Summer pushes herself up, and I stop talking, aware I fucked up by oversharing. The way she looks at me...
“Let’s get some sleep. Forget what I said.”
Fat chance of that happening.
“Our pasts have a way of constantly haunting us while the monsters responsible are still in our present.”
Summer gives me a quick kiss before snuggling in my arms and drifting off, like she didn’t just hear me spill my most humiliating truth. But shame won’t let me drift off for hours.
When my eyes peel open in the morning,mywoman is embracing me, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
But what haunts me is the thought of our conversation from last night and the need for me to erase it from my mind, especially the part where I basically admitted I have abandonment issues. Like a coward, I slip out from under her arm, careful not to wake her. I don’t want distance from her, but from what I revealed. I’ll justify my dick move with the fact that I have a lot to take care of today, and she’ll forgive me eventually for sneaking out like this. The question is if I’ll forgive myself.
Chapter 30
Atlas
I’ll pick you up at 7. Sorry for leaving like that. I have a lot on my plate today.
That’s the dry text I left unsent for hours. It’s not enough of an apology, and I don’t know what words could be, but a simple sorry won’t cut it. I’m just trying to downplay this morning.
Summer didn’t text or call either. She cried in my arms last night at the realization that she’s no longer alone, only to wake up this morning to an empty bed. Her silence is not indifference. It’s hurt. Or anger. Both?
In the early afternoon, I finally do what I should’ve done hours ago—press send. Hell, what I should’ve done isnotsneak out on her this morning.
Minutes pass with no reply. Would she answer at all when my text doesn’t feel like a real apology?
When the ping finally comes, it’s clear she woke up and chose war.
Summer
It’s okay. I’m sure you had no idea how being left like that feels. I bet you say goodbye even to your hookups.
She knows how to hurt me as well as I hurt her.
Gripping my phone hard enough to break it, I type out another attempt at damage control.
Don’t go there! I said I’m sorry.
Summer
Shove that sorry up your ass, along with the EpiPens. Both of them.
Hell, no!
Mad or not, she can’t talk to me like that.
I hammer out a reply and send it before I’ve even read it.
7 p.m.! I’ll shove them up yours if you’re not there. Both of them.
Fuck! I shouldn’t have done this.
But why did she have to twist the knife where it hurts the most?
Summer
After everything you have done to me, this is the first time I wish I’d never met you.
