He grits his teeth. For a moment he looks like he might lose it, but then his voice drops low, dangerous. “Did you ever ask why? Did you ever think for a fucking second that maybe I thought I was protecting you? That I wasn’t doing it to hurt you? You don’t always get all the answers, Violet. Some things I keep because I have to.”
I huff, staring at him with a hard expression. “The old ‘I was just protecting you’ excuse isn’t enough. You should have told me everything...”
“Would it have fucking changed anything?” he barks, his voice cutting off as he clenches his fists.
“YES!” I slam my hand on the side of the bed. “Yes, it would have—because it wasn’t just about you, it was about us. But you broke that, and now you’re angry I didn’t stay and pick up the pieces so that you would fucking feel better about my decision to leave.”
“Fuck you,” he growls, his voice so low, so gravelly, it hurts to hear.
"No, fuck you,” I hiss, voice trembling so hard I barely recognize it. “You had a daughter, Travis, and you just forgot to mention it in all those months we were talking about trust and love.”
His face blanks, but not enough. I see the muscle jump at his jawline. “That wasn’t your fuckin’ business at that point, I was dealin’ with it before I could tell anyone.”
I flinch. “Not my business?” I whisper, my voice barely a hiss. “I didn’t ask for you to love me, Travis Phoenix. I came back, and you pushed. You wanted it. You made me fucking love you and then you made a choice to destroy that.”
His fists are clenching so hard his knuckles are white. He just stares, slow burn, and he won’t show me a single ounce of hurt, which only makes it feel a million times worse for me.
Reagan shifts, her hands dropping to her sides as she stares between the two of us. I don’t look at her—I won’t look at anyone but him. “You think I left because I’m a coward? I left because you broke me,” I croak, each word broken. “You made me think it was all my fault. Like I was never enough. But the truth is, you have always been an expert at self-destruction.”
He looks at me, and for a second I see it—a hint of something. It might be regret, but he will never say it.
“You can leave.”
His voice comes out a slow, painful hiss.
I turn, rushing towards the door.
“Go back to your life, Violet. Run away, don’t look back, it’s what you do best.”
Every cell in my body wants to break him. “Fuck you, Travis.”
I get the hell out.
Reagan follows. I feel her behind me, but neither of us say anything. My chest shakes, but I don’t let myself cry until we are in the car and Reagan is behind the wheel. I want to scream, but even that seems pointless now.
“I know that hurt,” Reagan says, carefully. “But you both needed that.”
Did we?
Or did it just make everything a million times worse.
