Relentless(42)

“Myles’ family never had a lot of money. His dad was always too busy getting on with his new family, he never really supported Myles or his mom and two sisters.” He flips the top sheet and a floor plan of the house is laid out before us. “I’ve been designing this house for the past three years with the idea that one day I’ll be able to build it for them. Maybe then I won’t feel like I took away the one shot they had at a decent future.” He lets out a low laugh as he shakes his head. “My dad found these plans and now he’s holding my trust fund until I turn thirty so I can’t build it. He thinks it would be like admitting my guilt. He doesn’t understand that that’s exactly what this house is. It’s an apology and an admission. I can’t live with this anymore.”

He finally turns to me and I can see the agony he’s carrying. I draw in a shaky breath as he looks me in the eye, his eyes searching for a sliver of understanding. I want to tell him everything. He’s shared so much of himself with me. He needs to know the kind of person I am. He deserves to know the kind of person he fell in love with.

But I can’t.

I cover my face with my hands; afraid he’ll see the razors of shame shredding my insides. These jagged lies I’ve told myself for the past year have rested comfortably beneath the delicate skin of truth. I can’t allow them to pierce through to the surface. I can’t allow myself to become a bloody mess again.

I need to meditate.

I stand quickly from the sofa and his eyes follow me as I walk quickly toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I have to go.”

He darts toward the front door and blocks it off as I reach for the doorknob. “You can’t keep pushing this down or it’s going to burn you from the inside out. Forget the fucking bet. I don’t care about that. Just please talk to me.”

I stare at the buttons on his shirt. I rarely see him wearing his work clothes in his apartment. He usually changes before I make it upstairs. He actually wrangled Linda into giving me today, tomorrow, and Saturday off for my birthday. I’ve never had three days off from the café. Adam can convince just about anyone to do just about anything, but he can’t convince himself that he’s not to blame for Myles’ death and he can’t convince me to spill my guts to him.

“Fucking shit, Claire!” he groans as I remain silent. “You’re self-medicating with that meditation shit. You might as well be shooting heroin in your veins. You’re numb and you can’t even see it.”

“I can’t believe you would even say that.”

“Yes, your mother died of a drug overdose and it’s tragic and I wish I could take your pain and make it my own, but I can’t. And you have to understand that your mother loved you. She wouldn’t have been so careful about keeping you safe if she didn’t love you. She made a mistake, but that’s because she was sick. You’re not sick, Claire. You’re just heartbroken.”

I reach for the door and he pushes my hand away. “Please get out of my way.”

My whole body is trembling with all the horrible things I want to shout at him, but I can’t let myself lose control. His face is twisted with pity, but he doesn’t move.

“I’m not moving until you talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk. Please get out of my way.”

“No.”

I push him hard in the chest and he grabs my wrist. “Get out of my fucking way!” I try to wrench my arms free, but he pulls me against him so I can’t get any leverage. “Let go.”

“Is that what you want? You want me to let this go? You want me to watch you suffer like this? Because I can’t do it anymore.”

He lets go of my wrists and I’m stunned into silence. The one thing he wants is the one thing I can’t give.

“You think I can’t see it? You think I can’t see that I’m sinking like a stone and no one, not even you, can rescue me,” I whisper as I clutch my fists to my chest. “This was inevitable. You don’t want to know what I did. Trust me when I say that. If I tell you what I did you will never trust me again… and I don’t think I could handle that. So I guess it’s best if we just stop before we’re in too deep.”

“It’s too late for that,” he says, his voice sounding too thick. “I can’t believe you’re willing to throw this all away because you think I’m going to judge you or stop trusting you—especially after everything you’ve learned about me.” He reaches for my face and I swallow hard as I try to hold back my tears. “Look at this face.” He strokes my cheekbones with his thumbs and the first tear falls over the rim of my eyelid and races down my cheek. “How could I ever not trust this face? Or these eyes.” He kisses both my eyelids and my throat aches with all the words I wish I could say. “And these lips…. How could I ever curse a single word that comes out of these lips?”