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“Milo.”
He sighs. “I’m not comfortable with you working there, Kennedy. Your mom knows you work there, and right now I just want you to focus on feeling better. If you need to nap for most of the day, go for it. If you need to take three showers and just lie in the dark, do that. You’ll have enough responsibilities with school and just… coping. There’s no reason to waste your energy at a job you don’t need. It’s done now, so there’s no point arguing with me about it.”
I sigh. I’m not really annoyed I don’t have to keep working at a job I hated, but God, is he bossy. “Are you grumpy?” I ask, peering up at him.
“Probably. I haven’t slept well the past couple of nights.”
That’s obviously my fault.
“I’m sorry.” I pull closer to him, looking up at his handsome face. I feel immense guilt for the stress I’ve put him through. I want to ease it, so I reach up to caress his face, then I try to pull him in for a kiss.
He must feel me pulling, but he doesn’t lean in and kiss me.
My stomach twists up.
He doesn’t want to kiss me?
He hasn’t said a single thing to make me doubt he still wants to be with me, but this silence is teeming with doubt. Maybe they’re all mine, but there’s no way to tell.
The silence feels dangerous.
Our relationship right now is like a damaged ship on choppy waters, and I know he has been assuring me we’d get to shore, but what if that’s just what people say when they don’t want you to give up? He was afraid I was going to hurt myself. Can I really trust what he said? Even last night, it was so nice to connect sexually with him again, but Jonathan pushed him into that. It wasn’t Milo’s idea.
Am I pushing myself on him?
What if he doesn’t really want me anymore, he’s just too afraid to say that because he thinks I’m too fragile to handle it?
I replay some of the things he’s said about how he’ll always love me and he’ll always be there for me no matter what, how they’re my family now, and my security here will never be tied to a sexual relationship with a man—not even him.
I thought he was just being really amazing and supportive, but what if he was trying to inch out of this relationship?
My stomach feels sick again. I let my hand fall, not wanting to touch him when I feel like maybe it isn’t what he wants.
I roll on my back and look up at the ceiling, trying not to feel choked with fear that his reassurances are just him being gentle with me.
It feels like my heart has been shot through and riddled with holes. I know that’s not his fault. The firing commenced the moment I stepped into my mother’s apartment after I left that hotel, and we’ve all taken shots at it since.
But the death blow, the loss I’m not sure I can survive…
It’s losing him.
But I can’t tell him that. He’s too good a man to leave me if he thinks…
God, I’m such a mess.
Who could ever want a mess like me?
I cover my face with my hands. The room is dark, but not dark enough. I need to disappear completely.
“Kennedy?”
The concern in his voice is like a knife through my stomach. I lower my hands and try to act like I’m not aching as much as I am.
I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I can keep going just because he wants me to.
“Kennedy,” he says more insistently, rolling over and wrapping an arm around my waist, pulling me close.
It doesn’t feel good like it always has before. It feels like I’m emotionally blackmailing him into loving me, and that’s the last thing I would ever want.
