He looked tired. His hair was messy and there was dust on his jeans. But his eyes softened when he saw me, and a small smile tugged at his mouth.
“Hey.” He moved further into the kitchen. “Girls give you any trouble?”
“No. They were perfect.”
“Good.” His eyes roved over all the glass jars on his kitchen counter. “Everything okay?”
“Uh, yeah. Well, um, no, actually.” I set the dishcloth down, my hands gripping the edge of the counter. “I wanted to talk to you.”
He stilled. “Okay.”
The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable. The words I’d practiced in my head for the past two days suddenly felt impossible to say.
“The other night,” I finally managed. “In the truck.”
“Yeah.” His voice was careful. Guarded.
“I can’t keep doing that.” The words came out in a rush. “I can’t keep doing this to you. It’s not fair.”
He straightened, his jaw tightening. “Doing what to me?”
“This.” I gestured between us helplessly. “Kissing you and touching you and then pulling back. Leading you on when I know it can’t go anywhere.”
“Who says it has to go somewhere?”
“I do. Cam, you deserve someone who can give you everything.” The words felt trapped in my throat. “Someone who isn’t a total fuck up. And that’s not me. So I think we should just... stop. Before this gets any more complicated.”
He stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he took a step toward me. “No.”
I blinked. “No?”
“You don’t get to do that.” His voice was firm but not angry. “You don’t get to decide what I can handle. You don’t get to tell me what I deserve or push me away because you’ve decided that’s what has to happen.”
“Cam...”
“You told me your terms weeks ago, and I accepted them.” Another step closer. “You can change those terms for yourself whenever you like. That’s your prerogative. But it’s not fair to change them for my sake, without even asking me if that’s what I want.”
An invisible band squeezed my ribs. “But I...”
“Do you want to stop?” His eyes searched mine. “Actually want to? Or are you just scared?”
I opened my mouth but nothing came out. Because he was right. I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to keep kissing him and touching him and feeling the way he made me feel.
“You don’t understand,” I whispered.
“Then help me understand.”
I opened my mouth but the words died on my lips. How could I explain something I could barely face myself? Words were cheap. Words were easy to misunderstand. I needed himto see the reality. The ugly, jagged truth I carried around every single day.
If I told him, he might imagine something tragic. Something noble.
I needed him to see the ruin.
My hands moved to the hem of my shirt. Cam’s eyes widened slightly, confusion flickering across his face.
“Emily, what are you...”
I pulled my shirt over my head in one quick motion and dropped it on the floor.
