Dane(31)

Answers I couldn't give.

Because my heart was in my throat, waiting for her response.

I felt dizzy.

I couldn't breathe, think, or speak.

"What's this?" she asked in such a tiny voice I barely heard it.

"A resignation form." I knew I had to give her more than that, but I  couldn't find the words. Rejection colored her expression, and I wished I  could clear it away. All I had to do was say something, but all my  words were tied up in fear.

Fear of her saying no.

Fear of reading it all wrong.

Fear of making a mistake.

"Why are you giving me a resignation form?"

I begged her with my eyes to understand. "Because I want you to sign it. I want you to resign."





13





"Is this because of yesterday? Because of what I said on the beach?  That's not fair, Dane!" Eden's soft tone became harsh and full of  emotion, raising an octave with each sentence. "I've told you before I  don't want to quit. Now you're forcing me to resign?" Tears filled her  eyes as well as her words.

I tried to reach out and touch her, but she flinched. I needed her to  understand, but for some reason, I couldn't gather the words to  construct the sentences I'd said to myself moments before. To correct  the confusion. All I was capable of doing was opening and closing my  mouth without producing a sound. I was desperate to reach her, to  clarify what I meant. Desperate to stop time so I could collect my  thoughts and explain enough to calm her down so she could hear me out.

But nothing worked.

"You said I was your employee and you were my boss, and we'd keep our  personal lives out of the office. I'm sorry, Dane. I'm sorry I asked you  about Gabi. I was concerned … that's all it was. I swear. When I walked  into your office this morning, you looked like death. You were obviously  distressed, and I … I won't ask about her again. I'll be completely  professional from now on. No more personal questions."

"It has nothing to do with that." The words rushed out in a frantic attempt for her to hear me.

She paused and blinked away more tears. "Then what does it have to do with?"

"The rules." It made sense in my head, but as I spoke the truth-in  nothing more than an insecure whisper-I realized how confusing it  sounded. I wished I could run back into her office and start the  conversation over differently. I closed my eyes and shook my head,  trying to put all the pieces in place, but it didn't work. When I caught  her stare once more, I realized I'd only succeeded in making things  worse.

Confusion marred her forehead and panic widened her eyes. Rivers of pain  lined her face, and it felt like I'd been stabbed in the heart. Her  whole body shook, and all I wanted to do was hold her. For the first  time, I wanted to take her in my arms and make her understand. But I  knew she'd only reject me.

In a meek voice, she asked, "What rules? What did I do?"

I focused on the resignation form clutched in her hand, held to her  chest, and immediately knew I had to say something. I had to make this  right before everything went wrong. I reached out for her again, faster  than she expected, and she took a step back.

"Eden." I dropped my arm and pleaded with my eyes. Begged her to see the  truth in them. I needed her to know my intentions, but I was having a  difficult time forming the words. I knew what I wanted to say, what she  needed to hear, but fear had wound itself so tightly around me, I  doubted every word that came to me. "That's not what I meant."         

     



 

"You gave me this form and told me to sign it. You asked me to resign,  saying something about rules. If you're firing me, then I deserve an  explanation as to why."

I shook my head and stepped toward her, knowing she didn't have much  room left to retreat. I didn't want to corner her, but I couldn't take  the chance of her running, either. "I'm not firing you."

She held up the paper and waved it in my face. "Well, this form you shoved in front of me begs to differ."

"It's a resignation, not termination. It's completely up to you."

"You know this is my dream job. I love the work I do. Why would you think I'd want to leave?" Her gaze searched the room. "Why?"

"Because there are rules about dating associates. As long as you work  for me, I can't be with you. And, my God, Eden … I so desperately want to  be with you." I took the final step to close the distance between us,  and to my surprise, she didn't move away. "There's always been something  about you, but I've excused it and tried to ignore it. I can't ignore  it anymore, Eden."

"Is this why you left Gabi?" Her question was hesitant.

"No," I answered quickly before she could come to any conclusions on her  own. I should've known this was how it'd seem. And I desperately needed  her to know how wrong she was. "I swear to you, Eden … my decision to  leave had nothing to do with you. I didn't even realize how badly I  wanted to be with you until a few minutes ago." I shook my head and  tried again. "I mean … I think I've always known, but I could never admit  it to myself."

"I'm confused."

I grabbed her hand and held it between us. "You care enough about me to  ask me how I'm doing. To ask about my day and check up on me when you  can sense how stressed I've been. You take the time to see me when no  one else does. I seek you out, make up excuses to text you after work  because I feel different with you. I feel content … and I can't even  remember the last time I've felt this way. But you do that to me. You  put a smile on my face. My heart dances to the sounds of your laughter.  I've always known these things … but I'd convinced myself I could never  have you. Because I'd made a commitment, and I had to honor that. I  couldn't turn my back on … her."

She released my hand and reached up to hold my face. Her palm was soft  and warm. Comforting and gentle. She touched me as if it were second  nature to her-as if we'd been doing this our whole lives. "Are you ready  now to tell me what happened?"

I kept eye contact with her as I tried to organize my thoughts into some  kind of explanation. "When we were in high school, Gabi's next door  neighbor raped her. The things he did to her were horrible and  disgusting. That was the start of her downfall-the part of her past I  was never able to tell you. And it was what produced my need to protect  her, because she couldn't protect herself."

Her hand went limp on my cheek, so I covered it with mine and held it there.

"That was one of the reasons I felt I couldn't leave. He'd broken her.  And she was never the same again. He was arrested and sent away to  prison. She was seventeen and he was twenty-three. When he was finally  released from prison, he couldn't lead a normal life. What he'd done  followed him everywhere, and he was condemned by everyone."

"Good, he should be," she commented.

I shook my head and watched the confusion set in her eyes. "He killed  himself the other night because of it. Because he was unable to  assimilate. And he deserved that. He never should've gone to prison. He  never should've been labeled a sex offender-because he never did it. She  confessed to me this morning that she'd made it all up. She ruined that  man's life with a lie."

Her eyes grew wide and her red lips popped open. "Why would she do that?"

"I don't know," I answered, raking my hands through my hair. "I didn't  ask. I just packed a bag and got the hell out of there. I gave her until  Sunday to be gone, to get out of the condo. I never want to see her  again. I never even want to hear from her again, so I'll probably never  know what made her do something that vile and disgusting."

Eden's hand slid from my face to my chest and pushed me back a step.  "That's all very sad, and my heart hurts for you. I also feel sorry for  Gabi-there has to be some reason for her to lie about something like  that. But with what you've told me about her depression and never being  able to fully climb out of her own hell, it all makes sense. I'm sure  holding in that secret, knowing what she did to that man's life,  couldn't have been healthy. I'm sure she's lived with the pain of that  for years, on top of everything else. But I have to be honest with you,  Dane. I'm not a rebound girl."         

     



 

"I know you're not." I huffed, hoping I'd be able to explain this  correctly so she'd see how much I meant it. "I was with her for all the  wrong reasons. I stayed with her out of guilt for something that never  even happened. I loved her, yes … but not the kind of love relationships  should be built on. Not the kind that binds people together for  eternity. What you and I have isn't a rebound. It's not me jumping from  one girl to another. It's me being where I want to be." I glanced away,  unable to look her in the eyes as I said, "If you don't feel the same, I  understand."