“You want honesty?” I stepped closer, close enough to see the tears gathering in her eyes, close enough to smell that goddamn lotion and shampoo mix that would haunt me for the rest of my life. “Fine. Here’s honesty. I enjoyed the chase.”
She flinched like I’d slapped her.
“The forbidden aspect turned me on,” I continued, forcing the words out past the lump in my throat. “Sneaking around, keeping secrets, knowing I wasn’t supposed to have you. But now that’s over. And I’m already…” I made myself say it even though it was the worst lie I’d ever tell her. I made myself drive the final nail into the coffin. “I’m already getting restless.”
The sound she made was barely audible—a small, wounded noise that would echo in my nightmares for years to come.
“You’re lying.” But her voice had lost its conviction. The fight was draining out of her, replaced by something worse but necessary. Resignation. “You have to be lying.”
“I’m not.” I held her gaze, willing myself not to crack. Not to reach for her. Not to take it all back and beg her to forgive me. “You deserve a nice guy, Ava. Someone who won’t get bored. Someone who can give you the kind of love that lasts. That’s not me.” I swallowed hard. “It was never going to be me.”
She was crying now. Silent tears sliding down her cheeks, but she didn’t wipe them away. Didn’t try to hide them from me. She stood there looking at me like I was a stranger wearing the face of someone she used to know.
“So that’s it?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Everything we—all of it was just…nothing?”
Everything. It was everything.Youare everything.
“It was what it was,” I said instead. “And now it’s over.”
I made myself turn away. Made my feet carry me toward the door even though every cell in my body was screaming at me to stop, to go back, to fall to my knees and tell her the truth.
You’re saving her, I reminded myself.This is the kindest thing you can do.
But it didn’t feel kind. It felt like I was cutting off my own limb with a rusty blade, slowly, while forcing myself to smile through the agony.
My hand was on the doorknob when she spoke again.
“I never asked you for anything.”
The words stopped me cold.
“I never pushed,” she continued, her voice thin but steady. “I never demanded more than you wanted to give. I never made you promise me forever. I just…” She took a shaky breath. “I just let myself believe you when you said you loved me. That’s all I did.”
I couldn’t turn around. If I turned around, I would shatter.
“I know,” I said quietly. “That’s why you’ll be fine. You’ll find someone better. Someone who deserves you.”
“Don’t.” The word came out sharp. “Don’t you dare make this about what I deserve. If you’re going to leave, then leave. But don’t pretend you’re doing me a favor.”
I deserved that. I deserved so much worse than that.
“Goodbye, Ava.”
I opened the door and walked through it and out into the parking lot where my truck was. I made it all the way to the driver’s seat before I broke.
The sob that tore out of me was wrecked and defeated, the kind of sound I hadn’t made since I was a kid. I pressed my forehead to the steering wheel and let myself fall apart, just for a moment. Just long enough to feel the full weight of what I’d done.
I’d saved her.
I’d saved her from me. From my father’s legacy. From the inevitable moment when I’d look at her and feel nothing but the urge to run.
She would hate me now. She would move on. Find someone who could give her everything I couldn’t.
And I would spend the rest of my life knowing that the best thing I’d ever had was something I’d chosen to destroy.
Because that’s what men like me did.
We destroyed the things we loved.
