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She opened her mouth and snapped it shut, letting out a frustrated groan. "Those are just things, Jason. I don't need things. I just wanted-" She didn't finish, but I didn't need her to.
She wanted love. Support.
And her back was turned because while we spent more time naked and getting to know what interesting combinations our bodies could make, we didn't spend too much time getting to know each other. But she knew enough. She'd met my parents. Seen how they were with each other. How they were with me. I wasn't the warm and fuzzy type. It wasn't in my DNA.
I was all thumbs, but I figured this was where I should apologize. Try and make things right. "Look, I'm s-"
"I lost it."
Three words.
And life would never be the same again.
It. The word my parents had used in hushed tones. Like saying the word, like saying ‘baby’ would make it real.
Their son, their pride and joy, knocked up the girl down the street.
I hadn't said the word myself, terrified of what it meant. Terrified of the man I'd have to become.
It was selfish, but I should have been grateful. I got my life back. Instead I just felt...hollow.
Tears were what should have sprung to my eyes, but the wires got crossed and I laughed. It was a choked, strangled sound, but it was out before I could stop it.
And when she whirled around, I knew I'd regret that sound for the rest of my life.
I didn't even dodge, watching her hand slice toward my face, feeling the explosion of pain. It was a jolt to my system. Snatching me away from the trappings of not caring. Pretending that this baby was an ‘it’. Pretending that whether or not she gave it up for adoption or raised it on her own would change one simple fact : we made a life together.
A life that was gone.
The tears that stabbed my eyes weren't a reaction to the slap, though from her horrified expression I knew she wouldn't believe the truth. Not if it came from my lips. She'd never believe another word I said.
"Fuck you." It was a parting snarl that she threw over her shoulder. Ready to storm out of the den. Out of this house. Out of my life. Writing me off as the Jason that everyone said I was.
A jerk.
I couldn’t let her leave. I had to try. I had to tell her she wasn't alone. That I was here.
"Wait-"
And she did.
Just long enough to drop a final missive that chilled me right to the bone.
"You're a real asshole, Jason Cox. And mark my words, you're gonna die alone. And that's exactly what you deserve.”
~
Of all the possible scenarios I ran through on the drive to Natalee's place, her slamming me into a wall was not one of them.
My gut twisted, wrapping a rope around my vocal chords. It was a good thing, because my first instinct in tense situations was to go for a joke. Sarcasm. Anything to alleviate the tension. But I didn't want to run away from the look on her face. It was the same look she had outside that bathroom. Some stomach churning combination of disgust and disappointment.
Neither was palpable. Not anymore.
Not on the face of someone I loved.
"Natalee," I began, not advancing because she looked ready to rip my head from my body if I made the slightest move in her direction. "Let me explain why I'm here-"
"No more explanations," she interrupted, tossing her head back and forth like anything more than 'See ya' would make her neck snap. "I got your texts and emails. I don't need more noise." She curled those delicious lips of hers into that stubborn set that would make lesser men stutter and whip out their phones and order roses, pronto. Stuttering would just make me look weak and from the way her chin trembled, despite her attempts to mask it, she would probably shred the flowers and make it rain wilted rose petals and broken dreams.
