Page 21 of To Hate You

“You already have.” Her voice cracked, her words riddled with animosity slowly turning into hurt. It stung. It fucking ached hearing her say it even though I knew it to be true. The moment I decided to leave while she was sleeping so soundly in my arms, I knew I’d hurt her more than she deserved in one lifetime. But my past left me no choice. After having the fear of God forced into me the day Oakley took her, I knew I was risking too much by being with her.

She was risking too much.

I glanced down at her tied feet. “You going to run if I untie you?”

“Yes.”

“You going to assault me if I untie your hands?”

“Yup.”

I snorted, reaching for her feet, and easily sliced through the rope. She didn’t move at all; her body and every muscle rigid as I leaned forward. But I wasn’t prepared for her familiar sweet smell, breathing in those warm vanilla notes that emitted a heady, sensual scent that made me acutely aware of just how much my body had been aching for her.

To untie her hands behind her back meant I had to inch closer—so fucking close I could feel her breathe, see her chest rise and fall. I was aware of every little fucking thing about her, the way her red curls fell in disarray, kissing her face like golden strands of silk. How her cheeks flushed with the perfect glow of pink, the veins in her neck pulsing beneath her flawless skin. It was the most inappropriate fucking thing, but I was so damn hard for her. I wanted to take her right here. Right now. But I knew my level of asshole would skyrocket if I kissed her, and one simple taste would be enough for me to lose my fucking mind.

She closed her eyes, and I couldn’t stop looking at her, her lips parted. “Noah.” She whispered my name so fucking softly it reached deep into my soul, and I could feel it touch the darkest parts of me. For a moment, I allowed myself to forget the shit-show that surrounded us, touching my palm to her cheek, only to witness her shudder as if she had been waiting for my touch an entire lifetime. My heart ached thinking of the day I left her.

I could watch her sleep for hours, her rhythmic breathing the best sound in the world. There was something soothing about having my arm draped around her waist, feeling the subtle movement of her body as she slept. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to wake her because I wanted to stay like this with her forever. I felt content. At peace. As if the shit-storm that happened today with Oakley was just a fucking nightmare. As if I didn’t fear the worst during the time she was gone while I frantically searched for her, praying to God that I wouldn’t lose her too.

But no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that leaving was the worst thing I could do to her, deep down, I knew that it was the only thing I could do right now. All my fears about what might happen if I stayed, about how having me in her life placed a target on her back. It left me no choice. And the more I thought about leaving her behind, the harder it became to just get the fuck up and walk away.

There was no choice to be made. I had to do the right thing. I had to protect Sienna, even if it meant breaking her heart...and destroying mine.

I pulled her close, her ass against my crotch and her back against my chest. Her hair smelled so fucking good; her rich vanilla scent took me back to all the nights we had shared, consumed with passion, high on sex, and wrapped in silk sheets. What I wouldn’t give to be able to have that with her for the rest of my goddamn life. Who knew when I drove through those gates in my truck I’d finally meet the woman who would make me feel again? A woman who forced some light into the darkness that had suffocated me for years. And now...I had to let her go.

I nestled my face against her thick, silky hair, inhaling deep, wanting to take in as much of her as I possibly could. My arm tightened around her waist, and I suppressed a moan at the feel of her soft skin against my fingertips.

It was a type of agony I had only felt once before in my life as I pressed a desperate kiss against the back of her head, knowing that I had to let go. With every second that brought me closer to the moment I’d leave her behind, fragments of regret sliced my heart into bitter fucking pieces. God, I wanted to stay. I wanted to keep her in my arms and never let go.

As if she could hear my thoughts, sense my struggle, Sienna stirred, her body moving against mine. I remained still, closing my eyes. I knew that if she had to wake now, she’d convince me to stay. To give us a chance. And if I had to explain to her why I had to leave, she’d still tell me to stay so we could fight the demons of my past together. But I knew there was no fighting it. There was only running, and I could never do that to her. Force her to run with me because of something I had done.

No one else would suffer the consequences. No one. Not again.

I tried to take a deep breath, but the air caught in my throat as my heart cracked. I had fought this connection we shared for so long. I tried to ignore and deny it. But ultimately, there was no fighting what we had. No denying that this woman was the life my decayed heart needed. It gutted me to know that I could never give her what she deserved. A life without fear. A life where she’d never have to look over her shoulder. A life where she could be loved the way she deserved to be loved.

My chest ached with the knowledge that there was a man out there who could give her the world. That man just wasn’t me.

It could never be me.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into her hair, breathing through the pain that throbbed in my gut and clenching my jaw to stop the ache. With a last, deep inhale, I eased my arm from around her waist and held my breath as I slipped from under the sheets. I dressed quickly, quietly gathering my things.

Slipping on my jacket, I stood by the window and peeked past the curtain down at the cottage, the lights and trees casting moving shadows. Between those walls, I found a reason to exist again, and that reason was now sleeping soundly in her bed.

I glanced at her, the sheet draping perfectly down the arch of her side and up the curve of her hip. My chest ached, my heart fucking screaming at me to reconsider. To rather get back into bed and hold her than walk out that door and break her. But unfortunately for my heart, my resolve to keep her safe was stronger.

I walked around the bed and stood over her, drinking her in, committing every inch of her face to memory. I wanted to make sure I’d never forget her. Never forget the way she looked, the way she smelled, the way she tasted. But, the longer I stood there, the weight of my decision grew heavier, and I knew it would eventually pull me down. Drown me.

God, why did it fucking hurt so much? Why, after all this time, after all the pain and torment, would I find someone like her only to have to give her up?

The curse of my fucking life.

My eye caught sight of a pencil in the top drawer of her bedside table which hadn’t been closed properly. I opened the drawer, taking out the pencil and a piece of paper. It weighed a ton in my hand as I stood there thinking of all the words I could write—words my soul wanted me to put on that piece of paper.

Dear Sienna,

I should have known it would end like this. Me hurting you was inevitable, and I’ll never forgive myself for not stopping it from happening.

I tried to stay away from you, but my attempts proved futile. The connection between us was a tangible thread that kept me tied to you, and I was too weak to fight against it.

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