Fuck, it hurts. The worst part of it all is that I am questioning everything. Does Ella truly want to be with me? Or did I take advantage of a young woman who would have clung to whoever had been there for her first?
The migraine combined with the sleepless night is too much as I turn onto the drive.
If she has the same feelings for me as I do for her, then I have to fix this.
It’s like a lightning strike, and I’m turning the wheel before I can think about it. Braking. Throwing it into reverse. I’m going back.
If Ella feels that way about me, then I have to make it right, and I have to do it now. I have to hold on to her the way she deserves.
I’m not far away. It won’t be long until I can fix this.
Ella’s house appears on the side of the road out of nowhere. I’m not aware of the route I took, or anything else. I’m only aware of a fierce pounding in my heart and a twist in my gut.
Again I question myself.
Did I take advantage of her last night?
Did I take advantage of her pain and her desires? Or is all of this meant to be and it’s just a fucked-up situation that brought us together?
I only wish I could pause. To take in every detail. To make sure she’s all right. To ensure that whatever I do next, is best for her.
Quincy left me that night, and I let her. I let her walk away. What happened next was a tragedy and I’ve never regretted anything more. If I could go back, I would change it all.
I let her walk home alone while I went the other way. I knew it wasn’t safe. Nearly midnight on the city streets. I knew I should have followed her.
But then again, I knew I should have ended it with her weeks before.
I will never forgive myself if Ella doesn’t make it out of this well and whole.
I can’t be wrong again. I pull into my spot behind the house. One, two, three, four. Again I repeat the breaths. Again. Until I’m calm enough to focus. Until I’m calm enough to walk inside and make this right.
The answers aren’t hiding behind my steering wheel. The answers can only be found by seeing this through.
Then Damon comes out the back door with his coat on. Alone.
He sees me, and the corners of his mouth turn down.
And then I’m out of the car, heading for him.
His jaw is hard, the clean cut of his button-down combined with how his shoulders straighten and he stares me down as I approach. Like we’re squaring up for a fight. “You didn’t tell him,” Damon speaks low and deliberately. “You’re my friend, but I can’t let you do this.”
“No, I didn’t tell him. I’m coming here to talk to you.”
“It’s too late.”
Betrayal feels like a hot knife in my gut. “You didn’t,” I grit out from between clenched teeth. “You didn’t fucking tell him, Damon. You didn’t.”
He only stares back at me.
“Why are you out here?” It’s too much to come clean to him now, with this storm in my chest. “Is somebody else in there with her?”
Damon shakes his head. “There’s nobody inside.”
“What the fuck? You know we can’t—”
“There’s nobody inside.”
It sinks in then, what he means. I grab for the front of his jacket on instinct but Damon’s as strong as I am, and he gets me around the wrist. “You did this.”