I do.
That’s the problem.
Because I don’t see it now.
And that scares me more than anything she could’ve said.
“I’m sorry. For all of it,” her voice splinters. “But don’t make this decision for us. You feel this too. You don’t let anyone touch you. But you let me.”
“I felt what you wanted me to feel,” I say. “You’re good at that.”
Pain flashes across her face so fast it’s like I hit her.
“I see how you work,” I continue. “You study people. Find the cracks. The empty spaces. Then you fill them.” I hold her gaze. “That’s what you did with me.”
“That’s not true,” she says, “I fell for you. Love you—”
“You didn’t fall for me. Not the real me,” I have to pause and gather myself because this part hurts. “You got attached to the version you built in your head. The one you needed.”
“No,” she begs, clutching her chest, “Please just—stop—”
“Here’s what’s going to happen. We have one week left,” My voice stays even, stripped of anything that might betray me. “You finish your classes. You pack your things. Then you leave.”
She stares at me, uncomprehending.
“And you don’t come back.”
She shakes her head, like if she refuses hard enough it won’t be real, but the movement is slower now. Worn down.
“And if you do,” I step closer, forcing her to look at up me, “if I see you again,” I don’t raise my voice. I don’t need to. “I willeraseyou.”
She doesn’t react right away. Just stares at me, unfocused.
“Everything,” I say quietly. “Your family. Your name. Any future you think you have. You’ve seen what The Order is. You knowexactlywhat I’m capable of.”
“This isn’t happening,” she says, but her voice is faint. Distant. “This isn’t how this goes. Not for us.”
“Oh, it is.” I reach for her, my hand closing around her elbow, dragging her to her feet. For a single second, just one, my grip falters. My thumb presses into her skin, and I feel her there, real, shaking, warm.Mine. I feel it again, that desperate urge to pull her closer.
I let her go.
“I don’t want to see you.”
“You don’t mean that—”
“I do.”
I holdonto that.
“I don’t want you,” I force out, “I’m done with you.”
She’s already breaking, already halfway gone, but I push further, because if I leave a crack…
“You don’t know how to love,” I say. “You just know how to make people think you do.”
She sways, as if the ground rolls under her. Like an earthquake.
“Tell me something, Becky,” I add. “Do you even know who you are without someone to obsess over?”
