Page 136 of Unspoken Words
“Damn it, Connor, we never could’ve just ‘picked up’ from where we left off. Too much has happened. Too much hurt.”
He turned around, his hand fisting his t-shirt, tears welling in his eyes. “This hurts,” he said, punching at his chest. “In here. We’re both right in front of each other, and I can reach for you but not touch you or tell you all the things I want to say. You’re here, with me, but you’re not, and it hurts. It hurts more than I can stand.”
“That’s why I have to go home. I have to clear my head and sort—”
“YOU DON’T,” he shouted. “YOU CAN STAY.”
“I CAN’T STAY.” Tears sprung from my eyes.
“Yes, you can. You don’t open that door. You don’t leave. You don’t—”
“CONNOR, HE PROPOSED!”
Silence split the air like a sword, the slash swift, cold, and excruciating.
“What?”
I slumped to the couch. “He proposed the day before he left.”
Neither of us moved nor spoke as we stared at each other until, finally, Connor choked out, “And you said yes?”
I thought about lying, about saying, “yeah, I did” because it would allow me to walk away and stop hurting him like he said I was. I didn’t want to hurt him just like he didn’t want to hurt me, but … I couldn’t lie. I couldn’t do that again, and I didn’t want to fuel a fire I knew would burn out of control.
“No,” I whispered, wringing my fingers.
He nodded but looked no less relieved.
“That’s why I have to go home and make it right.”
“But what does that mean, Ellie, to ‘make it right’?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that I broke Byron’s heart and I hate myself for it. He loves me, so much, and I broke him. I need to fix that.”
“Then go.” He turned back to the window, cold and dismissive.
I recognized the deceptive shield because I’d wielded it before.
“Please don’t be like this,” I said, standing back up and stepping toward him.
“Be like what, heartbroken that you’re leaving again?”
“You make it sound like I’m never coming back.”
Connor turned around and faced me again. “How do I know you won’t? It took you four years to come back this time, and that’s only because I tricked you into returning.”
“I’ll be back.”
“When?”
“WHEN IT’S RIGHT,” I cried.
He stalked toward me, heat flaring his eyes as his hands captured my face and his lips smashed against mine. I stumbled back with the force, but his arm secured me, strong and familiar. Heat flooded my body and erupted like a volcano, the taste of him no longer a memory I’d desperately tried not to forget.
Not that I ever could.
But I did forget to breathe.
And just like that, Connor Bourke once again stole my air.
