me that’ll let her out into the world without protection.

But it takes the distance from the bedroom door to the bottom of the stairs to realize that for at least a little while, that can’t be me.

And it aches. The pain is a very real, writhing mass in my chest. The urge to bond with her wails, but I chain it away.

It hurts now, but it will hurt far worse if she rej—if she refuses me.

I don’t want to hurt her either.

The idea of her looking back at me with fear and true disdain is unbearable.

I trail her down to the front door but stop her before she leaves.

“I’m letting you go,” I tell her softly.

She stops mid-stride, as if my words have halted time.

“You’re going to let me leave,” she comments, her tone tight and incredulous.

“It’ll hurt. If you need that, I can do it. I’ll be waiting here for you when you’re ready.”

Please be ready soon.

I eye Violet past her, and her shoulders slump.

That’s right, Violet. I’m a possessive asshole, but I also love her. If she needs time, I’ll give it, even if the thought gives me physical pain.

Damn it, I love her.

Vi seems to grasp all of that without my saying it.

“I’m not coming back.”

My Annie stutters through the words, and even I know she doesn’t mean it. It’s a lonely ray of hope in an otherwise-nightmarish darkness.

“I’ll be here if you change your mind.”

We both know you will.

She turns to leave, but before she can, I add one more request.

“Don’t change the phone. Please,” I say.

She doesn’t respond, but there’s the barest nod, and I know it’ll have to do.

And my Annie walks through my doors and out into the world.

Without me.

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