I stare back with curiosity that makes me want to prod deeper into his words.
I thought he wanted nothing.
“I was under the impression that nothing was better,” I state, steeling my spine.
“It wasn’t.” His voice breaks with huskiness, and his tone is almost apologetic.
Almost.
I won’t make the mistake and assume anything.
“But you got what you wanted in the end,” I point out. A wave of apprehension flickers through me. I don’t want to give any sort of emotion away. It’s taken me a long time to get to where I am, where I can look at him like this and pretend away the past.
He smiles again. This time, though, it reaches his eyes. It’s more of a bleak unfinished smile. “No… it turns out I didn’t. Or we wouldn’t be standing here like this.”
My lungs squeeze as I strain against the shiver of shock that lances through me.
He turns away and walks out the door. I watch him go, his words seeping through my mind, making their way to my soul.
What the hell did he mean?
He didn’t want me. That much was clear six years ago. If that was true, though, then why did his words hold so much regret?