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Words failed me, and all I could do was fight for us. He was worth the hurt and devastation along with my tears and sorrow, my love, my devotion, the uncertainty of a future that felt destined from day one.
Trying to hold my heart together, I placed my hand over my chest. Arguing, “You don’t mean that.”
“You have no idea how much I do.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. “You can’t do this to me again.”
Sweeping the hair away from my face, he tucked it behind my ear. “I don’t have a choice, kid.”
“Yes, you do. Choose me, Julian. I love you. I’m in love with you.”
He didn’t answer, barely demonstrating any emotion. I did the only thing I could. I bared my heart and soul to him, only to have him crush it into a million tiny pieces.
“What do you want from me, Autumn?”
“I want you to fight for me! Who cares about my parents and Christian? This is our lives, and if we want to spend it together, then it’s no one’s business but our own.”
“I don’t see it that way.”
I started to sob, feeling like a little girl when I should have been stronger.
Harder.
However, I always wore my emotions on my sleeve. It was who I was—it was how I was made. I didn’t want to shatter in front of him, breaking like a cheap piece of glass.
At this point, I’d come this far, and I couldn’t hold back. Openly bawling, I asked, “Why don’t you want me? Why don’t you love me like I love you?”
“Oh, kid…” He tugged me into his arms, holding me close to his heart while I broke down. Proving to him I was just a child, begging the man I was hopelessly in love with to love me back.
I cried in a way I never had, sobbing until I felt as though I had no more tears to shed.
Words to say.
Pain to feel.
It was all a clusterfuck of emotions and memories. Good times that were some of the best days of my entire life. Where nothing else mattered but being with him.
In his presence.
His bed.
His heart.
Home.
He was always my home, and for the life of me I didn’t understand why I couldn’t be his.
“Autumn, I’m barely hanging on by a thread here. Please don’t cry over me.”
“Then stop making me.”
“Baby…” He picked me up and carried me to his bed. Laying me down, he hovered above my body, and I desperately wanted to remember the feel of him on top of me.
Using this position to my advantage, I expressed, “Why am I not good enough for you?”
“It’s the other way around.”
“Why won’t you be brave like me?”
