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“And I think the part that makes me so mad,” she continued, “is that I know you want me too.”
I had to look away. I had to get myself under control. Remember why she was so wrong for me.
But even if she was, Isabel was right about this, and I respected her too much to lie to her.
My voice hardly worked when I spoke. It sounded rusty and rough, but the words came out clearly all the same. “You have no idea how difficult this is for me.”
“Then tell me,” she begged, stepping closer. “Tell me.”
I swiped a hand over my mouth.
If I pinched my eyes closed, I could hear Beth talking to Anya. I could hear the words she said. Isabel represented every selfish desire I could’ve conjured for myself. So that was what I did. I tried to tug that memory front and center because it felt like the only way to make sense of this mess.
“I just need you to be patient with me,” I told her, voice taking on a harsh, frustrated edge.
“I am being patient.” Isabel swallowed. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to keep letting myself get whiplash until you decide this is okay. I’ve had a lot of things happen in my life that I had no choice but to push through.” Her voice was unsteady, but her eyes were clear. “But this, I can choose. Until you’re ready to do the same.”
My feelings for Isabel were too big. At that moment, the worst thing I could’ve done was tell her that.
That she was too much.
Too young.
Too beautiful.
Too guarded. I wanted nothing more than to break down her walls and let her do the same to me.
That together, we were too intense, in a time of my life when all I’d been seeking was peace.
The last thing I’d ever do was make her feel that way. And I didn’t trust myself to speak.
Isabel swallowed roughly, her eyes suddenly bright. “Please let me get back to work.”
She turned away, the long sweep of her dark hair making a hushed sound in the quiet of the office, and as she sat at the desk again, I saw her hands trembling.
It was the tremble that had me walking away as she asked.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Isabel
One thing I couldn’t hold against Aiden was how well he listened.
Like I’d asked, he stayed away.
Like I’d asked, he let me get back to work.
Even though I wasn’t teaching, I did just about everything else simply to stay busy. If I slowed, I would scream, just to have an outlet for my frustration. Not that he could’ve known the type of restless energy this distance caused in me.
Because the worst feeling in the world was falling in love with someone who wasn’t capable of returning that love in the way you needed. As I made the finishing touches on setting up for the self-defense class on my last day of work before Molly’s wedding, I kept thinking about Brooke.
I thought of the look I’d seen on her face the night before she left.
There was a resolve there that still made my stomach curl up unpleasantly when I thought of it. The love of Logan and Paige couldn’t erase it entirely, though it helped as much as anything could.
Telling Aiden how I felt about him was the closest I could come to baring myself to him completely. Standing naked in front of him would feel less vulnerable than this silence did. Because I had no guarantees that he’d ever love me like I wanted him to. Like I knew he was capable.
I’d never had the chance to beg Brooke to stay. So many years later, I knew I wouldn’t, even given the chance. But it still triggered the same uncomfortable edginess as if I had.
