Page 21 of Choosing Me

“Good,” he murmurs, his hand inching towards me before he stops, pulling it back. I watch as his hand clenches so tightly his knuckles turn white. Just further proof that something’s not quite right.

Calvin’s brow is furrowed, his eyes dark, like he’s been up all night deep in thought. That doesn’t bode well for me. My stomach begins to grow sour, wondering what’s going on. Have I done something wrong? Have I pushed him too far? Fuck, I hate this.

“Areyouokay? You seem off.”

Calvin runs his fingers through his long hair, tugging through the few tangles he’d gained while laying down with me. “I’m fine,” he says, his smile so obviously forced it hurts to see. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

“Anything I can help with?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I just want you to focus on feeling better.”

“Calvin,” I say seriously, sitting up a little straighter. “What’s going on inside that pretty head of yours?”

When I call him pretty, his eyes dart away. The tension in the room rises so high I’m sure I could cut it with a butter knife. My inner alpha whines at the way Calvin is obviously uncomfortable, wanting to fix whatever’s going on. Everything inside of me is telling me to reach across the bed and hold Calvin’s hand, to pull him in and hold him close, but he’s always been the one to lead this relationship, so I wait.

“Just feeling a bit out of my depth at the moment,” he finally says, letting out a long sigh as he rubs tiredly at his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“You say that now.” Calvin finally looks up at me and the look in my eyes leaves me breathless, dread welling up inside of me. Bile rises up into the back of my throat and I do my best to swallow it down. My breath stutters in my chest, like someone is sitting right at the center of it, making it harder for my lungs to properly expand.

“What’s going on?” I ask, looking down at my hands. “I’m sorry if I was too much of a bother, Calvin. I know you didn’t sign up to take care of me last night.”

“No, it’s not that,” he says right away, finally reaching over and touching my wrist. His blueberry scent is sour as he tries to get his emotions sorted out, the smell making me want to wrinkle my nose in displeasure. My inner alpha is rearing his head, begging me to make his scent smooth out once more, to fix whatever is broken. “I don’t mind helping out, Wilson. I uh,” he pauses, swallowing thickly, “I care about you and don’t like seeing you in pain. I’m glad I could be here and help out.”

“Then what’s wrong?” I ask, my heart jumping up into my throat when he says he cares for me. Could that mean? No, I try not to let myself even hope.

“I just think we started this whole arrangement with a solid goal in mind,” Calvin says slowly. “This was supposed to be blowing off steam. Now it feels,” his eyes dart around as he tries to find the right word, “now it’s messy.”

I turn my hand over so I can hold his hand back. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Calvin pulls his hand away and I instantly miss the touch. My heart is shattering with every passing moment. “It already is,” he confesses softly, just barely loud enough for my ears to pick up. His scent is starting to turn darker, like blueberries that are starting to rot. My own scent is matching it, turning moldy and sad.

“What can I do to fix this?” My inner alpha is crying out, demanding I try to fix what I so obviously broke. We can’t lose Calvin.

“There’s nothing to fix. And before you ask, it’s not you, Wilson. You’re wonderful and I care about youso much.”

“Then what?” I demand, needing to know, holding onto every single word Calvin says.

“It’s me. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t getattached. Someday you’re gonna ask me to choose and I’m sorry but every fucking time I’m gonna be selfish and choose me.”

I open my mouth a few times but no sound comes out, processing Calvin’s words. They ring through my head over and over. “Calvin,” I start but stop, still trying to find the words I wanna say to him. “I’m not sure what to say.”

“It’s okay,” he says with a humorless snort. “I’m fucked up.”

“You’re not,” I say without even thinking, needing him to know he’snot. “It’s okay to choose yourself. I would never ask you to change.”

“Maybe not right now but someday you’ll want commitment and I’ll freeze. I wanna be able to pick up and move at the drop of a dime. I want freedom to do what I want, when I want it. I don’t want pups, or the picket fence, or the stereotypical happily ever after. I want to get drunk at the arcade on a weeknight and then bitch about my hangover the next day.”

“What makes you think you can’t have that with me?” The room goes silent and I let out a long breath, the air in my metaphorical sails going out. “Calvin, if you choose me, I’m not asking you to give up what makes youyou. The only thing I want is for you tobring me along.”

Calvin stares down at the blanket, running his finger against it in random patterns. When he looks up his hazel eyes are watery. “I’m sorry,” he says again and I’m not sure I’ve ever heard a more heartbreaking phrase in my entire life. “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, his words coming out shaky. “It’s better this way, Wilson. Better to break this off now than later when we’re both in too deep.”

“What if I’m already in too deep?” I ask, trying my best to keep my voice steady despite the way my heart is shattering inside of my chest. I’m just barely holding myself together. “What if I’m already in lo--”

Calvin cuts me off. “Shh, don’t say it,” he says, a single tear falling down his cheek. “Please don’t say it.”

I bite my bottom lips, nodding my head. “Fine.”

---