Page 33 of His Good Girl

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means I’m out, and you need to leave, right now.” Her lips quiver as she speaks, but she lifts her chin in pure defiance of the emotions playing in her eyes. For a split second, I consider refusing to go, making her listen to my apology, figuring out how we can move forward, but the way she holds herself all stiff, her hand that's not on the door clenching over and over. For the first time in years, she looks breakable, like the slightest touch, the wrong word, and she might crumble into a million pieces.

It breaks me.

I did this.

I hurt her.

I walk through the open door, forcing my hands to stay at my side, when all I want to do is comfort her. “I’m sorry, Lex.”

Not even bothering to look at me, she shuts the door in my face. Unable to move, I stand staring at the closed door, hoping with all that I am that it will fly open and that I haven’t broken us beyond repair. I startle at a loud crash like something was thrown across the room before she screams, “FUCK!” And I know there is no coming back from this.

I just lost her.

My feet are impossibly heavy as I make my way to the elevator. Numbness settles over me, except in my chest. There is a god-awful pain where my heart is supposed to be. I absently rub my knuckles over the spot, trying to lessen the pain radiating from it.

It doesn’t work.

35

ALEXIS

I stand on the balcony and watch Finn walk out of my life. Everything hurts, and my throat feels thick. His words echo in my mind. To add insult to injury, as I stood there listening to Finn call me a child and tell me we had no future, my own father was notifying me that he changed his flight and was boarding a plane to Washington within the hour. The sting of both their rejections hits me.

Turning, I walk inside and head straight to the shower. With numb hands, I crank the temp as high as it can go before stepping inside, welcoming the sting of the scalding water on my skin.

The truth settles in my heart like a stone.

I'm not enough.

Not enough for Finn to take a chance on.

Not enough for my father to actually love me.

Sliding to the floor of the shower and pulling my knees into me, I bury my head and sob. Crying for the little girl that stood by the window waiting for her dad, only to wake up in the morning on the floor because he had never shown up, and she hadn’t been able to give up on the chance that he would.

I cry for the girl that overheard her mom on the phone saying she regretted ever having a child and resented the way her body had changed because of the little inconvenience.

Then I cry for the loss of the only man that had ever made me feel seen—the only man that had looked at me like I mattered and was cherished. I cry until the water cools and I start to shiver. Dragging myself off the tiles and wrapping myself in a towel, I stare into the mirror.

Fuck this, I'm done crying tonight.

Me:

Let’s celebrate being in our new places.

Marcee:

I’m game. What do you have in mind?

Me:

Atonement.

Marcee:

Really? That place sounds wild! Let’s do it. Do you want to get a group together or just us?