I can laugh at her words. Me surviving,ha…The worst… No. She has no idea.
Her phone buzzes on the floor, the sound echoing through the empty space. We both glance at the screen, the contact picture of Isaac fills it. “Should I answer?”
I don’t protest. Maybe I should. Yet, I can’t find the will to be angry at him. He’s a victim, much like myself. Much like that baby growing in her womb, who I’m sure would need him. The only thing I need to know is whether Isaac knows. Did the man I trust more than anyone lie to me? No. He couldn’t have betrayed my trust that way, not after everything we went through. I dip my chin, giving her permission to answer. Just as she lets go of me, before she can answer, the familiar roar of the Camaro approaching signals of his arrival.
I curl into myself, tracking her movements as she steps outside to meet him, my arms pulling tighter around my ribs, wishing I could just curl into nothing and fade away. My mind continues to spiral, shifting between the basement and the truth. Realizing all along his guilt and pain is because of this. Not what we went through, but this.This secret.One he willingly kept from me all this time. So many thoughts cycle, it’s instant and non-stop.
Why did he keep this from me? How long?
All the grief I have kept at bay hits like tidal waves, destroying everything in its wake. The door opens, and my breath hitches at the sight of him, as he moves closer before collapsing before me. His knees crash into the wooden floor, already grovelling at my feet. The sight confirms my suspicion, and the way he mutters my name feels like I’ve been shot in my heart. “Ronnie?” My name comes out as a plea… a silent apology.
I break then.
The sound of his voice matched the pain written all over his beautiful face, the dam explodes. I lift my gaze to meet his. To force him to look at me. “You kept it from me.”
His jaw flexes. “I promise I was gonna tell you, but then the miscarriage,” he chokes out. “I just wanted to protect you.”
“It’s yours?” I ask the question that lingers in my mind. I know the truth. I feel it in my bones. Now he needs to confirm it. All it takes is his hesitation for me to know my answer. It’s minimal, a quick beat, a stuttered breath that shatters me entirely when he gives me a small, broken nod. My heart shrivels inside my chest, just as the storm breaks outside. Thunder rolls and rain begins to pour against the roof as if the sky grieves alongside us.
“I’m sorry, when I found out everything happened, and…” He bites back a sob. “I can’t be there.” Now tears stream down his face. “I can’t—I can’t turn my back on the—I’m sorry, Ronnie. Fuck. I’m so sorry.”
He is sorry… sorry… about what lying? About the baby? What is he so sorry for? My face crumples. “I wouldn’t ask you to.”
Hazel orbs plead with me, for what, I’m not sure. Maybe to stay with him. To forgive him. To accept his reality, but I don’t think I can. “Ronnie, baby,” he cries. “Fuck….”
I cry harder. It’s like Bella after Edward left her. It’s pure agony, it’s like being torn in half, knowing that this is the beginning of the end. Because I can’t cage him in my trauma, while he’s becoming a father. Because loving him has always been a wound that won’t stop bleeding. And I just want it to stop.
“I can’t.” I sob into my hands. “I can’t ask you to stay with me, not this time. That baby… he’ll need you more than I ever could.”
“Don’t–” he whispers hoarsely, almost doubling over from the pain. “Don’t do this, please,” he pleads, as if he could stop it from happening. The words come out broken and raw, as if his throat is full of glass. His shoulders tremble, his jawclenches, and for a second, he looks like he might actually collapse from the weight of it all.
Love just isn’t enough, not this time. Not when the world keeps carving us apart. I shake my head, wiping at my cheeks, my hands trembling too hard to hide. “I don’t think I can stay.”
The second the words leave me, he snaps. Not with anger but with grief. In one swift motion, he obliterates the distance between us, engulfing me with his warmth. His arm curls around me as he crushes me into him, like he’s terrified I might vanish if he loses his grip. His mouth finds mine, it’s frantic and wet with tears, branding me with each press of his lips. And I melt into it. I sink into him as he peppers kisses over my face. As if he could love me into acceptance. Love me into forgiveness. Still, I cling to him, drowning and kissing him so desperately I might actually convince myself that I can’t do this.
I can’t leave him.
He tastes like salt and weed.
Our teeth clash, our breath comes in short, ragged breaths, our own sinful symphony. It’s sloppy, messy, full of tears and grief turning into touch. We make out like kissing could fix this, but it doesn’t. Our touch only becomes hungrier, which turns into something primal. Something uniquely ours.
One last moment of pretending we aren’t breaking. Pretending I can stay here with him.
My fingers twist in his shirt. Immediately, hating the feel of the barrier between us, I drag Iz closer and closer until there’s no space between us. He lifts me off the ground with a groan, his hands gripping my thighs with a bruising need. Before I know it, my back hits the back of the couch, and within seconds, he tears every barrier of fabric that separates us. It’s not slow or purposeful the way he rips away my clothes and I his. Everything feels like it’s collapsing, as if we should stop, but we won’t.
Not this time.
His warm breath shakes against my throat when he says. “I can’t lose you.” He nips my skin, before flicking his tongue against it. “I just got you back. I can—”
Even though we both know he has. I cup his face, guiding his back to mine again, and he kisses me like a man starved, or maybe he’s trying to memorize every angle of my lips. His hand moves up my back before settling at the base of my neck and deepening the kiss, before he pulls me into him, making me straddle him and sliding inside me all in one go. It’s not love making… It’s devastating how he slams into me. A sharp gasp escapes my lips, from the fullness of him, my head falling forward, the deeper I take him. It’s too deep, too everything, and I’m not ready to let go. I don’t want to. But I have to. For him.
For me.
For us.
His hips thrust up, moving against me with urgency. “Fuck—Ronnie,” he breathes against my neck, his voice completely wrecked. “Don’t push me away. Please—Please don’t.” I dig my nails into his shoulders, pulling him deeper, my hips rocking over him, the tears blurring my vision as the world narrows to the rhythm of him thrusting into me. He fucks me like he’s trying to memorize me, and I let him.
I kiss him like I’m trying to stay alive.
