Page 42 of Dancing in the Dark

“No,” he chokes out. “It’s not the end.”

“You already tried this, remember? You’ve been someone’s boyfriend before. Someone’s husband. It didn’t work out.”

“We are not Fletch and Jada, dammit! We’re Charlie and Sera. It’s not the same.”

“But we’re not!” I sob. “You’re Charlie. I’m Sera. We could have been everything we both need, but you keep getting in your own way. You keep sabotaging your own happiness, and then you have the audacity to claim it’s not your own fault.”

“It wasn’t!” he roars. “I have to work, Sera! I have a fucking child to feed, and I have cases to close. I have a lieutenant itching to put me on my ass, and tonight?” His eyes fire with potent rage. “Tonight, I had a dead body who needed me. A girl, a fucking teenager who deserved better than what she got. I couldn’t walk away from her any more than I can walk away from you.”

“But you did walk away from me!” I try to shove him back. To escape his steely grip. “I’m not asking you to abandon your job or risk the roof over Mia’s head. I’m not asking you to ignore that little girl we both love so damn much, and I’m not asking you to avoid the other responsibilities in your life. But I need you not to make abandoning me seem so fucking easy.” Furious, I tear myself free and stumble back until the corner of the hallway entryway bites against my spine. “I need more than you can give me.”

“I’ll give you everything I have.” He follows me in, the delicious scent of his aftershave filling my lungs and stealing my strength. “Everything I am, Sera, everything leftover after I’ve seen to Mia’s needs, I’ll give to you. Name it and I’ll make it happen.”

“I have named it,” I cry. “A thousand times over.”

“Sera—”

“I need to know I’m a priority for you. I don’t have to be number one.” I press my hands to his pounding chest. “Not even number two or three. But I have to be on the list. Somewhere.”

“You ar⁠—”

“And I have to feel secure in my place on that list. I want to look at you from across a room and know you’ve committed some part of your existence to me. After Mia is tended to, and the rent is paid, and you yourself have rested, I want there to be absolutely no doubt in my mind that there’s space for me, too.”

“There is⁠—”

“I’m not cut out to be your psychological punching bag. I can’t always be your last choice, and I’m not equipped to be your therapist. You come to me, but only to spew your toxic emotional overflow into my hands like it’s my job to carry that for you. But ya know what?” I slip out from between the wall and his broad chest, spinning and walking backwards toward my kitchen counter. “I’m fucked up too.”

He turns, haunted eyes and shadowed fury flickering in his gaze.

“I’m fucked up, Charlie! So fucked up, it’s laughable and embarrassing and gross. You want so badly for me to be your pack mule, for me to cater to your traumas and soothe your feelings, because bad shit happened to you, but I already have so much of my own to carry. I have my own wounds to heal and I just…” My heart thrashes painfully in my chest. “I can’t be your safety net anymore, because I’m drowning too, and no one seems to give a shit that I already can’t breathe.”

“I’ll breathe for you.” Broken, he stumbles closer. “If you give me a chance to prove myself, I could carry us both. I’m strong,” he rasps. “I’m capable.”

“But you’re already at your limit, and every time you attempt to carry a little bit more, I’m the one who ends up hurting.” I slam my fist to my aching heart. “When the stove burns us, we’re supposed to let go.”

“Please, Sera⁠—”

“When the waves are intent on dragging us into the ocean, we’re supposed to get out of the water.”

His golden eyes burn with aching desperation.

“It’s possible for two good people to be bad for each other, Charlie. If it’s not the right fit, it doesn’t matter how hard we try or how decent we want to be, it’s still not gonna fit.” I drop my hand and loathe the bounce of my shuddering chest. The ache in my heart. The sting deep inside my lungs. “I don’t want to be bad for you, and I really, really don’t want to keep trying to force a square peg into a round hole. Because at the end of the day, I still need us to be good enough that we can share Mia and she won’t notice what we broke. For her sake,” I whimper. “Because she deserves the very best of us both.”

For my sake. Because I won’t survive losing her.

“I’m begging you to leave.” On trembling knees that threaten to complete my trip to rock bottom, I cross to the front door and drag it open. “We can go back to who we were yesterday. Back when I thought about you in secret and felt safe knowing that not counting on you meant I couldn’t be let down by you. Back when being in the same room felt a little flirty and sexy and fun, when attraction came without risk, and promises couldn’t be broken, since none were made in the first place.”

I force the door wider and fold my arms across my chest. I make them my armor, because I can’t sustain another blow from this man without worrying it’ll be the one that puts me down for good. Not when I stare up at him and have to acknowledge he’s too damn close to death himself.

That’s the problem. We’re both too wounded, too broken, too stretched thin to take on someone else’s baggage.

“I’m sorry.” As he comes to a stop in the doorway, I place my hand on his arm and swallow the aching dread lumped in my throat.

I want a redo.

Another one.

I want to live in a world where an undeserving woman never hurt a good man, and a callous, unloving mother never hurt me.