Page 24 of Heartstrings & Horseshoes

Self-loathing drips from his pores, a spear through my tender heart.

“Please…please forgive me.” His tone and posture scream defeat. And while it hurt he wasn’t around, it’s my fault he stayed away.

His strong hands wring together, and I place my smaller hand atop his to stop him from hurting himself.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Connor. You have every right to a life outside of me and my problems. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.” He tries to interject but I continue.

“You’ve been so generous taking me in and rearranging your work schedule. You don’t owe me a thing. I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”

Emotion strains the voice escaping my tightening throat. “I’m sorry I made you so uncomfortable you didn’t want to be in your own home. If you tell me what I did wrong, I promise I’ll fix it.”

The anguish in Connor’s voice guts me. “Dollface, you didn’t do anything wrong. I swear to god. I don’t know how to justify my actions. But please believe me when I say it’s because of me, not you.”

Why does it feel like I’m being dumped by a man begging me to stay? Our relationship is turning into a complete mindfuck. I want to move past this and go back to the way things were.

I un-ball his fists and take him by the hands and do my best attempt at a genuine smile.

“You’re sorry. I’m sorry. You love me. I love you. Can we leave it at that and move forward?”

Connor inhales deeply through his nose, brows furrowed, eyes searching, trying to read between the lines. He’s not going to find what he’s searching for because I’ll never tell him the truth about my feelings.

“Okay, doll. We can move forward. Now, can we make a grocery list? It looks like we need a few things.”

Of course he noticed. He notices everything. I want to make excuses and promises, but I’m tired of suffering. I can’t control my trembling bottom lip any more than I can control the traitorous tears streaming down my cheeks.

Connor gathers me into his lap and cradles me like a child, gently rocking us side to side.

“Shh, shh, shh. It’s alright. I’m here now. I know you’re stressed. We’ll work on it together, okay?”

He pulls a box of tissues from thin air and fruitlessly attempts to dry my tears.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to take a nice hot shower and dress in your comfiest clothes. I’m going to make a grocery list of the things I know you can tolerate and call your sister. We’re going to meet her and Reid for coffee at Bean & Brew for as much twin-time as you need.”

I emit an unattractive laugh-cry-snort at his plan. He always knows exactly what I need.

“Then, I’m going to drop you off at the bookstore to pick out something new to read while I get groceries.”

How? How is he so perfect for me, but only as a friend? Why can’t he see me as more?

“We’re going to take things one day at a time. Our top priority is rebuilding your trust in your body—to listen to your hunger cues and nourish your body, not punish it. Our second priority is annihilating your finals, so you get the equine therapy internship of your dreams.”

At that, a laugh bubbles through my tears.

“Sound like a plan, doll?”

“Yes. Thank you, Connor. For everything.”

Thank you for finding me.

Thank you for saving me.

Thank you for believing in me.

Thank you for loving me.

14

“Honey! I’m home!” I sing-song as I swing open the door to our apartment. It’s a joke, of course, and pretending it’s real doesn’t hurt anyone but me.