Page 61 of Bleeding Hearts

ME:

Sure. Everything okay?

She doesn’t respond, and that doesn’t quell the anger building inside me. I knew something was bothering her. There was a shift she couldn’t conceal when she walked into the station last night. Her eyes gave her away. The warmth behind them had turned to ice and I couldn’t figure out why. Guess I’m about to.

The doorbell rings and I throw up my hands. She has a fucking key. One she’s used multiple times. So why is she ringing the damn doorbell?

Pressing my palms into the vanity, I stare at my reflection. The tension in my shoulders builds. The next time I look at my reflection, the stress lines and dark circles under my eyes will have resurfaced. As they return, I feel the familiar wave of exhaustion—a heavy weight on my chest, a dull throb in my head—and the raw, exposed feeling of emotional vulnerability. I slam my palm against the vanity, knocking over a cup as the vibrations of my anger spread.

It was foolish of me to believe I could change her mind. She warned me, and I didn’t listen. My ego got in the way, told me that if I just showed her how good we could be together, she’d let me in, and we’d live happily ever after.

Bullshit!

Let this be my final lesson in love and happiness. The two cannot exist in my world and it’s time I face the facts and stop tying to find either. I’m doomed to be a miserable son of a bitch for the rest of my life. Might as well get used to feeling like I do right now. Tense, angry, and alone.

The doorbell rings again, and I don’t bother putting on clothes. With the towel still wrapped around my waist, I exit the bathroom and rush downstairs. When I reach the front door, I yank it open. My perpetual frown is back where it belongs, as I stare at the woman I want to strangle.

Bethany stands there, arms crossed, wearing her best armor. Cat-eye glasses sit atop her head, her hair pulled back except for bangs that partially cover her eyes. Sporting one of her cherished long dresses, this one dark green, with a sweater jacket draped and fastened once across her shoulders. The tips of her black painted nails are chipped, a sign she’s been nervously chewing on them since last night. A habit she does when she’s overthinking, just like she is now as she takes me in.

Her eyes are filled with lust. It’s obviously clouding her brain, keeping her well thought out speech from slipping fromher lips. She better have a good look, because if she’s about to do what I think she is, it will be the last time she’ll get to.

I glare at her, a cold expression on my face, stepping back and making a sharp gesture for her to come inside. “What did you want to talk about?”

Coming back to her senses, her gaze drops as she walks past me and into the living room. “You can get dressed first. I’ll wait.”

Oh, hell no. I’m not about to make this easier on her. She can say what she feels needs to be said while I’m tempting her with my body, one I know she has trouble resisting.

With my arms crossed, muscles bulging, I don’t move. “I’m good. Go on.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Averting her gaze, Bethany turns to look out my window, facing the backyard instead of at me. “This isn’t working for me.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” My calm tone is a deceptive mask for the anger that burns within. “Why?”

“Because I am. Do I need a reason? I told you I wasn’t a relationship kind of person. But you wouldn’t listen.” A barely perceptible turn of her head reveals the unshed tears welling in her eyes; their silent weight speaks volumes. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

A laugh, loud and unrestrained, burst from my lips. It’s a laugh that lacks any humor.

I’m so tired of this game.

Fuck it.

“That’s the line you’re going with? The old, it’s not you, it’s me? Well, I call bullshit. I think you’re scared. What happened last night that has you running with your tail tucked between your legs like a frightened animal?”

“Nothing.” She spins to face me fully now. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and if anything, last night gave meclarity and showed me I’m not built for this. There are too many innocents who can get hurt, and it’s better to walk away now.”

“For who? For you?” Wanting her to feel the raw, burning anger that vibrates in my bones, I take a step closer. “Because it sure as hell isn’t better for me, or my girls, or your boys.”

With a sharp intake of breath, she crosses her arms tightly, her jaw clenched as she grits her teeth. Her eyes, hard and unwavering, bore into mine, while she bluffs her way through this. “For everyone.”

“I never thought of you as a quitter.”

That riles her up and has her close to yelling. “I’m not a quitter.”

I scoff. “Sure fucking seems like you are.”

“Well, I’m not. I’m a realist. Let’s be real. The lifeyouwant me to have isn’t the oneIwant.” Her voice grows louder, as if that will help me understand. “I don’t want this. Why is that so hard for you to accept?”

Words aren’t going to help me. So instead of using my words, I go for something else. I cross the room in five enormous steps and haul her into my arms, crashing my lips to hers. She resists me for only a heartbeat before she lets me in.

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