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Rage fills my veins, and before he gets a single word out, I end the call, tossing my phone down on the couch as I press my hands to my temples and try not to scream.
I’ve said it before, and I’m sure I’ll say it a million times more; Izaac Banks is impossible. Hell, if I knew being the woman he currently takes pleasure in would drive me insane, perhaps I would have reconsidered my lifetime crush on the asshole.
The phone rings again, and I clench my jaw, knowing I should ignore it, but there’s too much fight left in my veins. If he wants to have it out, then I’m all for it. Scooping the phone up, I hit accept and press it to my ear, only before I can even think of a slew of insults to throw at him, he beats me to it. “Did you just hang up on me?”
“Of course I did,” I throw back at him. “You’re an asshole, and I’ll happily do it again.”
“Just . . . fuck! Don’t hang up, okay? I just . . . I don’t understand what the fuck is going on with you. One minute you were into it and the next you flew out the fucking door. Again. I thought we talked about this. If you have something to say, then fucking say it.”
“Ha,” I scoff. “Right back at ya.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Is he serious right now? Can he honestly not see what’s going on between us, can’t even pull his head out of his ass long enough to see how things are starting to shift, that he’s falling for me just as much as I’ve fallen for him? But hell, if he wants to ignore it, then so be it. “You know what? If you haven’t figured it out by now, then who the hell am I to try and help you along?”
The need to hang up on the bastard pounds through my veins, but I try to keep what composure I can as I listen to his frustrated groan. “Last night,” he starts, a clear cringe in his tone. “It wasn’t just some quick fuck. It was—”
He cuts himself off, and it only frustrates me more. “It was what? It meant more than that?”
“No,” he says, not bothering to sugarcoat his rejection.
“Ahh, so it was just a quick fuck then. Thanks a lot. You really know how to make a woman feel valued.”
“Fuck, Aspen. I—”
“Do me a favor,” I say, my voice shaking as I feel a thick lump appear in the back of my throat, tears threatening to spill over my eyes. “The next time you’re looking for some whore to sink your dick into, leave me out of it. I’m not down with being used as some wet hole for you to fuck.”
“That’s not what it was,” he insists.
“Then go ahead and enlighten me,” I tell him. “The floor is all yours. What was it?”
Izaac falls silent, and I shake my head, disappointment swelling in my chest.
“Why am I not surprised?” I scoff, never having felt so small and irrelevant in my life. “You’ve tiptoed around it all week, and every time you touch me, I can feel that it means something to you, but you’re too fucking scared to admit it. You’re a coward, Izaac.”
Not prepared to allow him to break me further, I end the call and crash down onto the couch, my face buried in my hands as the tears fall. I sit there for twenty minutes, my world crumbling out from beneath me as I curl up with my blanket, desperately wishing things could be different. Wishing he could just love me the way I’ve always needed him to.
The phone rings again, and as I look toward it, my heart sinks.
I know I shouldn’t answer. I should let it ring out and cut this off before he’s able to hurt me further, but I’m a sucker for punishment, and where Izaac is involved, I’ll always come running.
Answering the call, I simply lift it to my ear, not willing to keep fighting with him. He’s silent too, neither of us knowing what to say or where to go from here, but I’m done wondering, done waiting around for something that’ll never happen.
“Are you ever going to love me, Izaac?” I murmur, the tears starting all over again.
The silence is heavy, and I know exactly what he’s going to say before the word is forced from his lips. “No, Aspen. I can’t. I won’t.”
I nod, the weight of his words pulverizing my heart into a million fractured pieces. “Okay,” I say with a shaky breath, the tears rolling down my cheeks. “Don’t call me again.”
And with that, I hang up one final time before finally allowing myself to truly crumble. Pulling my blanket back over me, I curl up on the couch and sob against the armrest. I never should have gone into this arrangement with hopes that Izaac would fall for me. It was stupid.
But I was so close.
I had everything I ever wanted within reach, and yet no matter how much I put myself out there, I’ll never be enough for him. I will never have his heart, his affection, his unconditional love.
It’s time to move on, time to find someone capable of loving me the way I need, and despite how hard it’s going to be for me to let go, I need to try. Besides, there could be someone out there for me and he’s just been waiting all this time, only I’ve been too blinded by a stupid childhood crush to see it.
My gaze settles on a napkin left discarded on my coffee table, and I can’t help but reach for it, finding Harrison’s number scrawled across it, the napkin torn in places where he was too heavy with the pen. My heart doesn’t race, and it sure as hell doesn’t feel like this is about to be some monumental, earth-shattering moment in my life, but I owe it to myself to try.
