Page 3 of The Striker
I wasn’t afforded that luxury.
Julio steps further into the room, eyes searching mine for answers I don’t have. “Then talk to me. I’ve always had your back, but I can’t do anything if you shut me and everyone else out.”
I scrub both hands roughly down my face, throat tightening around all the things I want to say, but can’t seem to voice.
He’s not wrong. I’ve been pushing him and the others away when I know all they want is to help me. Problem is, I don’t want their help. I don’t want to deal with any of this.
“I don’t even know how to process this myself right now,” I force out hoarsely, unable to meet his gaze. “Let alone talk through it. What Cecilia said ...” I trail off, shaking my head as the echo of her words threatens to drag me back down into the abyss.
Fuck.
What is wrong with me? I don’t get like this. Not over a girl. I’m not this guy. Never have been. So why the fuck is this shit hitting me so goddamn hard?
Julio grips my shoulder, his palm rough and warm. Grounding. “Tell me what happened, man. Start there.”
Sucking in a sharp breath, I shake my head.
“Come on, man. Try.” Knowing Julio, he’s going to keep poking until I cave. May as well get it over with now and just tear off the damn band-aid.
“She ended things. Said she didn’t want this. Didn’t want me.” I repeat Cecilia’s speech aloud for the first time, and with each word I say, I watch as Julio’s expression sinks more and more into one of pity.
I don’t want his pity. Though it’s obvious I have it.
I force out the last of my words, making sure to get it all out. If pushed again, I won’t be able to rehash this shit a second time. Just voicing her rejection aloud leaves me raw. Wounded.
But there it is. All of it. I don’t leave a single detail out.
My pathetic confession hangs heavy between us. Admitting it out loud doesn’t grant the respite I think either of us hoped for. It only intensifies the crushing weight on my chest. Why do people think talking about this kind of shit will make them feel better? It doesn’t.
Fuck.
I rub a hand over my chest.
It hurts. This feeling. It fucking hurts, and I need to figure out some way to make it go away.
Julio squeezes my shoulder, tone softening. “Damn. I’m sorry, man. I know how much she meant to you.”
Does he, though? My throat tightens around the bitter lump expanding inside my throat. Cecilia isn’t some casual fling I can move on from overnight. She’s so much more than that. She’s … everything.
“I thought we had something real. Something that could go the distance.” My voice cracks on the admission. But I saw a future with this girl. “I know she has shit to deal with. Of course, I know that. But …” I hang my head. “It felt real. It felt like more than just … I don’t know.” I rub the back of my neck. “Guess it was all one-sided. Whatever it was. She made it crystal clear where she stands.”
Julio nods, eyes shining with sympathy. “I know it’s hard to hear, but maybe this is a good thing. I hate to see you hurting like this. We all do. But you said it yourself, she’s got her own shit to work through. Letting her go sounds like the right call.”
I jerk sharply out of his grasp. “Letting her go?” I repeat incredulously. As if my feelings for Cecilia can be boxed up and set aside like this week’s trash. “Are you fucking with me right now?”
His dark brows draw together.
I’m not letting her go. Julio’s one of my best friends. He’s not supposed to tell me to move on. He’s supposed to, I don’t know, give me advice or some shit on how to get her back.
“You’re an asshole,” I tell him.
Resentment simmers in my veins. I know why Cecilia is pushing me away. She’s scared of needing someone. Scared of relying on me too much to keep her demons at bay.
But she shouldn’t be. And yeah, she ended shit, but I’m not giving up on us that easily. Right?
Right.
The more and more I think about it, the more determination settles in my bones. I’m not going to just lie down and let herpush me out of her life. Not when she’s shut out everyone else around her.
