Page 78 of The Fall

“And what about us now?”

Wiping the matching tears off my face, I straightened my shoulders. “We tried.”

“No. Fuck no, Dallas,” he protested as he came toward me.

“I can’t be with you, not if you look at me like that. It was different when you didn’t know about…what happened.”

“And you think that our relationship would’ve worked with you keeping this from me?” he asked, incredulous.

“I don’t want guilt or pity. I don’t want to know how sorry you are. And I want you to stop fighting a lost cause.” The hole in my chest expanded, and I squared my shoulders, ready to finally face what I’d done. “I’m sorry I made it so hard on you when you came back. I’m sorry I was so awful to you and hard to get along with. You thought what we had was beautiful. I did, too, except while you were gone, I made it ugly.” My voice cracked as I bit back the rest of my emotion. “You need to go, Dean. You need to stop fighting for what we had and realize the way you left it isn’t the way it remained. I’m not the woman you left.”

His eyes were red-rimmed as his tears fell silently. He sat for several minutes, just looking at me. I kept his gaze as long as I could until I cowered away, walking to my bedroom and shutting the door. Minutes later, I heard the front door shut and collapsed in a heap on my bed.

The next morning, I woke up to the smell of coffee. I hurriedly opened my door to find Dean sitting at the kitchen table, impeccably dressed, eating a bagel, and reading the paper.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.

“Coffee is…Fuck” His words were harshly exhaled due to my clothing—or lack thereof. I realized I was standing in my camisole and underwear. Smoldering eyes prevented me from saying anything else as he appraised me from head to toe. I had forgotten to lock my door last night, and I damn sure wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

“Dean—”

“I’m not giving up, Dallas.” He leaned forward in an attempt to press his lips against mine. I pulled away before he could make contact.

“I don’t trust you.” There, take that.

“I want you back. I’ll win you back. You want to be dated—I’ll do it. You want to take things slow—I’ll be patient. I thought about it last night and know I went about this all wrong. You were right. I expected too much.”

“It’s still too much. Too much water under the bridge,” I argued, feeling less and less confident as he towered over me. “The truth is, I’m afraid of me when I’m with you. When I love you, I’m toxic. I don’t want to go down that road again.”

“I’ll wait,” he promised, gently brushing my hair away from my face. “I’ll wait for you. I think I owe you that much.”

“For what?”

“Until you realize we’re still beautiful,” he whispered, drawing me in. I breathed in his clean scent and damn near went to my knees. “I can’t give you back the years I missed, but I can promise you, Dallas—we will have more.”

“Stop!” The soothing tone of his voice would be my undoing. “Don’t promise me anything. Don’t even speak to me about a future. This is over, this whole sick twisted fucking mess I made. I want it over, and I want you gone right now.”

“I’ll wait,” he said, not faltering in his determination. He straightened his tie, then walked out the door. Pouring a cup of coffee, I sat and stared at my closed front door. Dean was naïve to think that time could fix us. He should have figured out already that time was what had ruined us.

“So there’s no hero for you?”

“I am my own hero.”—Room 212

Dallas

“Good morning.” Greeting Beatrice seemed to be a feat in itself. I just wanted to find a nice dark hole, crawl in it, and live there.

But life doesn’t give a shit what mood you’re in or if your world is caving in. Its demands are never-ending, and you have no choice but to get through it—ready or not. I’d already learned that the hard way.

“What happened?” Her tone was cautious, unlike the happy-go-lucky pain-in-the-ass confrontational voice she usually used. Her concern put me on edge.

“Nothing,” I said defiantly, refusing to entertain that my newest breakup should affect my life in any way. Concern clear in her features, she gave me an encouraging smile. My eyes narrowed.

That son of a bitch.

“So, he calls you now to keep an eye on me? I suppose he told you everything?”

“Dallas—”