Page 112 of Love Marks
“I can’t do this right now,” she croaks out, not looking at me.
“But—” I stutter. “What is happening? Why didn’t tell me about your mom?”
“Yeah? Like you told me about paying her medical bills? Going behind my back with Joe to pay for it and pretending like it’s some fucking grant?” She snaps, her expression darkening.
Fuck.
No, no. The timing is all wrong. I’d planned to tell her about it myself…eventually.
“I should have told you, and I was going to.” She shakes her head and goes to move past me, but I hold my hand up. “I was just worried that you would be upset with me, like with the job, and I was waiting for the right moment—”
“I am upset. You lied to me. Would you have even told me about it if I hadn’t found out on my own?”
She shakes her head and sighs. “You don’t care about me. You just want to control me, just want someone to take care of, to rely on you, so you fucking made me rely on you.”
“No, Quinn, that is not it. I do want to protect you and take care of you, but it’s not about that.”
“It is.” Her voice quivers and I step towards her, wanting so badly to take the pain out of her voice. “Everything…” She slumps her shoulders. “You ruined everything.”
“Don’t—” I choke on my own words. “Don’t say that. Whatever I’ve done wrong, I want to fix it. I want to be there for you, whatever is happening with your mom—”
She stiffens suddenly and whips her head towards me. “I saw the folder, okay? You can stop pretending. Stop manipulating me. Stay the fuck away from me and stay out of my life.”
I stumble back. Her words feel like a physical blow. Manipulating her? Pretending? I don’t…the folder.
No, no, no.
I can’t believe it. I can’t believe this is happening. “You read it? I told you that was confidential—”
She cuts me off, seething. “Don’t do that. Don’t turn this around on me. A photo of me fell out of it, so I looked. I can’t believe I thought…” She breaks off and pushes past me and goes for the door with her keys.
I follow her, trying to get her to look at me. If she would just look at me, I could explain. I could fix this.
“It’s not what you think. Let me in, and we can talk. I don’t want you to be alone right now.”
She just shakes her head. “I really can’t. I need to sleep and shower and go back to see my mom and I just can’t handle this.” I go to speak again but she turns to me, her eyes cutting and sharp. “Just go, Wesley.”
“But—” I have to say it. I know it’s the wrong time, all wrong, but she has to know. I have to get the words out. She has to hear them. “Quinn, I lo—”
Her icy eyes meet mine again. “Go, and do not come back. I mean it, Wesley. We’re done.” She turns the lock, slides inside, and slams the door in my face, leaving me standing on her stoop with my heart in my hands.
I try to inhale. Try to breathe, but it feels wrong somehow. My heart is racing, her words echoing, rattling in my head.
We’re done.
I press my hand against my chest, rubbing the center, hoping that I can get rid of this feeling. This sinking, endless, hurt.
She didn’t mean it. Her mother is sick, and everything that happened tonight upset her. She’s been up half the night and the folder…
My stomach lurches. She really believes I’d do that? One letter, some photos, and she doesn’t think to give me the benefit of the doubt? To let me explain?
A sinking feeling settles inside me, a taunting voice repeating a chorus in my head: she doesn’t trust you, she doesn’t trust you, she doesn’t trust you.
Why should she? She’s always been too good, much too good for me. Maybe she’s finally realizing that the perfect Wesley Marks is nothing but a disappointment. Like my dad always said. I’m nobody. Nothing.
The thought settles somewhere familiar inside me, lodging itself there.
I am nothing.