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He swallowed thickly, turning around fully, and his eyes landed on the photo album.
“I was making it for you,” I squeaked. “It’s…it’s pictures of Tristan from when he was born, till now. I was going to fill it until he was eighteen and knew the truth, and then give it to you. But seeing as you know the truth now,” I lifted my shoulders in a small shrug, “I don’t see the point in keeping it.”
He didn’t say anything, but I couldn’t mistake the telltale glimmer of tears in his eyes. I hated that I had hurt him. I had been a naïve child, and put my trust in a woman that had never given me a reason to trust her before. I had been foolish. I couldn’t take back that fateful decision, and I was stuck living with the consequences. I always knew that if Trent ever saw Tristan he’d see the resemblance, so there was never any chance of us having a relationship. I had let myself get tangled up in him again, though, because I couldn’t help myself when it came to Trent.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to put one foot in front of the other so I could leave. I stopped with my hand on the doorknob, unable to make myself twist it.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
I refused to turn and look at Trent, but I had to get this off my chest. He deserved to know my true feelings, even though it was too late for us.
I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood.
Our breaths were the only sound in the otherwise quiet room. Time appeared to stand still as I prepared to say three very important words.
I swallowed thickly and didn’t bother to look at him. I couldn’t bear to stare at his angry face as I finally spoke these words out loud.
My eyes closed, and I murmured, “I love you, Trent.”
He gasped.
And with that, I swung open the door, tears falling from my eyes as I ran away from everything.
chapter eighteen
“Rowan, are you okay?” Tatum asked, her blonde hair falling forward as she leaned across the table to peer at my face.
I didn’t answer her.
Was I okay?
Yes.
No.
I suppose.
I don’t know.
Did it matter if I was okay or not?
“I think she’s comatose,” Jude piped in, snapping his fingers in front of my face.
I didn’t blink.
“Should I get someone?” Tatum whispered to Jude, but I heard her.
I must have looked bad if those two were speaking civilly to one another. They bickered like an old married couple. Well, Tatum did. Jude usually just smirked at her as she went on a tirade about what a man whore he was.
“I dunno,” Jude shrugged, tilting his head and squinting.
“You’re the one that’s studying to be nurse,” she smacked his shoulder. “You should know if we need to call someone.”
Jude grinned. “It pleases me that you know what I’m studying.”
“Oh, down boy,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest, “stop fluffing your damn peacock feathers. I only know what you’re studying, because it’s the same as Rowan.”
Jude rolled his eyes. “Liar. You know you go home and stalk me on Facebook. I bet you lick your computer screen when you see pictures of me shirtless,” he licked his lips suggestively. “Ow!” He exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head where Tatum had swatted him.
