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I shake my head as I walk past him, over to the bed and slip my toiletries bag into one of the suitcases. This man has to be out of his damn mind if he truly thinks I’m going to go into that cesspool of a kitchen and cook him something after I just worked sixteen fucking hours today. “Nothing.”

He doesn’t say anything in response and when I glance over my shoulder at him, he’s staring at the suitcases on the bed. His brows furrow and the corners of his mouth droop as he meets my eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Packing,” I answer, deadpan, as I turn to grab my phone charger from the outlet next to the bed. I tuck it into one of the bags before turning to look around the room to make sure I’m not forgetting anything.

There is a bottle of perfume on the dresser that Owen bought me for our last anniversary. He said he thought it smelled sexy and begged me to wear it for him on a night out. Of course, that night out never even happened and I refuse to take that with me.

Just like I refuse to take any of our photos together or the shoebox of keepsakes I keep under the bed. I’m so well and truly done that I don’t want anything from him or us or our time together.

“Where are you going?” Owen asks and I roll my eyes before turning to look at him.

“I’m leaving you.”

He blinks and slowly shakes his head. “No…”

“Yes,” I answer, my voice firm. Pulling open the top drawer of my bedside table, I grab the case that has my two vibrators stashed in it before slamming the drawer shut again and tossing them into one of the suitcases.

“Baby,” Owen whispers. I glance over my shoulder and my resolve wavers at the pain and desperation in his eyes. But only for a moment.

No.

I can’t keep doing this.

Owen will continue to take and take and take until he sucks me dry completely. Until I have nothing left to give. Until I’m too damn jaded to be any good for anything or anyone else, including myself.

“Please… don’t do this.”

I turn back to the open bags in front of me. “I’m sorry, Owen.”

Glancing down at the bedside table again, I pull open the second drawer and my heart aches at the sight of my family photo album that I keep there. It would be so easy to get lost in those memories right now but I shove the feelings down, needing to stay focused.

“We have to talk about this.”

I scoff. “Owen, I’ve talked about this until I’m blue in the fucking face. I’m done talking about it. I’m done asking for help. I’m done fighting with you over the same thing again and again. I’m just done.”

“Lennon, baby,” he says, an ache in his voice that does something to me but when I look up at him, his eyes are dry and just as lifeless as always. He shakes his head, taking a step towards me but I mirror him, taking a step back. “Don’t leave. I’ll do better. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. Just don’t leave.”

“I can’t do this anymore,” I tell him, shaking my head and he reaches out with both hands before I can get away, gripping my upper arms gently.

“I’ll find a job, baby. I’ll take over all the chores around here and we’ll start going on dates again. I’ll do better. I promise you, Lenny. I promise.”

Maybe his words should make my heart ache. Maybe they should give me pause but we are past that now. It’s too late for empty promises or second chances. And his pleas make me feel nothing because while there may be a sliver of good intentions there in those promises, I know just as well as he does that they are empty. Sometimes, you go too damn far, there is too much damage done, to turn back and fix things.

“No, Owen.” I say, trying to pull my arms from his grip but he tightens his hold on me, his expression contorting from sadness to something darker.

“Lennon, you can’t leave me,” he snaps, his voice concrete. I try to pry my arms from his grip but it only makes him hold me tighter and my heart jumps into my throat.

Anytime I considered leaving Owen in the past, I thought he might get upset or beg me not to leave him. But I never expected this. I never dreamed that he’d ever put his hands on me like this. And the look on his face right now is honestly terrifying.

But I can’t stop.

I can’t stay here.

Especially now.

“I can, Owen. And I am,” I say, gently. Maybe I can make him see reason. Maybe I can make him see that there is no hope here and that he needs to let me go. “I asked one thing of you today and you couldn’t even do that. Besides, this isn’t much of a relationship anymore and you and I both know that.”