My heart aches for every bit of sorrow I cause him. Have caused him. And will always cause. I tried to move on. Year after year. I thought I was good at it. But here I am—causing drama again. And this man, here, he loves me. Cares for me. I’ve never felt worthy of care. Too much work. No matter how nice I am to Erik, it's not enough to account for all the sadness I bring.
Lifting my head, I blink away tears as I look into his eyes. They are red, anguished, clearly lacking sleep.
I’m sorry, Erik.
“I love you.” I hold his stare, and he holds mine. “I’m so sorry to put you through this again.”
“Blesk.” He grips my shoulders, pushing me out in front of him, his eyes studying me. “Why are you here?”
The question knocks air from my lungs.Konnor.One word. I don’t know how to answer this… How do I explain that I believe the boy I left in a cage for four years is the man I’m dating… I look up at him, pools of tears blurring my vision. “It’s… It’s to do with Konnor.”
His pupils dilate. "What about Konnor?”
I hiccup a sob. “I don’t…” I trail off when his hands move down to grip my upper arms. Tight. His fingers dig into my skin, and something icy slides down my spine. Maybe he doesn’t know how hard his grip is… I subtly try to shake him off, but his fingers respond. With more pressure.
He knows his grip is tight.
“Can you let go of me, please?”
“Let go?” The two words come out as if they’re inconceivable, low, hard, and unthinkable. “I know you lied to me. You went to see him after I dropped you off at your dorm. You told me you were going to sleep. You lied to my face.”
My throat tightens. “I… knew you wouldn’t like it.”
His jaw pulses.
More tears bubble over as dread churns through me. “Why are you doing this now? Please don’t do this now.”
“I hate that guy.” He cups my face with his hands. “He’s a total dickhead and he’s not good enough for you.”
I try to pull away from him now that he doesn’t have my arms, but he doesn’t let me.
“Erik, don’t do this now. Not now.”
“What did the dickhead do to make you cry?” His stare is very still. My pulse fills my ears as I think about that stare. About what is behind it.
“Erik”—I’m shaking my head—“don’t.”
He leans in, mouth inches from mine, breath slithering along my lips. I tense. “Tell me what he did to you, Blesk.” His voice is almost tender but scores the air.
I try to stand up, but he grabs my arms, dragging me back down to the step.
“Let meg-go.” My voice trembles.
“I saw you last night.” He pauses, letting that sink in. “Tell me the truth, Blesk.”
“Erik, whatever?—“
“And I spoke with Pemberton.” His tone is soft and precise. “She said that she found you in his apartment. That you were adjusting your dress. That the sheets looked lied in… Has he been inside you, Blesk?”
My breath catches.
Whimpering in his hold while I squirm for freedom, I try harder to get away from him, shoving and pushing. His fingers just twist in my hair. The other hand grips my back. “I swear to God, Blesk, if you've let Konnor inside you, I can’t be responsible for what I do.”
Struggling in his grasp, I desperately fight back tears.And then the begging starts. I’ve never, ever begged before, but the words pour out as if something inside has been unplugged. “Erik. Please. Please. Don't do this. We can pretend this didn’t happen. I will pretend. You know I can pretend.”
He goes very still.
Dread threads through my ribs.
