I shake my head, tears stinging now even though I refuse to let them fall.
“You don’t understand what he’s capable of.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do!”
He spins away from and grabs the edge of his dresser his knuckles turn white.
“I have spent the last three years loving you,” my breath catches. “And you stand there,” his voice breaks in a way I’ve never heard before, “telling me it’s worthless.”
“I won’t let him use you to get to me,” I whisper.
“And I won’t let him use you to get to me either,” he shoots back.
We’re mirrors. We’re fire reflecting fire.
“You don’t love me,” he says finally, the anger thinning into something rawer. “Not enough.”
My chest cracks open.
“Don’t you dare,” I breathe. “Don’t you dare question how I feel about you.”
“Then fight for me.”
“I am fighting for you!” I scream. “By letting you go!”
“Bullshit.” He steps further back like he can’t stand to be near me anymore. “If you loved me, you would choose me.”
Tears blur my vision as I stare as still as a statue.
“If you loved me,” I whisper back, “you’d let me save you.”
Something in him shuts down. I see the warmth, the pleading, the desperation all of it just…go.
“Fine,” he says flatly and turns to walk to the door.
“Ro—”
The door slams so hard the frame rattles. My knees give out before I can stop them. I sink onto his bed and the mattress dips beneath me, still warm from where he probably laid waiting for me to get home.
I tease the quilt as the first real tear falls from my eyes.
Love is worthless.
But as I curl into his sheets, breathing him in, my chest aching like it’s been hollowed out, I realise something far worse. Love might be worthless. But losing him is still going to destroy me.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I sigh as I pull it out.
Quinn:
We need to talk. Alone. You owe me that much. Old Mill Road. 20 minutes.
I stare at the message until the screen dims. My reflection looks back at me; pale, bruised and hollow-eyed. I owe her nothing and the fact she thinks I do is almost enough for me to not turn up.
A slow rumble of anger bubbles inside of me. Anger is good, anger is better than whatever this feels like. But even though it kills me to admit it. She can save him and I can’t.
I can't fix what just happened with Roman. I can’t undo the look on his face when I told him love was worthless. I can’tunsay the things that shattered between us. But Quinn? Quinn is something I can control.
