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Tears sting my eyes, my throat thick, and I will myself not to cry. I need to get out of his truck, away from him. Being with him like this is too much—it’s too painful.
I depress the handle of the door, try to get out, but King’s hand grips my shoulder.
“Wait.”
“No. I’m going now. This is too much for me.” I shove the door open and scramble out of the truck. I want to dart up the stairs, away from him, but I have to get all my shit first.
Reaching behind the seat, I wrestle with my suitcase, trying to slide it out. Naturally, it won’t budge.
“Here, let me help.” King hops out, coming around and easily maneuvering the luggage out like a damn valet at a fine hotel. Our fingers brush as he hands the bag to me.
Sparks fly up my arm, and I hate him a little more for it.
Asshole.
He stares at me, hurt swimming in his deep-blue eyes. I will him to speak—to say something, anything that makes sense—but he doesn’t.
His Adam’s apple bobs. The breeze blows, my hair flying around my face. He reaches out, tucks a stray lock behind my ear. His touch gentle, yet still leaving fire in its wake.
We’re fire and water, me and King.
This is never going to work.
I should have listened to him when he said to stay away.
He warned me, but I didn’t want to hear it. I wanted to believe in him—in us—so badly. So damn badly.
With a shaky breath, I say the word I know I should have said a long time ago.
“Goodbye.”
Then I turn and head toward the stairs.
“Juliet—” King’s hand darts out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist.
I try to shake him off, but his grip is too tight. Sadness morphs into madness, and I struggle away from him, breaking free.
“Don’t, King. You’ll only make this harder. You were right, and I should have listened when you said we can’t work. You told me who you were. I just didn’t want to believe it.”
Pain, raw and wild, flashes over his face, quickly replaced by anger.
“So this is it? After one hard afternoon, you’re gonna quit on us?” He flings his arms out, dark brows raised.
“I’m not quitting, King. I’m walking away. Two very different things. I love you. But I need to save myself.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I need to save myself from the heartache that is you. You know how many nights I cried myself to sleep, wishing you were with me? That you gave a shit?”
“That’s not fair, Juliet. You had no idea what I was feeling.”
“Exactly my point, King. I had no idea because you never let me in. You shut me out. When things get hard, you stonewall me. And I’m tired, King. I’m so fucking tired. Tired of being alone, even when we’re together. I deserve more than that.”
His jaw tics, and he scrubs a hand over the back of his neck, shuffling his boots against the pavement.
“You’re right.”
His quiet admission stuns me.
