She purses her lips and straightens her shoulders as I take another step closer.
“Yes,” she replies. “And for a long time, I thought it was my fault, that I was unlovable, but it isn’t me. I have my faults and I’ll admit I need help, but I’m worthy of love, Joaquin. I am,” she insists as her voice breaks. “You’re the one incapable of love. Receiving it and giving it.”
“You got it all wrong, Pilar,” I growl, reaching her. “I love you and I hate myself for allowing that to happen because it doesn’t matter how deep my love for you runs, I’ll still find a way to break you. In my world love isn’t enough, it’s a casualty and you deserve more than that.”
I pause to stare at her. There have been many nights when I wanted to tell her how I felt, many nights I clamped down the urge. So long as I’m connected, I’m no match for the lost dreams of the boy I used to be. It would be selfish of me to think otherwise.
“You need to let me go,” she whispers, tearing her eyes away from mine. I watch as she wipes away her tears.
Let her go.
The thought is crippling.
“And what happens when I let you go?” I reply hoarsely, my voice sounding broken even to my own ears. “Where do you go then? Do you go score some drugs and pretend we never happened?”
“Don’t do that,” she cries.
“You need help, Pilar.”
“I’ll get help,” she says, lifting her eyes. “I can kick the drugs, Joaquin. I need to learn how to beat you, though, because loving you is my greatest addiction.”
The greatest and apparently the deadliest.
“I do love you, Pilar,” I murmur, losing my will to argue. As much as I want to see her through her recovery and prove how much she means to me, there’s truth in what she says and any way you slice it, the outcome is still the same . . . I’m not good for her.
A whimper escapes her lips, and she quickly tears her eyes away from me, moving toward the bed to grab the rest of her belongings. I reach out, taking hold of her wrist, and close the distance between us, pressing my front to her back. She goes still against me and I bend my head, touching my lips to her shoulder.
“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m sorry. For everything. For the choices I made and the consequences you suffered as a result of them. All I want is for you to be happy,” I whisper. “And if the only way you can get there is by walking away from me, then I’ll let you go.”
She doesn’t turn around, nor does she respond. I release my hold on her and take a step back, waiting for her to make a move. A moment passes and I watch as her shoulders shake as a sob wretches free from the back of her throat.
It would be so easy to reach out to her.
So easy to take her back to bed and make her forget.
So fucking easy.
She hitches the bag over her shoulder and starts for the door without ever looking back. I follow her out of the bedroom and through the massive apartment, waiting . . . hoping . . . praying she’ll turn around and change her mind. That I’ll miraculously be a man worthy of something more than the blood on his hands and sins webbed to his soul.
Fumbling, she pulls the door open and halts. Not because she’s had a change of heart, but because she collides with Rocco. Dressed in the same clothes from last night, looking even more disheveled than when I left him, he steps out of her way.
“Well, good morning to you too,” he grunts as she brushes past him.
I take another step and then another, ignoring Rocco’s perplexed expression. The elevator pings and as I reach the door, I watch her step onto it.
And just like that.
The broken girl breaks the already broken man.
CHAPTER 5
JOAQUIN
“Are you just going to stand there, staring at the elevator doors?” Rocco questions, snapping me out of my trance.
I turn to him abruptly and narrow my eyes.
“If you had paid attention to anything but your dick, you’d know her leaving me was a pivotal moment.”
