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Maybe he’ll kill me this time.
When the clock strikes nine, I pause at the doors. My fingers dip into my pocket, grazing over my phone and the emergency shortcut on the side. And then I take a breath and step onto the street.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Let’s Go Home
For a moment nothing happens. The street is busy, and I stand back a little away from the curb so I don’t get splashed as cars drive through the puddles.
He walks up to my side and wraps his arms around me, burying his face in the crook of my neck. He smells like beer. His body shakes, but I don’t hold him. My hands remain in my pockets as he cries.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he whispers, voice cracking. His arms tighten around me. ‘God, I’ve missed you so much.’
I hate that I’ve done this to him. I’ve destroyed him by shutting him out. I don’t feel gleeful about it. I never wanted to hurt him. Leaving him was never about him.
My fingers itch to touch him, to comfort him for the wounds I’ve made, but I grit my teeth. Lift my chin.
Archer pulls back, his hands coming up to cup my cheeks, and I don’t stop him as he presses his lips to mine. I just don’t move. Don’t reciprocate anything. Once I would have given anything for this man to kiss me, but now it turns my stomach.
I close my eyes against the hurt that flashes in his. I don’t wipe my tears as they fall silently, but he does. ‘Talk to me, love,’ he says.
I cleave open. My heart and my lungs and my mind. Every moment flits behind my closed lids: his smirk as he rounds the corner in the girl’s bathroom at school, the press of his hands at the back of my legs, the fear and excitement of having his hand on my thigh; in his bedroom with him, pressed against the door; his eyes glassy and raw with emotion as he strides up my porch, his hair wet with rain; in the back of his car, his body moving against mine, the gasp of his name on my lips; the glint of his chain in the streetlight and the warmth of his body as he carries me to his car, tucking me into his side and holding me until I fall asleep; his mouth against my skin,I love you I love you I love you.
But I block out those moments, my mind on the night at the kebab shop. The sting in my temple and blood sticky on my skin. That’s when he lost me. Not last week or every time he struck me or spat at me. But the very first time he did.
I think a part of me refused to love him after that.
How could I ever open myself up to him when I kept him at arm’s length to protect myself?
‘Frankie.’ My name is a gasp—desperate and urgent, as if he tore it from the deepest part of himself. ‘Frankie. Look at me. Please.’
I do.
I look at him.
And I feel only heartbreak. Whether it’s his or my own, I can’t tell.
He smiles slightly, relieved. ‘You came back.’
I didn’t. I didn’t want to do this now. I wanted to wait until I was ready, but I was stupid to think I’d ever be ready to break up with him. As if there would ever be a right time.
He seems to note the pain in my gaze, because he swallows audibly, his smile fading. ‘Let’s go home. We can talk. Sort this out.’ He grabs my hands, but I don’t move.
Home. That place was never my home; it was my prison. My cage. As if we could talk this out; as if things wouldn’t be okay for a week until they return back to how they were. I know that now, that he always told me what I wanted to hear so I’d go back to him. His promises meant nothing.
I stare at him, hating the surge of satisfaction at the deep circles beneath his eyes, the stubble on his jaw. I know this is going to break him. I know it’s going to break me. I know I’m going to hate every part of it. But the only thing holding myself to him is me.
I’m vaguely aware of Chase behind me, leaning against the bonnet of his car. And maybe it’s his presence that makes me step back, out of Archer’s grip, but I’d like to think it’s my own strength.
He clings to me, stepping up to me again. ‘Please don’t do this,’ he says. ‘I need you.’
I owe him nothing. Not an explanation. A reason. So I give him the only thing he deserves.
‘Goodbye, Archer,’ I say, surprised at the steeliness in my voice.
He blinks—and then his grip tightens to the point of pain. ‘I won’t let you leave—‘
‘Look at me—‘
