I watch as he runs a hand through his hair and cranes his neck this way and that. I move behind a tree, trying to hide myself, but his voice calls out.
“Come out, Cade. I know you’re there.”
I hold my breath, hating how scared he sounds, that tinge of desperation lining his words.
“Please.” It’s a whisper, but I hear it. I’ll always hear him.
I let out the air I was holding in my lungs and peer around the tree trunk. His lips turn down in a frown, and he shoves his hands into his pockets before pulling them out again.
“What are you doing?”
“Keeping an eye on you,” I reply, moving toward that old, rickety platform. I don’t like that he’s standing on it, but here we are.
“I don’t want you to keep an eye on me. I want you to leave me alone. I need some fucking space.”
I stare, trying to get a read on him, but there’s nothing but annoyance on his face. And fear.
Is he afraid of me? Or is it something else?
“Cade, seriously, leave me the fuck alone.”
I don’t move, just watch him.
“I don’t want to leave you alone.”
He huffs and runs his hands through his hair, his throat bobbing. “I said…I said, if you loved me, you wouldn’t follow, and here you are. So, that must mean you don’t love me. It just means you’re a fucking stalker.”
I cock my head, trying to ignore the hurt cascading through me. Why is Ansel being this way? “I do love you, which is why I’m following you.”
His lips twist, and he lets out a frustrated scream. “Why can’t you get it through your fucking head, Cade?! Leave me the fuck alone!”
His words are torn from him, rustling the trees around us, the wood under his feet creaking ominously.
They also hit me straight in the chest, and it squeezes, denial and anger moving through me.
Sadness. Abandonment.
Fear.
“You really want me to do that?” I ask, my voice rough. It cracks and creaks like the old train platform Ansel is standing on.
He’s crying again. I wish I could wipe his tears away. I wish he’d let me. “Yes, leave me the fuck alone. Just like I asked. I’m not going to be nice about it if you keep interfering.”
“You aren’t being nice now.”
“Yeah, well, you won’t fucking leave me alone when I’m nice. So here I am, being mean. Now go. I don’t want you here. Leave.”
I run a hand across my aching chest. “I’m not wanted?”
He bobs his head, the tears falling thick and fast now. “You’re not wanted.I don’t want you.”
I wish I could understand, but I can’t. “But you said you were happy. You said you didn’t want to hurt me, and here you are. Hurting me.”
His throat clicks. I can hear it from where I stand.
I take a step toward him, closer and closer until we’re inches apart. I can see the pain on his face, the frustration, the discomfort.
He really does want me to go. Maybe this isn’t something sinister. Maybe he’s really had a change of heart.
