Shame Me Not - Page 120

His hands shook when he reached up to wipe at his face. His voice vibrated through me, knocking loose the wall I’d been building in my panic. My reasons began to crumble and I was crashing. But he wasn’t done yet.

“What the fuck are we doing here if you don’t trust me? What have we been doing our whole fucking lives if you just never fucking trusted me? Huh?” he shouted. “Why the hell have I been wasting my life trying to prove to you how much you mean to me? I’ve done nothing but make it damn clear that you mean everything to me and I would never—never—do something you didn’t want.” He stood from the bed and began shoving his legs into a pair of pants before collecting the rest of his clothes. He was leaving and my chest squeezed, my heart begging me to fall to my knees and apologize as my head locked my lips together and let him go. Finally. “I know you, Ana. You’re not normal, so just stop fucking trying to be.”

My whole body jerked with the slam of door as he exited.

I’d succeeded. I’d finally made him accept my decisions and I hated myself, feeling more ashamed huddled on the bed than ever before since discovering how different I was. Bringing my knees to my chest, my forehead fell to rest against them, the tears soaking through the sheet. I wanted to scream out the rage filling me. I wanted to smash things and release the pain the slam of the door released.

All the frustration I’d directed at him shifted. Take responsibility, he’d said. He was right. I was a coward and blamed him for decisions I’d made right beside him. I curled my fists into the sheets and pinched my eyes, letting the tears fall.

I let everything happen and turned a blind eye to the fallout. Exactly what I’d done in college. Constantly burying my head in the sand and avoiding conversations that scared me.

Each realization chipped away at all my excuses. Each one poking through the crumbled wall like a ray of light, shining on a wreckage that was too late to save.

Our relationship had been built and grown on open conversations and somewhere along the way I’d dismissed it. And it wasn’t just the conversations I’d avoided. I’d spent so long pretending this part of myself didn’t exist, and what had it gotten me?

Hurt.

Over and over again I’d been hurt. When the entire time Kevin stood before me, always there for me. I’d wasted it, never being completely honest about how I felt. How often had my heart melted when he’d helped me, sacrificed for me? Had I ever told him how much he meant to me?

Never. Not once.

I wiped my eyes, trying to control the sobs shaking my chest. I couldn’t blame him for storming out on me. I’d finally pushed too far.

But now that I’d fallen from my panicked high, fear that I’d ruined everything kicked at me. His calm, rational words that hadn’t been able to penetrate earlier sat before me, so glaringly obvious. The belief that I’d clung to, thinking my desires would only ruin me, was such an obvious lie now that I could breathe. Because with Kevin, those desires make me who I am.

He was right, we could’ve figured it out and made it work for us. He was right, he never would’ve risked hurting me or my job. He was right about everything.

And I was wrong.

Chapter Forty-Six

Kevin

“Do you want another, man?” the hippie bartender asked. I stared at the beer sitting in front of me, leaving wet rings on the scarred wood and shook my head. I’d downed one as soon as I walked in and then nursed this one for over an hour.

I’d needed time to think, and I’d walked half a mile, settled on this bar, and entered with the intention to get shit-faced. Fuck, Ana. Fuck my whole life revolving around her. I’d made so many decisions for her for nothing.

Except that I loved her. I’d loved her every moment of the past ten years. Even when we were apart. Even when it wasn’t the spend-the-rest-of-our-lives-together love, it’d been the she’s-my-best-friend love.

And I knew she loved me too, but hearing her lack of trust in me had been painful. I hadn’t seen that sucker punch coming, and I’d lashed out. We were built on trust, and she’d yanked it out from under me. For what? Fear? I wanted to understand. I wanted to think back to when I was a kid, scared of discovery, but the thing was, was that I was a kid. We weren’t kids anymore. We knew better. She had to know better.

I tipped the rest of my beer back and sat it on the counter with a thud. Man, when she’d given in when I’d asked her to stay, I was sure that was it. I’d laid it out there and for the first time, she wanted it too. We were doing it. It would’ve been the start of our future. No more running and I’d been euphoric finally catching what I’d felt like I’d been chasing forever.

Tags: Fiona Cole Erotic
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