Page 100 of Broken Dream
For what feels like forever, we just exist. The silence is deafening in its intensity, broken only by the sound of our ragged breaths.
I don’t know how long it lasts—minutes? Hours? All I know is that time seems to stand still. We are two bodies pressed together in my bedroom, the outside world forgotten.
Slowly, the reality of what just transpired begins to seep in. I’ve slept with my teacher. Again.
What would my mother say?
Worse, what would Aunt Melanie say?
I know better.
A wave of guilt washes over me, but it quickly subsides, replaced by a sense of contentment that I’ve never known before. His arm is draped over me, possessive and comforting at the same time.
“Angie,” he eventually murmurs against my skin.
“What?”
He rolls over in bed. “I have to go.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jason
For a moment, Angie looks at me like she’s going to say something but then seems to think better of it.
I move from the bed and dress as quickly as I can.
I’ve used her.
I’ve used her to sate my own desires, to escape from the troubles plaguing me.
I force myself not to look at her as I button my navy slacks. I know what I’ll see—confusion, hurt, maybe even a glimmer of understanding. But I can’t face it. Not right now. I’m not sure what’s more frightening—the fact that she might understand…or that she might not.
She remains silent as I button my shirt and put on my jacket. My chest aches with a dull throb of guilt and regret that intensifies with every passing second. But beneath the guilt, I feel relief. Relief that the fire burning inside me has been extinguished. At least for now.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, though I’m not sure why.
For using her? For leaving?
Or perhaps for everything?
No response. Did she even hear me?
Maybe not.
But the silence doesn’t fool me. I feel her gaze on my back.
It’s heavy, questioning. It’s tangible, almost physical, like a hand reaching out to stop me. But I’ve built walls around me for a reason. Walls that are meant to keep everyone out.
Without another word, I make my way toward her bedroom door, my heart pounding. I pause, hand on the doorknob.
From behind me, I hear her soft whisper. “Jason.”
I don’t turn around. I can’t.
“Would you like me to let your dog in?” I say, facing the door.
She pauses. “No. I can let her in. Thanks, though.”
