I suspected this was coming. Maybe not at this exact moment, but the emotions that she once fought so hard to keep at bay, she’s no longer good at hiding. At least not from me.
“Tell me you feel it, too. I know you do. I’m not blind. I see the way you look at me. Like you want to devour me and cuddle me at the same damn time.”
She’s an observant little thing, I’ll give her that.
“Demetria, you’re not wrong. I care for you very much.”
“Y-you care for me?”
I more than care for her. But I can’t bring myself to tell her that particular truth. I do, however, owe it to her to tell her another. That the last time I let myself love someone, I got my heart run over by a ten ton semi-truck. “My feelings are… complicated.”
“What does that mean?” Her eyes widen and I can already see the tears forming as she processes what I know she thinks is rejection.
It’s fucked up to say that I can’t give her what isn’t mine to give, but it’s the truest and cruelest form of the irony that is my life. Unfortunately, my husband has resurfaced and taken up residence–again–in my head… and my heart. I thought I was past my own pain and trauma caused by him leaving. Apparently not. It feels unfair of me to keep her when my mind is somewhere else. Even if that somewhere else doesn’t want me.
“It means… I’m broken and not capable of fully giving you what you need. Not like this.”
“No. You don’t get to be vague. You literally know everything about me and my bullshit. Tell. Me. Yours.” Her plea is choked as her tears begin to fall down her flushed cheeks. “I know you love me. I can fucking feel it.”
“Demetria–”
“No! Don’t call me that right now,” she shouts as she stands and crosses her arms protectively over her chest. “Tell me why you think you don’t love me.”
I stand and take a few steps toward her just for her to retreat further.
“I never said that.”
“You basically fucking did. Now tell me what I want to know or I’m leaving.”
I let out a long sigh. “There’s someone else… from my past. Like I said, it’s complicated. I haven’t seen them in many years, but they’ve recently popped back up. I thought I was past that particular complication but I don’t think I am. I’ve unfairly used you to escape my feelings and to avoid my own past trauma.”
“But… I don’t care about your past.” Her words are pleading and breathy as her eyes widen and she takes a step toward me.
A sharp pain rips through my heart as I fight the urge to let her step fully into me so I can wrap my arms around her and make the pain go away… for both of us.
I clear my throat–ignoring the searing pain that’s threatening to tear my heart in two–and take a step back, mirroring her movement. When she moves to take another step, my hand flies up in protest.
Her shoulders roll forward and the pain etched into her expression as she stares absently at my open palm, is one I’m unlikely to ever forget. It’s like a punch to the fucking gut. But it’s the soft sob emanating from her that seals the deal, fracturing and shattering my already well wounded heart into a million tiny pieces.
“I know you don’t. I’ll care about it for both of us. And I’m the one that’s supposed to look out for you, not the other way around. So, no matter what I feel for you… I have to let you go, Demetria. You were my patient and it was wrong of me to get romantically involved with you in the first place. Believe me, it’s better this way.”
She sniffles, then aggressively swipes at the few visible tears rolling down her now rosy cheek.
“What the fuck do you know about what’s best for me? You think being with me for a handful of months makes you an expert? Well, guess what? It doesn’t.”
Her chest heaves and her tears continue, now closer to a full sob as she takes in what’s happening.
When I don’t answer her, she continues. “You’re seriously ending this, aren’t you?”
All I offer is a tight nod. If I try speaking, I’ll either fall apart just from hurting her or I’ll take it all back. Maybe both.
Hurriedly, she pulls on her clothes as best she can and grabs her bag, hugging it tightly to her chest, then with eerie calm, she shatters my heart into pieces. “With you, I was so sure I’d finally found someone I could trust with my heart. There’s no amount of glue that can fix this. I hope you can live with that.”
Then she’s gone.
14
Hayes
