She crosses her arms over her chest; she’s wearing a pink sweater with blue jeans, and she looks beautiful. “I have nothing to say to you, Kane. I’ve already explained.”
I step forward, and her eyes widen. “Let me in, Charity. I’m not leaving till you talk to me.”
“But I don’t want to talk to you. Please just leave me alone,” she pleads, her eyes now filled with unshed tears.
I scratch my three-day-old growth and think about what to say or do to get her to listen to me. I can be forceful, but forceful is not what she needs right now.
“Look, I know you’re hurt and in pain, but I want to be here for you, baby,” I say, stepping closer and cupping her face with my hands. Tears fall down her cheeks, and I hate that I’ve made her cry. “Please let me in, let me share your pain with you. You don’t have to be alone right now.” She begins to sob, and I pull her into my chest, cupping the back of her head. “Shush, it’s okay, baby, let it out.”
She continues to cry, then when I least expect it she pushes away and wipes at her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “No… I’m sorry, Kane, but you need to go. Thank you for riding all the way here to check on me, but I’m fine. My parents will be here in a couple of days, so they’ll be around to look after me.”
Her eyes look everywhere but at me, then finally settle on a spot on the ground. Everything in me is telling me to push my way in and force her to talk to me, because at the end of the day, I want her. I love her, and it kills me to see her going through this pain alone. But I don’t know what else I can say to get through to her. It seems she’s made up her mind and isn’t willing to budge.
“So, this is it? Just like that, you don’t want me anymore?” Feeling my stomach drop at those words, I take in a shaky breath.
She finally looks up, pain etched in her face. She cares, I know she cares, but right now her pain overrides anything—or anyone. Including me.
“Yes, Kane, this is it. I already told you back in New York that I don’t want to be with you, so please, will you just let me be. I’m sure you and Honey can pick up where you left off.”
Those words hit me like the lash of a whip. How could she think I’d go back to how things were, after meeting someone like her—making love to her—and knowing deep down now what love really feels like. Even the feelings for Jasmine I’ve carried around all this time are nothing compared to what I feel for Charity. I’ve never experienced this before, being so hung up on a girl.
I step back, a pain washing through me that has nothing to do with the bruises I still carry from my fight with Blake. She’s done—doesn’t want me. I have to deal with that. I move closer to her once again, and she steps back. I grasp her face in my hands and press my lips to hers. She doesn’t respond or open up, and the rejection stings. I don’t give up, though. I lick at the seam of her lips and bite down on her bottom lip, and finally she opens her mouth. I treasure the moment—I need to remember her taste, her warmth, the way her body feels against mine. My tongue seeks out hers, but she’s strong, she’s holding back. I wrap my arms around her and slide my hands down her back, resting them on her ass and pulling her in closer to me. I don’t hear her familiar sigh, or the sounds of longing she makes when I touch her; I hear nothing, and if that isn’t a cockblock, then I don’t know what is.
I pull back. Her lips are glistering from our kiss, but she doesn’t say anything. Tears well in my eyes but I don’t let them fall—I’m a man, the last thing I want is to break down in front of her. “Okay, baby, I’ll go. I’ll leave if that’s what you want.”
She looks into my eyes then nods. She whispers, “Thank you.”
I lean down and kiss her, needing one last taste, then pull back and drop a kiss on the top of her head. I turn around, not looking back because if I do, I’ll barge through that door, I know it. The sound of the door closing reaches my ears, and when I reach my bike I straddle it, place my shades on, and drive to the only place I know where I can dwell in my sorrows. The local bar.