"But fuck my feelings, right?" I bit my lip hard after that question burst from me. Shit. I had to stay calm. Yelling and hurling accusations at him wasn't going to fix this mess.
His devotion to his daughter was a part of the reason I loved him so much. Because I'd daydreamed about how he would treatourchildren.
"Cam—"
"I'm sorry," I whispered. Pressure built in my chest, filling my lungs and squeezing my heart. "That was unfair. I'm just..." I trailed off. I didn't want to admit that this was close to crushing my heart. That this didn't feel like a temporary solution, but the prelude to a permanent break.
And this was also exactly what I was afraid of. I'd opened my mind and heart to him and he was turning away. Now, I would have to be a grown-up and see him on Sundays, around town, or when he brought Jacks in for ice cream. And I would have to act like it wasn't killing me inside each and every time.
Brody's hands landed on my shoulders, holding me tightly. I realized then that I'd closed my eyes.
"I'm not breaking up with you, Cam," he insisted. "This isn't forever."
"So you're going to call me at night and maybe go to lunch with me when Jacks is in school or doing something else?"
Brody didn't answer, but that was an answer in and of itself.
"That's what I thought," I said quietly. The pressure in my chest swelled until I couldn't contain it anymore. I took a deep, gasping breath and my eyes filled with tears. "So tell me again how this isn't a permanent break."
I shrugged off Brody's hands and struggled to hold back the tears. I wanted to scream and rage and tell him how unfair he was being. I didn't think this was about Jacks at all, but whatever the reason was, he wasn't willing to tell me.
Somehow I found the strength to stem the flood of tears. I inhaled and the air was sharp in my lungs. Everything burned. My heart. My lungs. My belly. The pain overwhelmed my body, but there were no wounds.
I thought I'd been hurt by the men in my life before, but this was different. This was more than hurt feelings or anger. This was true heartbreak.
"Do me a favor, Brody. Give me a couple weeks before you bring Jacks into the shop. I don't want her to think that I'm angry with her."
"She wouldn't—"
"She might if I turn around and walk away at the very sight of you," I said. "When you're ready to be honest with me, I might be willing to listen. But I don't believe for a single second that you're making a clean break like this because you don't want to hurt Jacks. If that were the case, you would still spend time with me when she wasn't around. That's a convenient excuse. Whatever this is, you're lying to me about it."
Brody's silence was my only answer.
"Okay, then. I guess we know where we both stand. Just don't expect me to be waiting here if you change your mind."
I backed into the house and shut the door between us. I couldn't stand to look at him anymore.
I twisted the deadbolt and locked the doorknob. Then I leaned my head against the cool wood and tried to catch my breath.
I heard Brody's muffled curse through the door. He sounded as upset as I felt, but I couldn't bring myself to care.
My worst fear had come true. I was in love with a man who didn't want me, but I would have to see him constantly because he was practically a part of my family. I couldn't avoid him. I would have to see him and spend time around him on a regular basis.
I would have to watch as he moved on, even if I hadn't.
I tried to breathe quietly, to control the sobs rising in my chest, but it was as impossible as stopping a tsunami. I gasped, the sound incredibly loud in the stillness of my house. Then the tears erupted, hot and fierce.
I collapsed to my knees, my forehead still pressed to the door. I had no idea if Brody was still out there but it wouldn't matter if he was. There was no way I could stop crying, even if I knew for a fact that he was listening to every sound.
Fuck it. Let him hear. Let him know how badly he'd hurt me. I hoped the knowledge hit him square in the chest.
Brody was a good guy to the core. Knowing that he'd caused me pain would eat at him. And it was petty as hell, but I was glad. If he wasn't as heartbroken as I was, at least he would feel some small measure of it.
Somehow I managed to make my way to the couch. I curled up in one corner, my knees to my chest, and I cried until I was nearly sick. My eyes felt swollen and my head pounded.
As the storm of tears stopped, I hobbled to the bathroom in the hall. My arms and legs were stiff, as if I'd been sitting on the couch for hours rather than minutes.
I couldn't look at myself in the mirror when I flipped on the lights. I didn't need to see what agony had wrought on me. Instead, I grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter and blew my nose. Then I washed my face with cool water.
It helped, but not enough. My eyes still felt raw.
There was only one thing for me to do at a moment like this.
I called my best friend.
