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How does someone get over an experience that traumatic?
I shudder. I can’t even imagine.
It’s easy, blaming yourself in situations like his. People go back to what they might’ve done wrong, what they didn’t do, and what they could’ve done.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I might not be able to heal him, but I can give him something he’s been asking of me. An apology. “I’m sorry for leaving and turning my back on you. I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”
He surprises me by falling to his knees and gripping my hands in his. Tears roll down his cheeks. “Tell me why you did it then.Please.For fuck’s sake, I need someone to be honest with me for once!”
I sniffle, and my hands shake under his. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Gage.”
“Oh, come on, Lauren,” he begs. “It’s been years. Tell me. Whatever it is, it's in the past. We’ll get through it.”
Is that possible?
It’ll make him lose someone else in his life.
My chin dips to my chest as I glance away from him. “I wish I could, but it’s not my story to tell.”
The skin around his eyes bunches together, and he pulls away. “Are you shitting me? I ripped myself apart and showed you my secrets and scars, and all I ask for in return is your goddamn honesty!”
I want to reach out and console him, but I don’t know what his reaction would be. “I’m sorry. This breaks my heart, but I made a promise.”
He flinches. “A promise? A promise to whom?”
“That’s part of the promise.”
“Stop bullshitting me.” He brings himself up and snorts, looking at me in disgust. “You took it upon yourself to snoop through my shit before giving me the opportunity to confide in you. Thank you for clearing up where we stand with each other.”
“I’m sorry!” I burst out, jumping up from the bed when he turns around to leave. I grab his arm and am surprised when he turns around.
“If you’re sorry, tell me why,” he hisses.
I don’t.
Instead, I kiss him.
My mouth claims his, and I bite his tongue when he attempts to continue his interrogation.
In the back of my mind, I know, when the conversation ends, so will we. He’ll leave me, like I did him, at my refusal. He grunts when I push him down on the couch, and he makes another attempt to keep up our discussion when I straddle his hips.
“Lauren,” he warns when my mouth meets his again.
I press my finger to his lips, and my voice turns weak. “Please. We can talk about this after you make me feel good.”
His erection slides against my core when I rock into him.
“After I make you feel good,” I add.
Every move I make feels like I’m walking on eggshells. The chance that Gage could pull away at any second is clear as day, and I’m drawing out everything I can get from him. When tomorrow hits, I know we’ll be over.
His arm tightens around my back, and he stands with me in tow. My mind spins with uncertainty.
Is he going to throw me out on my ass already?
His steps are fast and swift as he carries me to the bed and drops me down on it. “It’s about time I have you in here again. Maybe I can fuck the truth out of you.”
He stands in front of me and undresses while I do the same. There will be no intimate touches this time. No love devotions. It’s sex at the wrong time, but in the back of my mind, I’m aware it’s sex for the last time.
