Page 38 of Rectify

It’s like I’ve travelled back in time, where the people are the same, what we’re doing is the same, but I’m this version of myself. Misunderstood, broken, and lost, I’m the woman who has no idea what she wants. But after everything I’ve been through, I do know that when he touched me, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

A loud, continuous knock at my bedroom startles me. There’s no one else it could be, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to answer. The thought of him in my doorway after what we just did stokes a fire in me that I am too tempted to let burn.

He needs to leave.

I want him to stay.

I shouldn’t take this any further.

Just for tonight.

The back and forth in my mind is constant, my default setting returning. It’s all I ever do, and right now I’m so fucking sick of it. I wish I knew how to switch it off. I wish I knew how to just be present.

The pounding gets louder, and my heart takes on a frantic, matching rhythm.

Just talk to him, Sasha. He isn’t going to touch you unless you tell him to.

Picking myself up off the floor, I grip the door handle. Mentally coaching myself on how to deal with Jay. The slightest glimpse of my reflection stops me heading out. A contradiction to the conflict inside me, I look relaxed.

There are no bags under my eyes or worry lines on my face. My cheeks are pink, and my lips are still red and swollen from all the kissing. I’m glowing from the inside out, and I’m still reeling from the fact that Jay Evans was the one to light me up.

Quickly, I make my way to him, opening up the door enough that we’re standing face to face, but still leaving a significant distance between us.

His expression is nothing like the hungry, crazed man from earlier. He’s composed, and somewhat cautious. Like he’s approaching a wild animal, and he has no idea how it’s going to react. I hate that he has to be like that around me, but I’m aware I haven’t given him any other choice.

I trail down the rest of his dishevelled appearance and stop when I notice he’s holding a full glass of wine. I flick my gaze between his face and the drink. “What’s that?”

He shrugs, handing it over to me. “It looked like you might need it.”

Much to my dismay, he’s right. I take a soothing sip before thrusting the glass back in his face. “I don’t think I’m the only one.”

He raises his forearm, leaning it on the door jam for support before taking the wine from me. As he throws back the remaining liquid, his eyes implore more from me.

An understanding, or maybe some kind of explanation. Something to move past this awkward impasse. “I’m sorry,” I offer. It doesn’t feel like the right thing to say, but I do anyway.

His face is pained as he shakes his head. “I don’t want an apology.”

“I do—”

He cuts me off. “We’re going to do this your way.”

“What’s my way?”

Stepping into my not so subtly created bubble, he runs his knuckles down the side of my cheek. “You haven’t changed, Pretty Girl.”

Against my wishes, my head angles into his touch, and my lids fall at the softness. “Is that good or bad?”

“Neither.” He tucks an invisible strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re still the same girl, fighting those same insecurities. Letting me lead you one way, only to run the other after it’s done.” He tips my chin up, forcing me to open my eyes. “No matter how badly I want to fuck you, right now. I’m not that guy anymore.”

I sputter out my question, too focused on the lingering flutter between my legs. Too overwhelmed by how well this stranger can read me. “What guy?”

“The one that’s going to turn your personal battles into public wars. I’m not here to hurt you.”

I anxiously bite the inside of my cheek. “Then what are you here for?”

“I told you, I wanted to apologise.”

I didn’t like living through it the first time, so, I’m hesitant to do this with him. “I don’t want an apology, Jay.”

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