Page 43 of Floodgates

It was my fault. I had let him think we could be us again when it had never been a real possibility. “We’re done, Breck,” I said, pushing gently out of his embrace and slipping off the bed. “And honestly, I should be the least of your concerns right now.”

On my feet with the bed between us, I felt better, like I could breathe.

“Trace—”

“You should probably go.”

He looked cornered. There was a thread of panic in his voice, and the tears in his eyes spilled over. “Please, Tracy, please,” he said over and over. “You must forgive me. You have to forgive me.”

“It’s not even about that,” I insisted. “You and Celia have a lot of decisions to make, and what I do or don’t should have no bearing on anything. I’m so insignificant in your life right now that it’s laughable.”

“No, you—”

“Go talk to her; don’t waste your time here with me.”

He came around the bed fast, and outside of flipping over it like a gymnast, I was stuck. So when he grabbed me and pulled me into his arms, I let him. “Trace,” he said into my hair, his voice like a caress. “I need you. You need me. I belong to you. Don’t throw me away. You love me. Don’t stop, don’t ever stop. I’d die—I would die.”

But his words, which had once meant everything, now meant nothing. It was sad, the ending, and that’s what I was feeling, nothing else. I had shed tears for him months ago. I was all out.

“Please. I need you to forgive me this one mistake. I need you to let me make this up to you.”

But he’d made two mistakes, and the fact that I was more focused on his actual words than the feeling behind them spoke volumes. I was keeping score of his trespasses instead of forgiving him—it was ridiculous.

“I messed up, but it can be fixed if you just let me.”

I looked up into the violet eyes I knew so well.

“Don’t send me away, baby. Please don’t.”

But he was already gone—out of my house, out of my bed—done.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked me warmly, his gaze soft as he looked at me.

“No,” I said softly, slowly, but firmly, extricating myself. I needed him off me, out of my space. He was too close.

“Tracy… baby….”

Again, I put the bed between us by walking around to the other side. “Listen, you need to do the right thing, the honorable thing.”

“And what’s that?” His voice, whisper soft, was imploring. “Please look at me.”

“You should marry her,” I directed him. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“I’m going to marry you.”

“You should marry her,” I repeated, sighing deeply, tired, ready to lie down.

“I can’t ever marry anyone but you; that would make no sense. You’re the only one I love.”

“You should go now,” I told him thickly, my voice so full of painful resignation that I hardly recognized it as mine.

“I want to take you home.”

“I’m going home with Alex. He’s coming back to get me.”

“You’re going to Alex’s or your dad’s?”

“My dad’s, and, really, you don’t want to be here when he gets back.”