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“I’ve got to go. I’m sorry.” Screw the coffee. If I stand here another second, I’m going to break down.
Even as my feet carry me to the door, my heart aches to pull me back toward him.
“Just tell me who!” His voice is the crack of a whip. The hurt in his tone is malevolent as it slithers into me, tucking itself into the ancient cracks in my soul.
My spine straightens almost painfully, the realization that he doesn’t know hits me like a semi-truck. “Who, what?” I whisper, too cowardly to face him again.
“Who knocked you up?” He growls this from beside me, right adjacent my ear. The closest I’ve been to Law in fourteen years. It hurts like a physical ache to have his body so near, but emotionally, he’s never been further away.
My head tips forward, too heavy to support with the weight of guilt engulfing me like the unforgiving sea “It doesn’t matter.”
“Matters to me. Matters whose dick was so important you’d throw everything we shared away. Dammit, you dropped out of school and left town without so much as a note in my mailbox where you went. Do you know what that did to me?”
Agony.
He tries to conceal it, but it burns through his words and his tone like a hot iron, branding us both. It scores itself onto my heart next to all the other marks from leaving him in the first place.
“Law, I-?.
He leans in. “Lawrence,” he spits.
“L-Lawrence.” The tremble in my voice vibrates the surrounding air. His name feels foreign on my tongue, having not spoken it aloud in a decade and a half. “I’m sorry for what I did. But I have to go.”
As I push through the door, I long for him to chase after me. He just stands there, the love of my past, glaring at me as if he wishes I was dead.
I feel withered and decayed inside.
So much so, even the rain slapping against my scalp when I forget to open my umbrella does nothing to pull me out of my trance. I’m halfway down the next block before I realize I’m soaked from the rain and finally open the stupid thing.
