Ilove you. I love you. I love you.
Her confession, those three words spoken in the height of passion, rang in my head. They hit harder than any punch I’d ever taken, harder than the time I broke two of my ribs. They knocked the air from my lungs, leaving me reeling.
For a second that stretched into eternity, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t draw breath. Couldn’t think past the sudden spike lodged in my chest, dangerously like panic mixing with an emotion infinitely more terrifying: hope.
Love wasn’t a language I spoke fluently. Hell, I barely spoke it at all. In my experience, love had teeth that bit down hard and refused to let go. It demanded things I didn’t know how to give, required vulnerabilities I’d spent years learning to bury. So, I fucking froze like a coward, my body going rigid against hers, and the moment of hesitation, however brief, the damning stillness where I should have said something, changed everything between us.
The air in the room thickened, growing heavy with unspoken words and expectations I couldn’t meet. Her face, which had been caught in the throes of an orgasm, shuttered like windows slammingclosed. Her mouth pressed into a small, uncertain line, making my stomach twist. Neither of us said a word to break the terrible silence.
Fuck!
I felt sick—sick that I loved her the way I did, sick that I hurt her the way I had, and sicker knowing I can’t say the words back. Not because I didn’t love her, because I thought I did, but because I’m too damn messed up inside, and I didn’t want to fuck this thing up between us.
It was my biggest fear. That I would screw it all up to a point she’d never be able to forgive me. I’d already come damn close, and honestly, she shouldn’t have. I wasn’t sure I deserved her forgiveness.
I rolled out of bed before I could make things worse, before I could see more hurt bloom in her eyes. The sheets tangled around my legs briefly before I kicked free, my bare feet hitting the hardwood with soft thuds. I tugged on a pair of gray sweatpants from the chair where I’d thrown them a week ago, then bent to retrieve her discarded shirt from where it had landed near the dresser. “We should probably go,” I muttered, placing the thin tee on the bed without quite meeting her eyes.
Why the fuck am I acting so weird?I needed to get my shit together. This wasmyissue. Not hers, and I sure as hell didn’t need her to feel guilty about anything she said to me. Even if it threw me off balance.
She blinked rapidly, color rising in her cheeks, a flush that could be embarrassment or anger or residual heat, I couldn’t tell which. She nodded, pulling the shirt over her head while I rummaged through my dresser drawer for a clean shirt to wear.
My discarded clothes stayed scattered across the floor, proof of what we’d done and what I’d just ruined by not saying the one thing she’d needed or wanted to hear.
We dressed in heavy silence, carefully moving around each other like we were suddenly strangers again. The quiet wasn’t comfortable this time; it wasn’t the peaceful aftermath of intimacy. God, why did I feel like I was royally screwing up?
Why hadn’t I just said the words back?
The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her, and yet, here I was, damaging her heart. For what? My own selfish pride? What was it that was holding me back from leaping?
She thought she was messed up?
If she could only see the jungled clutter in my head.
My fingers fumbled with the laces on my shoes, taking longer than they should have to tie them. I sensed her watching me, the questions building behind her pressed lips.
By the time we made it downstairs and out to my SUV waiting in the circular drive, the tension between us became more than I could bear. I hated this weirdness. It had never been a part of us, and I didn’t want it to start now.
I had to say something, clear the air before it continued to linger, but everything that came to mind sounded stupid. I didn’t say dumb shit, not usually.
After I started the engine, the rumble became a welcome distraction to fill the void. The tires crunched over gravel as I guided us down the long driveway, bare willow branches creating flickering shadows across the windshield.
Halfway down the drive, I opened my mouth to apologize and untangle the knot I created, but she beat me to it. “About earlier… what I said...” She toyed with the strings hanging from her hoodie as she peeked at me. “I didn’t mean to say that.”
I should just let her off the hook, but I had an irrational reaction to her telling me essentially it was a mistake. “Didn’t mean to say what, exactly?” I kept my eyes fixed straight ahead on the road.
“Don’t be a dick.Anddon’t make me repeat it. You know what I’m talking about. It just…slipped out in the moment. It didn’t mean anything, okay? We’re just starting to get back to a normal place, and I don’t want it to be weird between us now.”
Didn’t mean anything?
Was some small part of me starting to believe I could have this, have her, have something good without destroying it? I wasn’t surewhat was worse, the terrifying idea that she actually loved me with all my damage and darkness or the crushing possibility that she didn’t, that it had just been empty words said in the heat of desire.
I wanted desperately to ask which was the lie, the confession or the retraction? But instead, I focused on the road ahead. “You don’t have to worry, little raven. Everything is good with us.”
“Swear?”
Pulling my eyes off the road, I glanced at her as I shot her a lopsided grin, taking the edge off my features. “On your life.”
She blinked, then let out a soft, uncertain laugh. “Okay…great. I think.”
