Page 2 of Love At Peace

He furrowed his brow as though he searched for the words to understand.

“We had a couple of nights together. That’s it,” I told him.

My mouth felt funny with that lie. I hated the taste of being untruthful as I bent the reality that I had been learning to accept.

Just days ago, I was amazed by how much I was letting him in. I recognized my own growth when I considered how much Roarke was coaxing me to lower my guard with him and embrace his support.

It seemed like a sign of healing. That I was overcoming the trauma of David’s abuse.

And now I was claiming the opposite, that we didn’t have anything deeper and more meaningful between us.

I was a hypocrite, but I had to stick with keeping myself safest. I had to prioritize my comfort and security.

“That’s it, huh?” He rubbed his jaw, looking at the ground. “That’s all we had. A couple of nights. Just sex.”

I frowned, hating that he wasn’t leaving already. It made me feel worse, like he wasn’t all right with my rejection. I couldn’t matter that much. We hadn’t been together—or close to something like a commitment—for long.

I was gun-shy. I was damned nervous and scarred and uneasy about the idea of a relationship again. That was nothing to be ashamed of, but I didn’t care for this idea that I would be hurting him by doing what I thought was best for myself.

“Now isn’t the time to sit down and define what we were doing or what we wanted.”

“I know what I want,” he bit out, narrowing his eyes. “I told you that I was interested in seeing where things could go between us.”

I was, too. I opened up to the chance that we could start something.

“And we did,” I lied. We’d only just begun getting together, and I wasn’t satisfied. I wanted him too, but I didn’t think I could risk it.

“We did?” he asked, raising his brows. “That was it for you?”

Please, please don’t fight me on this.

“That was all you wanted? A good time. A quick fuck. And that’s it.”

No. When he said it like that, dismissive and cold, that was far from what I dreamed of exploring with him.

“Is this how it goes with you? You always run when things get tough?” He crossed his arms, glaring at me and giving me no easy out from answering.

I pressed my lips together to keep from scowling. “You’ve got no right to say such a thing.”

“I don’t?”

“You don’t know me.”

“And it looks like you’re just putting walls right back up so I never will.”

Tough shit. I needed these walls to be safe and strong.

“You can’t even try? You don’t want to try to see what we can figure out—together?”

I tried every day just to survive. To beat down the fears and paranoia. The bad dreams and ugly nightmares. I wouldn’t ever claim to be a poster child of great mental health, but I tried every single day.

Prioritizing a relationship with him just couldn’t make the cut. Too many burdens and worries weighed me down. Until I didn’t feel threatened by this news that his niece and my ex were getting together, by this development of his niece getting onto my work laptop, the answer had to be a hard no. I couldn’t try to fit him in. I couldn’t trust myself to see the distinction between lust and safety.

“Just like that, you want to throw away what we’ve shared?” he asked.

“It’s not ‘just like that,’” I retorted hotly. “This isn’t some wishy-washy idea to go.”

“Then tell me. For fuck’s sake, don’t I at least deserve a reason why you want to run again?”