Page 11 of Ache
Weird does not begin to describe that man.
I drop my clutch on the table, kick the door closed, and in a zombie state head straight for my bedroom. Sleep. Now, I internally whine. The crack of sun breaking through the horizon burns my tired eyes, but it’s the voice that flits through the room that really reduces me to ash.
“Late night?” His tone is soft but firm, and oh so judgmental.
“I’m a big girl. I can come home when I want.” I can barely stand up straight, my knees fighting against the edge of the mattress to keep me vertical. I just want to face plant into my pillow and pass out. That doesn’t look like it’s in my foreseeable future.
“I know you are.” My visitor shifts in the corner. Arms and legs crossed, lounging comfortably against the wall.
“How long have you been standing there?” I eye him.
“A while.” He isn’t amused.
I couldn’t care less if he is or isn’t. He could stand there for eternity for all I give a shit.
“Maybe drop a note next time you feel like blowing back into town. I’ll make sure to take a vacation so you don’t have to bothervisitingme.”
Not a muscle on his body twitches in response to my scathing reply.
I don’t affect him at all. In hindsight, I realize I never did. “What do you want, Tage?” I get right to the point. Sleep is calling to me, and I’m in no mood to entertain him. I’m in no mood to entertain anyone.
“I need to check up on you. It’s my job.”
“Checking up on me hasn't been your job in a very long time.” I’m twenty-four, for Christ’s sake. I’ve been surviving on my own without him for long enough.
“Checking up on you will always be my job.” Tage pushes off the wall and strides toward me. My bedroom is small, so it only takes him three large steps to settle beside me. Too close. I inhale a collective breath as indiscreetly as I can. I don’t want him to know he still affects me. That some days I still ache for him so badly it brings tears to my eyes. He broke my fucking heart and left me holding all the shattered pieces. There are still scars on my palm and a hole in my chest from the wreckage.
“Maybe it’s time you take up a new career.” I cross my arms and stand strong. He will not topple me. He will not see.
“Never.” Tage tickles the bow dangling against my arm. My skin erupts into goosebumps, and I bite down on my tongue to stop myself from screaming at him.
I hate you.
I love you.
I wish I had never met you.
“You look . . .” The sentence hangs in the atmosphere.
“Perfectly fine without you…?” I take the liberty of finishing for him.
“…breathtaking.”He invokes his own liberties and corrects me.
The single word stabs me square in the heart.
I don’t respond. I can’t bring myself to even utter a small thank you.
I stare straight ahead, counting the divots in my comforter. It’s the only thing that can keep my mind occupied. The only thing that can block him out.Why is he doing this? Why now? Why at all? Why couldn’t he just walk away and stay away?Every time I see him, the half-healed wound gets ripped wide open, and all the suppressed feelings — the devastation, the heartache, the pain — shoots right back up to the surface.
Please leave and never come back.
I silently wish it but don’t have the balls to say it.
Just let me move on.
I steal one last look at Tage. His golden-blond hair is a long wavy mess on the top of his head, there are bags under his gorgeous, hazel eyes, and his T-shirt is dirty. It makes me wonder what he’s been up to. I never know. I never know where he goes or what he does when he disappears for months at a time, and I never know when he’s going to reappear again.
He’s a mystery. He always has been, since the moment we met. But regardless of the time that’s passed, he still bewitches me as much now as he did back then.
