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“For the worst fucking foul a man can commit in a relationship.”
I wait.
“You gave up on her, mate.”
Something inside me stills.
“Without even fighting for her.”
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. Dane steps closer.
“You fucked up. Fine. Men fuck up.”
“Frequently,” Tank contributes.
Dane ignores him.
“You apologized.”
“Yes.”
“Once.”
“Yes.”
“And she asked for space.”
“Yes.”
“So you gave her space.”
“That was the respectful thing to do.”
“There's space, and then there's disappearing because you're scared she'll reject you.”
Fuck.
“She published the article.”
“So?”
“She finished the story.”
“So?”
“She doesn't need access anymore. She’s done with me!”
Dane looks like he wants to hit me.
“What the fuck does access have to do with the fact you’re in love with her?”
The word lands directly in my chest.
Love.
I haven't said it aloud.
Not to Layla.
