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I squeeze his hand. Obviously, it’s warm. There’s a faint pulse in the base of his palm, but I know what he’s saying. Although his hand is alive, it’s dead, too. There’s no reflex or instinct in his hand when it’s curled around mine. It feels like I’m holding onto dead weight, a lifeless limb that has no care whether to be entwined with mine or not. It’s just… there.
“Cara? Do you feel anything?”
“No.” I whisper. I squeeze his hand, looking and feeling for anything. Any kind of hope that he’s still in there.
You don’t realize someone is gone when you can look at them and talk to them just as you normally would. It’s when you touch them, feel for life, hope for a beat of life, and get nothing in return. That’s when you realize they’re gone.
“You touching me, I feel nothing. I look at you squeezing my fingers and I feel nothing. I don’t have any feeling left, Cara. Not in my hand, not in my body. And definitely not in my heart. So, don’t love me. Because I won’t—I can’t—love you back. Not now, not ever.” His voice chokes, and I have to lock my legs from falling on the floor and crying in despair. In grief. I’m grieving him.
We were never able to see what we could have been.
“Jackson…” My voice shakes and this time I don’t try to stop the tears from flowing down my face.
“Get out of here, Cara. Please? Just go.” He turns his head away, and I almost miss the glistening in his eyes, but I don’t.
I bet he’s frustrated he can’t wipe away his emotion.
He turns his eyes and sees me still standing there. “Fuck. What’re you still doing here? Go!” His sadness turns to anger, and I know he’s barely keeping his shit together.
“I’ll always love you, Jackson.” I turn and walk out the door, my heart jumping in my chest when I hear his loud growl through the door and my sob finally breaks through as I walk back towards the elevator.
Jackson has always been a whirlwind of emotions, but I think he’s really gone this time.
We’ve always had this push and pull relationship, but as I walked out that door, I felt no pull. It felt like he released me for good and he’s done.
He always pulls me in and breaks me down until I crack. I pull, he pushes. I push, he pulls.
But here I am, finally. Ready. Willing. Wanting. And he pushes me away.
The emptiness in his gaze gives away the numbness that runs through his body like a drug flowing through his veins.
He’s gone.
I can’t do this again. I won’t be able to survive next time. The razor-sharp emotions that Jackson evokes in me will tear me to shreds.
If I’m not going to be his everything, I don’t want to be his anything.
I’m done.
* * *
“Wouldyou stop being so sad? Everything’s going to be fine. Think about it, we get to live together for a while. I’ll help you out and Wesley out. It’ll be kind of fun.” Rose says in a chipper voice, but it sounds like nails on a chalkboard to my dark mood.
I grunt.
“Okay, that’s enough. Tell me what happened.” Rose says, driving like a grandma back to my house.
Once I got back to my room, Rose and Wesley were all ready to go. Strapped in his car seat, Wesley was sound asleep as Rose gave it a little rock, giving me a questioning look when I entered the room.
I’m sure I looked distraught.
I avoided her gaze as I picked up the rest of my things and shoved the discharge paperwork into my bag. I haven’t said much since we’ve gotten in the car, trying to figure out how the hell I got myself into this situation.
A week ago, I thought I would be passing over my child to a better family and starting something new with Jackson. I thought it was for the best.
Then I went to thinking the three of us could be a family. It’s what Jackson wanted. We could beat the odds and be together, grow something special.
Now it’s just me and Wesley, and I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do.
