[Kelley’s] words feel like a sharp knife to my gut. I grind my teeth together, trying to stop the pain from tearing through my chest. “I never forced you to stay. If you didn’t want this you should have said so.”
“Well I’m saying it now! I need love, Ry, true love, not whatever we have…this just hurts. If I want to give fate a chance I have to stop messing around by pretending this fake relationship means something more.”
That makes me grunt sarcastically before raising my own voice to shout. “Fate could be pounding down your fucking door, Kell, but you’d be too busy dreaming to even hear it. Although apparently unless a guy is riding some sissy fucking white horse it means nothing. You think that shit is real? Maybe love is supposed to fucking hurt and that’s how you know it’s real.” I motion between us. “We’re real. This is real. You spout all this bullshit about true love but I don’t think you even know what that fucking means.” I turn and grip the back of my head, frustrated she can be so blind to what’s right in front of her. If I can see it, why the hell can’t she? Maybe I haven’t been the best about verbally expressing my feelings, but haven’t my actions proven anything?
Things get real quiet before I hear her speak in a near whisper behind me. “You just think it’s real because we’ve been pretending for so long we can’t tell where the lie ends and the truth begins.”
I hear a soft clink before the door opens and closes with a final thud.
I turn to find my grandmother’s ring resting on the cold, bare counter next to a loop of twine. That, along with the torment of her words ringing in my ears, keeps me from going after her. I put my heart on the fucking line only to have it ripped to shreds. She doesn’t want me. She doesn’t want us. Why should she? I was an asshole to think I could be different for her. My half-assed attempt at love wasn’t enough, and I don’t fucking blame her for wanting more. I let my guard down to give into some sweet, sick craving, and, like all addicts, am left with nothing but pain. Pain I feel, pain I caused. My past finally caught up to me and in the end I’m like my father, just like I tried to avoid in the first place. Great fucking job, Blake.
I storm into the kitchen and tear open the top cabinet, tossing shit aside until I find the one thing I’m looking for buried in the back. I forcefully break the seal on the bottle of Jack and pour a generous amount into a glass. Desperate to do anything that will numb the fucking throbbing agony twisting deep in the pit of my chest, I bring the cup to my lips. At the last second before it reaches my tongue, I catch a glimpse of my damaged reflection rippling through the bottom of the amber liquid. Fuck! I pull my arm back and violently throw it with full force against the kitchen wall. With my head in my hands I slink down amidst the broken glass, letting the liquor pool on the floor around me.
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