Page 127 of When In Doubt

Oscar looks like I’ve slapped him. Part of me wants to take it back, but I need to say it.

“Of course, I do.” He steps closer, reaching to pull me into his embrace. I can’t let him. I step back, out of his reach, and I hate the way the pain on his face draws deeper. This is such a mess. Why couldn’t we just stay the same as we’ve been?

“We’ve never talked about it,” I say.

“I didn’t think it needed saying.” He’s getting defensive now. I don’t want this to turn into a fight, but I can’t figure out a way back.

It’s not that I didn’t know we were getting there, but hearing him say it, using the title that only one person has used before, it’s undone so much of the progress I’ve been trying to make out here since leaving Connecticut.

The last time I was someone’s girlfriend, I felt trapped, stripped of autonomy, like I’d let myself get lost in a relationship that was slowly pulling me apart. I don’t know if I can go through that again. I don’t think I’m strong enough. It’s not that I think Oscar’s like that, but how can I be sure?

He didn’t even ask.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” I say weakly.

“Frey—” He chokes, not able to finish the word.

“I’m sorry, I just…”

He runs his hands through his hair, giving a tug as he looks at me. What I see in his eyes hollows me out.

“Is it because of what just happened?” He looks desperate as he rushes out the question. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I swear, I’m not like that. I’d never, ever do anything to hurt you, Freya, please. You have to believe me.”

“I know, I know, I do.” I surge toward him, not wanting him to ever believe that I could be afraid of him like that. I take hold of his jacket and pull myself close. He responds instantly, wrapping me in the warmth of his arms. It would be so easy to just let him hold me, to put everything I’m feeling right now back in the box I’m used to hiding it in and carry on as normal. But I can’t do it. I owe it to both of us to try and acknowledge the truth.

“Do you?” he asks, pushing back my hair so he can better read my face.

“Of course.”

“You don’t,” he says, almost as if he’s talking to himself, seeing something in my eyes that I wish he wouldn’t. “I don’t know what else to do here. I don’t know what you want me to do to make you believe that I’m not a bad guy. Tell me and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.”

“I know you’re not a bad guy!” I protest.

“No.” He shakes his head. I don’t even know how much he’s listening to me, he seems completely lost in his own thoughts. “No, you don’t. It’s like you do everything you can to keep your distance, even though I can see that’s not what you want. You let me have these pieces of you, then you snatch them back and shut me down again.”

“That’s not true,” I whisper, knowing I’m lying.

“I don’t know what you’re waiting to happen, if you’re waiting to see my true colors or whatever, but this is it! You’ve seen all of me, I’ve got nothing left for you to find, now you just have to decide whether you want it or not.”

I can’t stop the tears that escape as he speaks. Is that really what I’ve been doing? How I’ve been making him feel?

I choose my words carefully, as if by doing that I’ll be able to piece all of this back together. “Of course, I trust you, and I hate that I made you feel like I don’t. But you have to understand how hard this is for me. I have to be so careful with my feelings. I’ve jumped in with the wrong people before, let myself get hurt. I don’t always get it right. I need time to figure out what people’s intentions are.”

“My intentions?” he echoes. “I think my intentions have been pretty clear, Freya.”

He doesn’t get it. I’m the only one who can keep myself safe, and if keeping my feelings guarded is the only way to do it, then that’s what I have to do. I can’t judge people the way he can, can’t get a read on what they’re thinking, what they want.

“You didn’t ask me, though,” I choke out. “You never talked to me about it. How can I trust you if you’re making these decisions for me?”

“I’m not—” He cuts himself off, frowning down at his shoes. “Fuck! I swear, Freya, I’m not trying to put any pressure on you. I thought that’s what was happening.”

His hands come to my elbows, touch light.

“Christ,” he hisses, stepping away. That movement shatters another piece of me and I can’t do a thing to hold back the rest of the tears that have been waiting to come. “It doesn’t even matter what I say, does it? I can’t do anything to get you to believe me.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded.

“Freya, I know everyone’s always made you feel like this shitty judge of character, and you think what happened with Aaron just proved their point.” He takes a breath before continuing. I watch as his fingers flex, as if they’re reaching out, but he just shoves them in his pockets. “But you’re not. You know me. You know I’m not a bad guy. You know I’d never do a thing on purpose to hurt you. But it’s not even about trying to get you to trust me, because you don’t trust yourself, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about that.”