Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
His head turned sharply toward me, but he didn’t say anything.
“Dallas, it’s okay.” I wanted to touch him, but I didn’t. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white. He was breathing hard through his nose. “I don’t care what … conditions you might have. I just want to be with you.”
“But you would care,” he said bitterly. “You’d feel sorry for me. You’d have to take care of me, and I don’t want that. I don’t want anyone’s pity.”
His words were familiar. He’d just used them last night, hadn’t he? When he was talking about—
It hit me.
“Oh, Dallas.” I covered my mouth with both hands.
He still hadn’t moved, but I could see how taut the muscles in his neck were.
I spoke softly. “It’s not your dad with the brain tumor, is it?”
“Get out of the car, Maren.”
“Dallas, don’t do this.” I put my hands on his arm. “Don’t push me away because of your pride. Let me be here for you. Let me—”
“No!” he roared, shaking me off. “No. I’m sorry I hurt you, okay? I’m sorry for what I did then, I’m sorry for what I’m doing now, I’m sorry about my entire fucking existence on this earth, but this ends here. Now.”
“Don’t say that,” I begged, crying again. “Please, can’t we talk about this? I want to know what—”
“No, Maren. No. I don’t want to talk about it with you. Now go inside and forget about me.”
“What if I can’t?” I sobbed. “What if you’re the only man I’ll ever love?”
He closed his eyes and swallowed. “You’ll find someone better.”
“But I love you!”
“No, you don’t.” His voice had gone wooden. “You love the idea of me. And I loved the idea of you. We were trying to recapture something from the past when life was simpler.”
“You don’t mean that.” I cried harder, wiping my nose with my hand.
“Yes, I do. I didn’t want to say these things to you, but you’re not giving me any choice.” He was looking at me with hard eyes. I barely recognized him. “I don’t love you, Maren. I don’t love anyone.”
“Then why did you come here?”
He didn’t answer me right away. Then he looked out the windshield again. “I wanted you off my conscience.”
I sat there crying, trying to let it sink in that this was it—he didn’t want to see me again. He didn’t love me. As it turns out, I was just an item on his bucket list.
And he had a brain tumor.
Panic eclipsed my broken heart for a moment. My mind raced, desperately trying to recall what he’d told me about his father. “The surgery, Dallas. Everything you told me about your dad’s treatment options. That was all about you?”
He didn’t answer.
“Please. Please have the operation.” I put my hands on his arm again, and he let me. “If you don’t want me, fine, but don’t throw your life away because you don’t want anyone’s pity. Please, Dallas, if you ever loved me. Listen to the doctor. Have the surgery.”
He swallowed and spoke quietly. “I’ll think about it.”
“Will you … will you let me know what you decide?”
“No. A clean break is better, Maren. For both of us. Now go.”
Fresh tears spilled over. He was rejecting me. Again. My heart was crushed, my soul shattered.
“Okay, Dallas. You win. I’ll go.” I put my hand on the door handle and pulled.
Stop me. Tell me you’re lying. Wake me up from this nightmare.
But he let me go without saying another word, and I got out of the car, slammed the door, and ran inside my house.
I locked the front door behind me and ran back to my bedroom in the dark, where I threw myself on my bed and cried into my pillow.
This couldn’t be happening, I kept telling myself. There was no way. How could anyone’s life take as many zig-zag turns as mine had in the last two days? I didn’t know which end was up.
I sobbed and sobbed, my body shuddering, my eyes burning, my voice going hoarse. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried so hard—probably when Dallas had disappeared the first time. After that, I swore I’d never let anyone hurt me that way again.
And here I was. Heartbroken and alone and desperately afraid for Dallas. Would he be okay? Would he have the operation? Would I ever see him again?
And why didn’t he love me like I loved him?
I screamed into my pillow, pounded my fists into the mattress, kicked my feet like a child throwing a tantrum. Anger worked its way beneath my sorrow.
Fuck him! Fuck his lies and his careless words and his broken promises! Fuck him for kissing me like he meant it! Fuck him for making me think we had a chance! Fuck him for making me love him again and then breaking my heart! And fuck me for trusting him again—what was wrong with me?