Broken:Flirt New Adult Romance(42)

"'Kay." He's fiddling with his cell phone and not even looking at me.

I bite back a sharp retort and mentally count to three, giving him a chance to pick up on the fact that he's being an ass.

One, two, three . . .

"Hey," he says, still not looking at me. "I ordered the DVD set of The  Bourne Identity series and it came yesterday. Want to have a marathon  after we've showered?"

I wait. He still doesn't look up.

Okay. That's it.

I snatch the cell phone out of his hand so that he's forced to look at  me. Instead of looking apologetic, he looks puzzled, and that is so much  worse.

"No, I don't want to have yet another endless movie marathon, Paul. Nor  do I want to spend all freaking day reading, or take another long walk  that's just the two of us. I don't want to continue my chess-playing  lesson, I don't want to try out the new audiobook subscription you got, I  don't want to try my hand at video games, and I don't want to go to the  gym again."

"You said you liked chess," he mutters.

"This isn't about chess! Or spy movies! It's not about whether or not I  enjoy reading by the fire with you, which I do. It's that this isn't  healthy! We can't just stay locked up in here forever."

His eyes darken, and the wary confusion is replaced by defensive anger and stubbornness.

I start to panic a little, although there's definitely still mad in  there too. With narrowed eyes I say, "Do you ever plan to take me to  dinner, Paul? Are we ever going to go on a vacation, even a simple  weekend getaway?"

His jaw tightens. "Olivia-"

"No, wait," I say, holding up a hand. "Let me ask the question in a different way. Are we ever going to leave this house?"

He says nothing, but his blue eyes stay locked on mine, steady and completely unrepentant.

"Oh my God," I say, taking a step back, feeling a little stunned despite  the fact that the writing's been on the wall since day one. "You have  no intention of leaving this house."

He looks away.

"Ever?" My voice cracks.

"Look, why don't we go to the Cape? My dad has a house there, and-"

"Let me guess," I interrupt. "It's completely secluded."

"It's private," he amends.

"I can't live like this!" I explode. "I can't spend my twenties holed up on the middle of nowhere."

Paul stands, glowering down at me. "Since when? You knew exactly what  you were getting into when you came here. Hell, it's why you came here,  isn't it? To escape the world? To escape your guilt? And now that you've  forgiven yourself and seen that your ex-boyfriend is just fine without  you, you're changing the rules?"

"Yes! That's how it works, Paul. You deal with shit however you need to, and then you get over it. You move on."

"I have moved on." His arms fold over his chest.

"Bullshit." I jab a finger at him. "I thought you'd healed, but really  you've just added one more item to your recluse's collection. Me."

He doesn't answer, and I let out a crazed little laugh. "You know, I was  actually naive enough to think that I'd helped you. I let myself think  that I'd successfully pulled you out of your little pit of despair. But  it's the other way around, isn't it? You've merely pulled me into your  vortex of fear and isolation."

He reaches for my arms, but I pull back, and he rubs a hand across his  eyes. "You have helped me, Olivia. Immensely. But that doesn't mean I'm  ready to go face the world and deal with the pointing and the staring  and the pity."

"The only one doing any pitying is you. News flash, Paul: the rest of  the world won't care what you look like if you don't care."

"That's naive."

"Okay, so some people will look twice. Some might whisper. But none of that matters."

"Says the girl with the perfect, gorgeous face."

"Fine," I say, throwing up my hands. "Go ahead and hold that against me.  That's a good one to hold in your back pocket to fuel your hate fire.  Whenever you get close to living a normal life, you can just remind  yourself that you have scars and nobody else understands. Is that the  plan?"         

     



 

"You don't get it!" he shouts. "Don't pretend like you understand!"

"I'm never going to understand what you've been through, Paul, or how  you feel, but I do understand that the only person in control of it is  you. And you're choosing the wrong path."

He sneers a little. "So what was your big plan, that we'd move to New  York together and walk hand in hand down Fifth Avenue, looking at the  Christmas lights?"

I suck in a little breath, because actually that is a daydream of mine.  It doesn't have to be Fifth Avenue, but yeah. Sue me. I picture walking  hand in hand with the guy I love around my hometown. Showing him where I  grew up, where I had my first kiss, taking him to my favorite cupcake  shop.

But I'm an idiot. He won't even go to the movie theater.

He takes a long breath, clearly trying to get hold of his temper. "I'd  never hold you back, Olivia. You want to go into Portland with Kali? Go  for it. You want to go to New York every other weekend? Do that. Go get  your hair done, browse the bookstore, and see whatever movie you want."

"Alone," I clarify.

He shrugs. "Or with friends. Whatever."

"But not with you."

His jaw tenses and he looks at his shoes. "Not with me."

"Ever?"

He meets my eyes then, and what I see breaks my heart.

"Got it," I say, swallowing around the despair. "So those are my  options. I can live in the light without you, or stay here in the dark  with you."

Paul opens his mouth as though to protest, but then realizes the truth of what I'm saying. He slowly nods.

I close my eyes, trying to block out the pain, trying not to hear the desperate way he whispers my name.

He reaches out again, but I step back, and I see the flash of hurt on  his face before he carefully lets indifference settle over his features.

Yeah, do that, I mentally sneer. Go ahead and retreat. It's like all of the progress we made never happened.

"How long have I been here?" I ask, as much to myself as to him.

He shrugs. "A little over three months."

I nod, mentally counting how much time's passed.

Long enough for fall to head toward winter.

Long enough for Paul to abandon his cane and his limp, and long enough  for him to sit facing me in full daylight without trying to hide his  scars from my view.

Long enough for me to realize that what happened with Michael and Ethan doesn't make me a horrible person.

Long enough for me to fall hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Paul,  even though it's becoming painfully clear that the feeling isn't mutual.

But most important to him . . .

"You've fulfilled your father's requirements," I say with a sad little smile. "I've stuck around three months."

His face contorts in anger. "Don't."

"Congratulations. You get your inheritance, or your blank check, or whatever it is you were out for."

"Stop. That's not why-"

"Then why, Paul? Why have you kept me around all this time? Why have you  pretended like you're fully human, when clearly you're still operating  as half a man?"

He blinks, his head jerking back a little at my cruel words, but I don't  take them back. I want him to hurt the way that I'm hurting. I want to  hold up the mirror and force him to face the coward that he is.

"I don't want you to go," he says roughly, moving quickly and pulling me  to him before I can put distance between us. "Is that what you want to  hear? You want to hear that I want you? That I need you? Because I do,  Olivia. I need you."

I place my hands on his chest, pushing slightly even as my eyes fill  with tears. "I know." My voice cracks. "That's why I need to go. This  isn't right, Paul. Not for either of us. I thought you'd gotten rid of  your crutch when you got rid of that damn cane, and when you lost some  of the anger, but really you just replaced the old crutch with a new  one. Now I'm the crutch."

He shakes his head, not understanding.

I go up on my toes, pressing my lips to his, needing to touch him one last time.

Then I step back.

"I love you, Paul, but I won't live for you."

"Olivia!" His voice is desperate now, his face anguished, but I keep  moving backward, even as the tears flow in earnest now down my cheeks.

"Goodbye, Paul."

I walk away then. I've done everything I can for Paul Langdon.

The rest is up to him.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Paul


"You'll be okay, Mr. Paul."

I'm pretty sure that Lindy is reassuring herself more than me. I cling to her words just a little bit anyway.         

     



 

"Yes I'll be fine, Lindy," I say, forcing a smile. That's something I've  been doing a lot of lately. Forcing smiles. That's when I even bother  to try.

She puts her hand on top of a fat pile of papers. "I've pulled out all  of my easiest recipes. Stuff you can make on Sunday to have leftovers  all week, dinners you can make with pantry ingredients, and of course,  don't rule out breakfast for dinner-you make good eggs."