“Cherry, what’s wrong?”
“Please don’t call me that.”
He flinches at my tone—sharp and emotionless.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on. You said you needed me to be your girlfriend for a month. That month is up.”
He watches me like I’ve told him his head is on backward. I don’t blame him, this has come out of nowhere, but I need to protect my heart from the possibility of breakage.
He holds his hand out in an attempt to calm the wildness in me. “If I’ve done something wrong, Oakleigh, then I apologize, but I’d rather we talk it about it before rushing to such extreme measu?—”
“I never agreed to go longer than the month.”
“But I thought you were…”
I cross my arms over my chest. “You thought what, exactly?”
He pauses, refusing to take his eyes off of me. His eyes that are swimming in confusion. “I…thought you might want more than what this started as.”
My heart thumps in my chest, but I refuse to listen to it. I steel my spine and keep my eyes trained straight ahead as I deliver the final blow. “No,” I say. “I never wanted more.”
I can see the light leave his eyes, any hope and happiness caused by me dissipating and fracturing into tiny pieces that I’m about to leave for him to pick up.
“I—” He clears his throat and adjusts his stance. His hands find his pockets and I know now that I’ve lost him. He’s shut down on me, cut himself off until only the hurt I’ve planted is left. “Okay. I’m sorry I made such an oversight.”
I nod, but I can’t find the words; not when part of me wants nothing more than to spend this day cuddled up with Finn, Ollie, and a bunch of trashy TV, and the other part wants me to tell him to fuck off and leave my heart alone.
He starts to turn toward the door, but halts halfway and I chastise myself for allowing my shoulders to sag in relief. He reaches for the door but hesitates.
“What?” I ask, both from genuine curiosity and a desperate attempt to speed up his departure.
“I just don’t get it,” he says, his voice so broken. “I really don’t get it.”
He spins back around and steps toward me and I immediately step back, craving both the distance and his closeness. My body is fighting itself, unsure of what to do, but so sure at the same time. I hate the feeling it causes in the pit of my stomach. He steps forward one more time, but this time my feet betray me. They stay perfectly still. Finn’s hand reaches out for me, cradling my face with such tenderness that my eyes can’t help but close.
“Why are you really doing this, Oakleigh?”
“I just told you.”
His laugh holds anything but humor. “You seem to be forgetting something.”
“What?” I ask.
He gives my hair a tug. “I’ve known you for fifteen years, Oakleigh Frances Michaels. I know when you’re lying. And I’ll wait as long as it takes, Cherry. I’ve been waiting fifteen years, I can wait a little longer. So, when you figure out why you’re really doing this, you know where to find me.”
My face loses all heat as he pulls away and I long for his touch once more. How can I be so desperate to see him go, but also crave his touch like this?
“I don’t want you to wait,” I tell him, hoping it’ll drive the knife in for the killing blow, but all it does is make his smile widen, even if it does become sadder.
“That’s exactly why I’ll do it.”
When he closes the door behind him, I break. The tears flow, the legs give out, and the silence is the only thing around to comfort me. I try and tell myself that the pain is temporary, that it’ll pass before I know it and I’ll be able to carry on in this world alone and free from pain. It’s a pathetic attempt, but I do it anyway, if not for the sake of my tears, then for the sake of my heart; my cracked and lonely heart.
* * *
The next day, I do what’s expected of me—I get up, I go to work, and I save lives. The day after that, I do the same. Both of those days, when my shift is over, Bash is there waiting for me with an awkward silence and a pity-filled smile. Finn must have told him.
