Page 92 of One More Chance

“I think I could be,” he says, his words barely audible, something hovering just above a whisper.

I can’t fight the sigh I’m holding in my chest, shutting my eyes as I let it out. “I just can’t do this,” I admit. “I can’t be this. I’m not ready to be this.”

Jensen nods, hanging his head low, shoulders slumping more and more. “Okay,” he says. “All right. I get it.”

He wipes his hands down his face before finally looking up at me again. Several silent minutes pass before he speaks.

“I’m sorry I ruined our last evening,” he says. “I’m gonna sleep down on the couch. I’m sure you need some time alone. You take the bed.”

Jensen stands, collecting himself for a moment, hands coming to his pockets again. He walks toward the stairs as I wrap my arms around myself, covering my middle. I’m wearing nothing but lingerie and high heels and it seems so ridiculous now.

Did we just have a heated fight while I was half-naked? Suddenly, I feel the need to cover as much of myself up as I can.

I don’t have the strength to watch him. Listening to his footsteps behind me, I hear him getting further and further away. It’s only when I know I’m alone do I crumble to the floor. I can’t breathe. It’s as if this lace corset is constricting me. I rip at it until I’m lying on the floor in only my panties. I’m an idiot.

To make matters worse, I’m a crying idiot. I sob gently, careful not to make any noise that might carry downstairs. The last thing I need is for him to come back up here and see me sobbing and naked on the floor. Because that’s who I am. Raw to a point. Open to a point. Caring too much about appearances and expectations.

It’s as if I’m devolving right here on the floor, seeing myself for the first time in a new light. Is this stubbornness? Cowardice? A mix of both? Probably that last one.

When I finally manage to stand, I crawl into my side of the bed, hopeful Jensen will come up and get into bed later when he’s calmed down. But he was calm, wasn’t he?

I try to wipe the look of defeat in his eyes from my memory. I replay the scene again and again. When I tuck the blankets beneath my chin, his scent saturates my senses. Woods and spice. I dip my face, pressing it against the cover, inhaling deeply.

There’s nothing left for me to do but cry myself to sleep. I thought I’d gotten past this. I thought after all the nights following Charles leaving, I’d never do this again. I would never be here again. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. But here I am. Saltwater on my pillow. A deep sense of emptiness washing over me. All of my own making.

I don’t deserve one more chance at anything, least of all love.