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My tires squeal as I shoot out from the parking spot, my hands clenching the wheel and my teeth grinding together.
I can’t do this anymore.
I’ve lost the will to fight.
Ezra has finally bled me of every last drop of strength I have, and I know he won’t stop until he’s won.
Except, he can’t win because there is no solution.
The sad truth is he will just keep tearing down walls until we’re both buried beneath the rubble.
Ezra doesn’t know how to stop.
He doesn’t know hownotto fight.
I have to be the one to show him.
Ezra
I won’t accept it.
Her excuses.
Her problems.
Sure, she’s right about all of it, but I’m not bowing down to defeat. Not in this.Neverwhen it comes to her.
Like Ivy said, I took a good, long look in the mirror. I know my problems, know my weaknesses, know the nightmares that wake me up at night and shut me down.
No, I’m not the guy to come to when you need a shoulder to cry on, or even for good advice, but I am the person who tears down barriers and burns problems to the ground.
Emily has been fucking me up for years because she refuses to believe in me, refuses to see that, despite my issues, despite the life I’ve lived, despite all the bruises and cuts, the fights and violence, she is the only woman in this world who matters to me.
Yes, I’ve been a jackass with her since the engagement party. I’ve struck out with insults and barbs, snapped my teeth at her and hurt her without considering the consequences. But that’s because I was trapped by her refusal to see beyond the problems, by her stubborn hold on the belief that we couldn’t move past them.
I allowed her will to dampen my own, and that’s not how a man like me fights. That’s not how I win battles.
Emily has drawn a line, and either I lay down and die on one side of it, or I step the fuck over it and show her I’ll move mountains if that’s what it takes to make it possible for us to be together.
You know what I learned most by staring at my reflection?
That I’ll do anything for the woman I love, including chase her stubborn ass down every time she runs.
So that’s what I’m doing when I storm out of the restaurant and over to my bike. That’s what I do when I kick it into high gear and weave through traffic. That’s what I do when I pull into the driveway of her house and park behind her car.
That’s what Emily needs.
She just doesn’t know it.
She may be a queen, but she is one weighed down by guilt and obligation.
Heavy is the head that wears her fucking crown, and the only way she’ll remove it is for the beast kneeling at her feet to stand up and fight the battle that surrounds her.
This entire time.
All these years wasted.
When I could have fought for both of us instead of remaining chained down like her.
