Page 128 of Meet Me at the Metro

I flinch.

There’s a hint of guilt in his gaze, but he extinguishes it within the dreadful seconds of silence between us and says, “I think we should take a break right now.”

I swallow the ache swelling in my throat. “That’s what you think?”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding his head, though I’m not convinced there’s any certainty behind the gesture. “I do.”

“You’re a liar, Theo. You’re a liar, and you know it.”

“I’m serious, Nora.”

“Look at me! Please! Talk to me. What is this about? You’re pushing me away, but why? Are you mad at me? Is this about Connor?”

“Let’s not do this tonight, alright?”

“I didn’t know about him and you. I swear, Theo,I did not even have theslightest cluethat he was your stepbrother.”

“It’s not about that. It’sthis,” he mutters, motioning between us. “It’s us. I can’t—I can’t do this.”

I shake my head adamantly. “You’re not pushing me away. I’m not buying into this bullshit.”

“It isn’t bullshit. Connor is right about me, you know. I push people away. That’s what I do. I pushed him away. I pushed Kim away. I pushed Millie away. I’ll push you away eventually, and I don’t want to fuck this up any worse than I already have, so I can’t do this.I won’t do this.”

“Why not? I thought we were moving past this. I thought we agreed to try and make this work, huh?”

“It can’t work.”

“Why not?” I challenge, blinking back the frustrated tears pooling in my eyes. “Why can’t it, Theo?”

“Because I can’t fucking live with myself if I hurt you, Nora!”

The rain starts to fall harder around us, dripping from the ends of our hair and soaking our clothes until the fabric sticks to us like a second skin. We don’t move out of the downpour, though. We stay as we are, staring at each other—quietly acknowledging each other’s existence.

“Then don’t hurt me,” I whisper. “Don’t push me away. Prove yourself wrong. I want to be here for you. I want you toletme be here for you.”

He swallows—so hard that it splinters my heart. There’s so much conflict in his eyes.

“You don’t have to feel bad about it, either.”

His shoulders deflate as he slumps back onto the burgundy brick of the building looming beside us—in relief or distress, I’m not sure.There’s nothing but the sound of our synchronized breaths and nature’s shower pouring around for a few moments until he finally respires, “I do.”

“Don’t,” I say, stepping up to him.

“I feel so bad about it that I fucking hate myself.”

I want to cry at the brokenness weaved in his deep, raspy voice. I want to replace every ounce of diffidence inside of him with my heart’s fondness for him.

I clutch his face in my hands, stroking his stubbled skin until he grows enough courage to look me in the eyes again. “You wouldn’t hate yourself if you saw yourself the way I see you, Theo.”

He melts into my touch, and warmth returns to my cold, goosefleshed body.

“Talk to me.Please,”I tenderly beg him.

He releases a shaky, trembling breath. For a second, I’m sure that he’s not going to say anything at all, but then he starts, “He was with him when it happened. Connor was with my dad when it happened. It should have been me, but it was him. It was him and—and—”

The rise and fall of his chest quicken, and I softly instruct,“Breathe.I’m right here. All night, remember? Just breathe, baby.”

As that last name falls from my lips, he completely crumbles. He starts to release a cry that I can tell has been locked up tight for years, and I let him. I hold him, cradling his head as he sheds his tears in the crook of my neck. I could collapse at the harrowing sound of his sobs, but I force myself to stand tall—remain unwavering for him.

---