I hated it. Hated everything about the whole situation. Hated seeing him look so haggard and know I’d been the cause of it. Hated knowing I’d set him back and that he’d begun losing his control.
Somehow, one night lying in bed, my frustration with my parents grew again. I’d never have had to work at Voyeur if they hadn’t spent my money. Then I wondered if Callum and I would have ever happened. The idea of never having felt Callum’s lips on mine, his body on top of me, inside me. The idea of never having felt his smile and happiness directed at me, felt unimaginable. My love for him felt destined no matter the circumstances. Did that mean my pain was destined too? Were we always meant to fail?
I shook off the memory as I prepared to walk in to the office. With a deep breath, I pushed the door open, forced a weak smile at Donna and slowly approached Callum’s door. I always asked if he needed me even though every day he answered with a no, not even looking up from his papers.
Today when I looked in, I almost threw up the pop I had before arriving.
Shannon had her butt perched on his desk, her back to me as she smiled down at him. What was worse was his smile back at her. Sure, it looked forced, not reaching his eyes, but even a forced smile was out of my reach. His eyes flicked to me standing in the doorway, looking at me for the first time in weeks.
The blue was dull, hollow of any shine that used to be there. Dark circles under his eyes made the darkness more apparent. For the first time in weeks, even with his lips stretched into a smile, I saw my own pain reflected back. Just as quickly, he dismissed me, looking back up at Shannon, and I walked away as fast as I could.2
I couldn’t watch. The pain was bad enough without the image of him with another woman.
Trying to erase the picture from my mind, I worked harder, turning each beaker and flask to face perfectly straight. Any excuse to hide in the storage room a little longer.
The door opened behind me, and I knew, just fucking knew, it was him. Maybe it was the pause of his steps when he noticed me in there. Maybe it was the way my body sensed his and came to life just from his energy being close to mine. I didn’t know, but my muscles jerked when the door clicked shut and we were the only ones in the room.
My chest heaved over my rapid breaths, trying to keep up with my frantic heartbeat. The last time we were alone, we’d shattered, and I still hadn’t recovered. My hands trembled from the nervous energy coursing through my limbs, so aware of him standing behind me. Off to my left, a glass slid off a shelf, and I imagined his strong hands gripping the equipment and remembering how he’d gripped me.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” His voice was soft, deep, quiet, but it rattled through my body like a scream. “To watch someone that means so much to you be with someone else.”
I whipped around so fast, the end of my ponytail flicked my cheek. Angry heat flooded my face and a fire that he would hurt me so intentionally burned me from the inside out. “You did it on purpose? To teach me a lesson? Like I don’t know?”
“God no. No, Oaklyn.” He looked me over, alarm contorting his face into a frown. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, stepping closer to me.
His soft confession hit me in my chest. I knew he didn’t want to hurt me. That was how we got there in the first place. I closed my eyes, unable to stare at his beauty without remembering all the reasons I loved him.
Because I still loved him. No amount of pain was taking that away.
Wetness escaped my closed lids despite how hard I tried to hold it back. They turned to full sobs when his thumb swiped at my cheeks. My chest shook, and I leaned into his palm, finding a false comfort in his hands on me again. Even if it meant nothing, I’d missed his touch. I missed him so fucking much.
My eyes were still closed when I felt his heat inches from me, when I felt his breath on my wet cheeks.
“I’m so sorry, Oaklyn. So fucking sorry.”
Turning my head, I held his hand to me and kissed his palm. Taking the final step to connect us, I finally opened my eyes and looked up into his. We stood like that, his hand on my cheek, my hand on his, staring at each other, cherishing the small moment of connection even if it was all a lie.
I could have stayed in the room forever if it meant he was by my side.
He leaned down, and I met him halfway, pressing my lips to his. We didn’t go any further, just pressing as close as we could, trying to make it last.
But all too soon, he pulled back and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
Then he walked out, leaving me again crying alone in a room.
I almost missed my phone vibrating in my pocket but pulled it out to see my advisor had sent an email.
Miss Derringer,
Congratulations! You received the internship with the sports therapy team. Let’s set up a meeting later next week to discuss the details.
Dr. Denly
My first inclination was to run to Callum, to throw myself in his arms and celebrate, but with my hand on the doorknob, I stopped, the truth of our situation hitting me all over again.
I remembered the morning after we’d slept together, when I’d had my interview. I remembered how I’d thought we’d celebrate together. How wrong I’d been. How different it was than anything I’d ever pictured.
Maybe I should have told him my plans, told him I had a light at the end of the tunnel. But it was too late. Nothing was going to make a difference and bring us back together.
