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“Look,” he sighed, not wanting to say the words that were about to come from his lips. “I think it’s best if?—”
“You’re not breaking up with me,” she blurted. His mouth stayed open, but nothing came out. Not a breath. Not a word. He was too shocked at her fierce, final tone to do anything. “When are you coming back home?”
He didn’t have an answer for that. He didn’t know, and if he was being totally honest, he didn’t know if he wanted to. He couldn’t handle living in the same town as her, knowing she was only blocks away from him. He knew being so close to her, yet not being able to see her, to touch her, to love her, would slowly kill him.
But would being somewhere else, somewhere further away, really be better? He honestly didn’t know what would be worse. Either way, he knew she’d be constantly on his mind.
“I don’t know,” he finally said, his voice thick. His eyes burned, and he roughly rubbed one then the other with the heel of his palm.
“I’ll be here.” Her voice sounded strong, stronger than he’d ever heard before, and a part of him was proud of her for it. Another part hated that she felt she had to be strong. Whether for his sake or hers, he didn’t know. “But, um…”
There she was.
“Well…”
She sounded softer, more shy now, and his curiosity piqued. “What is it, pr—” He cut himself off before he could call her pretty girl. Pain shot through his chest. Fuck, he missed her so much.
“Well, my stuffies are at your house, and I can’t get in,” she muttered. “I haven’t been sleeping well without Ottie?—”
“Fuck,” he breathed, scrubbing his hand over his face. How much more of a bastard could he be? “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said quickly. “I just—I wanted Ottie, and Sealy?—”
“I’ll be home tomorrow.” He’d give her her stuffies, then head back to New York, or maybe he’d go to some secluded cabin to wallow in his self-loathing a bit longer.
She was silent for a few long moments. “I miss you, Daddy,” she whispered, and it felt like she’d ripped his heart out and stomped on it.
“I miss you too, pretty girl.” His voice was choked, nearly inaudible as he spoke. “But?—”
“No buts.”
“Abbie,” he sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “You don’t want someone like me. You want someone else—someone with money, and without a record. Someone?—”
“Don’t tell me what I want,” she said firmly, and his brows rose. “I want you. Only you. Stop being such a stubborn rat.” Despite himself, a smile spread across his face.
“A stubborn rat?” he repeated, unable to keep the humor out of his voice.
“A big, old stubborn rat. Stop being one. Or I’ll—I’ll?—”
“You’ll, what?”
“I’ll spank you!”
He couldn’t hold the laugh in this time. God, he missed her so fucking much. Slowly, his smile fell, and sadness bloomed again. He didn’t know what he’d do without her.
“I don’t think this is a good idea anymore,” he muttered. She didn’t say anything, and his throat tightened.
“That’s such bullfuzzies.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Bull. Fuzzies.”
He could almost see her stomp her foot and cross her arms. But this wasn’t a conversation she could cute her way out of. Even if she thought he was what she wanted, he wasn’t. Not really. She was defying her parents, but one day, and he thought it would be soon, she’d realize she liked the life of luxury they’d provided her and she’d want that. And then she’d go back to them and marry some respectable man, and he’d just be some guy from her past. A fun time in her early twenties while she figured out who she was.
“You don’t love me anymore?” she asked, and the hurt in her voice gutted him.
“Of course, I do. But?—”
