Page 87 of Unspoken Words
He tossed his guitar to the side like a seasoned rock star, the wood-splintering noise making me flinch. My heart hammered in my chest, my hands shaking, my body hot.
“HOW CAN I SAY THAT?” I released the door handle and slammed my notebook on the table. “Becauseyougave up on us.” I pointed at him. “You gave up on us when you slept with Lilah.” I pointed at him again. “You gave up on us when you left me for her. And you …” My hand fell to my side. “And you gave up on us when you let me walk out of your life without even saying ‘I love you’.”
“I didn’t give up on you—”
“YES, YOU DID!” I threw my hands in the air and rested them on my head. “Why are you lying?”
“I’m not lying.”
“You are! You hurt me, Connor. You gave up. And you stopped loving me. It’s as simple as that.”
Connor swooped toward me, his warm, strong hands securing both sides of my face. “Ineverstopped loving you. And I never gave up. But I was young and stupid. And I was scared. All I did was what I thought was right.”
I whacked his stupid hands away and shoved his chest. “All you ever do is what you think is right. Have you ever considered that what you think is right is actually wrong? That you’re always wrong? Like now? Like inviting me here to work with you after everything we’ve been through?”
His thumb chased a tear down my cheek, and my eyelids fluttered before closing at the softness of his touch.
“You and I aren’t wrong, Ellie.”
“Yes, we are. I’m with Byron and you’re with Lilah. And you have a son. What’s done was done four years ago.”
“I know,” he said.
I sobbed and stepped back.
“But I’m not with Lilah.”
My eyes flew open. “What?”
“Wait! Who’s Byron?” He glanced over my shoulder as if Byron was there, waiting for me.
“I—I have to go.” I snatched up my notebook and made my way back to the door, securing the handle and turning it.
“Have dinner with me. Please?”
I pressed my eyes shut, the desperation in his voice too painful for me to keep them open. But then I remembered he was the reason for the pain. Him, not me. He’d given up on us. He hadn’t called, hadn’t chased me down, hadn’t begged me to come home and try to work through it all. He hadn’t done any of those things.
He’d been silent when he’d needed to speak.
“Goodbye, Connor,” I said, opening my eyes and leaving the room.
The door clicked shut behind me, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. My hands and legs were trembling, but that didn’t stop me fleeing as fast and as far away from him as I possibly could. I couldn’t be in that room with him any longer, because had I stayed, I would’ve eventually fallen into his embrace and never come out. I would’ve forgiven mistakes and forgotten the wrongs. I would’ve ignored all sense, because a love like ours ran deep below the surface.
Unseen.
Unknown.
Unspoken.
*
Connor was everywherethat nightwhen I rested my head on my old pillow, on my old bed, in my old bedroom. His face danced in the shadows and skated through my mind, his voice a whisper on the wind and the sweetest caress to my ears. When I breathed in, he entered my soul. Every time. Every breath. And when I closed my eyes, I felt his touch on my skin, in my hair, and feathered across my lips. He was everywhere, and I couldn’t escape him.
Groaning, I rolled over and reached for my phone to text Byron. I hadn’t spoken to him since I’d arrived, and he was probably worried.
Ellie: Hey. Arrived safely. How are you?
Byron: I assumed you did. Been busy preparing for lectures. How are you?
