“If it helps, it meant nothing to me,” I said after several moments of total silence from her.
She came back out of the bathroom, staring at me with so much contempt it shocked me. “It meant nothing to you?” she said, her voice shaky when she talked.
“Of course not,” I said, reaching for her.
She stared down at my hand, her forehead creased in frustration. When she looked up at me, her frustration was gone and all that was left was anger and hate for me.
“You say that like it means it’s okay, Jesse,”
“Lane—”
“Like I should just pretend it didn’t happen then, I mean, if it didn’t mean anything, no harm no foul, right?” She cocked her head to one side and looked at me.
“Right,” I agreed, nodding my head, regretting it as soon as I saw the spark of hatred flare even brighter in her eyes. “Laney, come on, you know how it is. You know me. It’s just the way club life is.”
I was saying the words, but I had no idea why I was fucking saying them. Itwasclub life, but it had never been that way for us. Never. It wasn’tourclub life. Never had been and never would be. That’s what I’d always promised her, and up to six months ago I had kept that promise.
She shook her head like she couldn’t believe what I was saying, and I couldn’t blame her. I was being an asshole—a grade-A asshole—and I was losing her because of it, no doubt.
“I’m done with your bullshit. I’ve tried, lord knows how I’ve tried to make this work, but I can’t do it any longer.” She threw the things in her hands into the suitcase. “There’s no fixing your kind of fucked up—not anymore.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” she replied, eyes full of fire. “I don’t know who you are anymore, Jesse. But you’re not the man I fell in love with.”
I was standing, frozen to the spot, not sure what to do with myself. I couldn’t let her go, fuck that, Iwouldn’tlet her go, no matter what happened. My heart was beating again, faster and faster as the panic began to pump through me. If she went I’d be all alone, and there’d be nothing left and no reason to carry on. I had to fix this, despite knowing I shouldn’t.
“I can make this right,” I said, sounding every inch like the fucking pussy I was. “I can, but you can’t go. I won’t fuckin’ let you leave me, Laney. That ain’t happenin’ so drop that thought right the fuck now!” I shouted.
She shook her head in exasperation and turned around to face the dresser, and pulled the top drawer open before grabbing some more clothes. When she turned back around she glared at me defiantly. “You don’t get it, do you?”
“I get that you’re not leavin’ this fuckin’ house,” I snarled, feeling the familiar roar of anger inside me.
“You don’t own me, Jesse. You never did. I stayed because I wanted to, not because I had to. That hadn’t changed until last night. But now I’m done putting up with your bullshit, and I’m done listening to your apologies. It’s over.” She put the clothes in the case, her face twisted in pain and anger at me. Her shoulders began to shake as she finally let the tears come, and when she looked back up at me a small piece of me died. My heart stopped, time froze, and the lifeline rang in my ears—a high-pitched ringing that signaled a flat line.
“Laney—” I started, but she held up a hand to silence me, and I shook my head no. Fuck no, she wouldn’t silence me. No one fucking silenced me.
I moved then, reaching her in two big strides, my large frame towering over hers, domineering the space in the room and demanding her absolute fucking attention. And then I dropped to my knees right in front of her.
“Laney, I’m beggin’ you, woman, don’t do this to me. I’m fuckin’ sorry, okay? I’m sorry!” I grabbed at her legs and her hands went to my hair, her fingers running through it and making me feel like maybe this would be okay after all.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You need help.”
“I do, I need help. So help me!”
I looked up at her, hating that I’d hurt my woman like this. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Not for us. But then nothing was as it should have been. Everything was wrong and fucked up now.
“I can’t help you, I’ve tried but you won’t let me or anyone else in. I love you, but it’s over, Jesse.” She started to pull away from me and I shook my head, desperate as I grabbed at her legs.
She tried to pull away from me but I grabbed at her over and over, ignoring her slaps that rained down on me until I got a firm grip and I pulled her down and onto my lap.
“Get off me, Jesse! Just get off me!” she shrieked and cried, her hands still batting at me, hitting me anywhere she could land a punch or a slap. I didn’t try to stop her; I took each hit, knowing that I deserved each and every one of them, and then some more. Fuck, I deserved a gun to the temple for the shit I’d done to her. The things I’d put her through these past months.
“It didn’t mean shit, you know that. I don’t know why I did it!” I whispered into her hair as she quit fighting me and started crying again. And the crying hurt more than the hitting ever could.
A man was supposed to take care of his woman, but I had done nothing but hurt her. I was fucked up and spiraling out of control, and I couldn’t blame her for wanting to leave me—fuck, it was what I’d been trying to get her to do for months now: leave so that she would be away from me and my poisonous world.
But if it was really what I wanted, then why couldn’t I just let her go? And why the fuck did it hurt so damn much? Never known pain like I had these past months. Didn’t know things could hurt so much that you couldn’t catch your breath. Didn’t know that pain wasn’t just about the physical, but the mental too.
