Page 83 of Jersey

"It was—"

"A mistake," I repeat, swiping at tears as they fall from my eyes.

I truly went into his room knowing if anything happened between us that it was closing a door. It only made me want him more. Knowing about his loss made me want to cradle him to my chest and promise him that everything would be okay, but how narcissistic does that make me? Thinking I could ease any amount of pain after losing two children and his wife in a house fire was beyond egotistical.

"You were different," I manage. "I hate touch, but I craved yours. I wanted your hands on my body. I felt like I needed it as if I wouldn't survive without it, and I stupidly fed that need without consideration of how it might make you feel. I placed expectations on you without considering what your own needs might be. It was wrong. I can't make you care for me the way I care for you, and I don't even know if it's true care, Roman, or if I'm just clinging to someone who can touch me and not make me freak out for the first time in my life."

"I care for you," he whispers as if the confession pains him, as if it's a betrayal of the memory of his family, as if he hates me because he shouldn't.

Ipause, waiting for him to continue, but he offers nothing else, and I've spent too much of my time imagining and wishing things were different. As humans, we tend to learn very early in life that we don't always get what we want. Things don't always work out the way we'd like them to. This is no different, no matter how much the realization hurts.

"It doesn't matter," I say, finally capable of locking my teary eyes on his. "I want to be loved and I know you can't give that to me."

I swallow down the pain of finally saying it out loud, feeling like a knife has been plunged into my chest when he doesn't correct me.

His care could simply be the same concern he'd have for any other person he helped. I could easily be someone on the side of the road with a flat tire, not a woman he has been inside of more than once. There's nothing special about me at all, and I have to be okay with it. My expectations of what I want in life aren't something I can drop at his feet and have hopes about. It wouldn't be fair the other way around if I were the one not reciprocating his feelings. If anything it would make me more like the man who followed me home, and that thought makes my stomach turn.

I do think I need to spend more time listening to my head rather than my body. Clinging to him just because he doesn't make my skin crawl seems like bottom-of-the-barrel expectations for myself, and do I know him well enough to care for him on more than a skin-deep level?

Different parts of my being want to argue both directions, and I’m not sure which one would cause me the least amount of pain.

"Zeus told me about your family," I say, hating to pull this out right now, but I know it could create enough distance between us that I could manage to take a full breath. "I know there are some things people just can't get over, and it isn't fair of me to be upset with you over how you process your journey with grief."

His jaw clenches, and I kind of feel bad that Zeus may inherit some of his anger.

"I no longer feel safe in my home," I continue. "And while I need to move, I feel as if a fresh start is what's best for me. It's early in the planning. I'll let Nolan know when I have more concrete plans."

"Caitlyn," he whispers again, sounding even more broken than he did the first time.

I'm in no position to concern myself about how this man feels. I have enough of my own troubles to work through.

"As I discussed with Nolan and Aspen, I will find a replacement therapist for Eli. Children are very resilient and he'll be fine. Please move so I may leave."

My heart cracks open a little further when he wordlessly steps to the side, pulling open the driver's side door for me before walking away.

Despite having trembling hands and a foot that barely manages to stop shaking long enough for me to accelerate out of the parking lot, I feel resigned to what I'm facing, a move to a new city and letting go of a man I had no business wanting in the first place. I hold my head up a little higher with each mile I put between my car and the Cerberus cabin.

It all comes crashing down when I turn into my driveway. I hate the sight of my house, and that kills me. I worked very hard to make it feel like a home, something I was proud to come home to after a long day of therapy sessions. I felt safe here... until I didn't, and if it weren't for Kiva being inside waiting for me, I don't know that I could climb out from behind the wheel.

I glance around the yard, trying to determine if anything is amiss, but other than the snow dragging down one of the branches, threatening to snap it on a nearby tree, everything seems completely normal.

My watch doesn't buzz when I step on the front porch making me feel like a fool because I never armed the security system after getting frustrated with the notifications when I was out shoveling snow in the driveway.

I can't imagine the argument and harassment I'd get from Roman if he knew what I'd done. It was enough to get reamed for the windows and then the smoke detectors.

I unlock the front door, waiting to be welcomed by Kiva but she isn't there to let her familiar yip out and demand for dinner.

Unease settles inside of me. She's been getting slower in recent days, and I'm wondering if she isn't nearing her end.

"Caitlyn, baby. I've missed you," I hear before I can even step inside and pull up the alarm system application on my phone and rearm it.

I gasp, looking up into cold eyes I never thought I’d see again.

Chapter 34

Jersey

There hasn't been a shortage of regrets in my life. I think every day brings some form of wishing something was different.

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