I feel a thousand things. But I don’t know what to do with any of them.
“You confuse me,” I couldn’t help but whisper.
Alex turns slightly, glancing up at me.
“I do?”
I didn’t know he heard me, chewing my bottom lip, I nod.
“I don’t know what we’re doing,” I say. My voice is small and Uncertain.
He doesn’t reply.
We reach the stables. The scent of hay and earth settles around us. Alex helps me down Apollo gently and tells me to wait outside the stable as he takes Apollo inside to put him back in his stall.
I stand outside, wrapping my arm around my chest, looking out of the open field, unsure of everything. After a few minutes, Alex comes outside and is standing in front of me.
Without a word, he steps close and places his hands gently on my waist. I flinch—but not because I’m scared. But because every time he touches me, I feel too much. His fingers are warm and comforting.
My hands hover awkwardly by my sides. Then I look up, meeting his eyes.
“Do you regret what we did yesterday?” he asks quietly.
My heart slams in my chest. I blink. Then shake my head.
“No,” I whisper. I don’t even think I ever will.
There’s a pause.
“I know what I want,” he says. His voice is low. Steady. “I want to make you mine.”
That alone made my breath hitch.
“I’ve always wanted you, Lucas. And I know you know that.”
I do, but I don’t know why. I don’t know why he kisses me and calls me beautiful. I don’t know why he looks at me softly, like the way he’s looking at me now.
He leans in just slightly, like he’s about to say something else. But then he stops.
The silence stretches. He’s still looking at me. Through me.
“But you?” he finally says, his voice low like he’s seeing the inside of me. “You don’t know what you want.”
His words hit me like a storm.
I swallow, but my throat burns. I don’t say anything because I don’t know what to say. The truth isn’t always something you can’t argue with.
Because I don’t know what I want.
My body does. It aches for him. My heart does—it races when he’s near. But my mind? My mind is a cracked, flickering place that learned long ago that I am not meant to have anything good, and I am only meant to be like my mother, probably ending up like her.
His words are not meant to be cruel, but they bring me back to my senses. I’m not meant to be here, in this mansion, with his family, even with him. A filthy person like me shouldn’t be here. I look away from him, then I do something I don’t plan: I push at his hands, not harshly, but enough to make him let go.
His brows dip. “What is it?”
I shake my head, stepping back. My arms wrap around myself instinctively, like I need to hold something in before it leaks out of me.
“I want to go home,” I say, my voice small. Barely there.
