I’ve gotten short kisses, but nothing else. It feels different.
It’s a way that makes me feel uneasy.
It’s a way that makes me feel like the end is here and I was right all along.
All the flutters stop and the butterflies fall into a deep pit in my stomach.
That’s the way he’s making me feel.
The hall light flicks on and Daniel’s large frame takes up the opening of the narrow passage. He doesn’t look at me as he strides to the kitchen, walking right behind the sofa. He’s not talking to me, but he doesn’t want to leave either.
I can’t take this. I prepare myself to type up the email telling Rae what I’d like to say to Daniel. Before I can even type a word I get fed up and slam it shut, turning sideways to face him. All of my frustration and nervous feelings snowball together into nothing but anger.
This time he’s looking right at me.
“Something’s wrong.” That’s all I can say and instead of answering me, Daniel reaches for a mug from the cabinet.
“Could you give me something?” I ask him with all this pent-up frustration and shove the laptop onto the coffee table. “You’ve barely looked at me, spoken to me, or touched me. Something happened or something’s wrong, and if it’s us I need to know.”
Silence. I get silence in return. “If it’s just work, you can tell me.” My voice cracks and I hate that I’m so emotional while he gives me nothing.
It would be easy for him to simply say it has nothing to do with us. I can accept that. But he doesn’t and that’s when the sick feeling that’s been twisting my gut all day travels to my heart.
I’m already halfway to him, determined to get some answers when he finally says something.
“I have to leave tomorrow night.”
My bare feet stop on the cold tile floor in front of him. “That quick?”
“Either then or the next morning at the latest.”
I swallow down my heart and breathe out somewhat in relief, but it’s short-lived as I cross my arms over my chest. “You have to leave?” I ask him that question because the other one is too scared to leave me.
What happens to us?
He answers the unspoken question. “I want you to come home with me.”
“Home?” I say the word with a humorless huff and pull out one of the chairs at the kitchen island. I don’t know where home is. Taking a seat, I tell him, “Are you sure they’ll even want me there?”
It’s hard to swallow when I look at him. I can say goodbye to the idea of college, or at least this college, easily. But facing his brothers? That’s something else entirely.
“They’ll be happy to see you again.” He says the words with compassion, but there’s something there, something else that he’s holding back.
“When did you find out you need to leave?” I ask, prying for more answers.
“Last night.” He clears his throat and adds, “It’s not my brothers that I’m worried about. It’s you … deciding to leave me again.”
“Stop it,” I snap at him and then correct myself. “Why would you even say something like that?”
“I’ve done some things,” he says and then leaves the empty mug on the counter. It’s quiet and all I can hear is the sound of my heart beating as he takes a seat on the sofa in the living room. Although I know something bad is coming, I follow him, taking the cue to sit next to him.
“You’re scaring me again,” I whisper to him with a pleading voice and wait for him to look at me.
With his elbows on his knees, his head is just a smidge lower than mine as he turns to look at me and says, “It’s because I’m a bad man. That’s what bad men do. They scare people.”
“I told you to stop it,” I tell him as I reach up to put a hand on his broad shoulders. His shirt is stretched tight, making him seem caged beneath it. “You’re a good person inside. I know you are.”
“You think I’m good?” he says with an air of disbelief and then he turns to look straight ahead. When he speaks again, it’s as if the words aren’t directed at me. “I’m sure you think you can see the good in everyone.”
“I don’t like you talking like this. Seriously. You need to stop.” I find myself struggling to speak. “I don’t know what’s making you say these things, but you have to stop.”
“I think I should tell you something.” Daniel speaks as he runs his finger around the lip of the coffee table in front of him. He focuses on it as the silence stretches out and I wait.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me.” My heart flickers, the light going out for a moment. Maybe from fear, or maybe from knowing it’s a lie I’ve spoken. There are so many things Daniel could say that would destroy me. But he knows that already.
“You’re so breakable, Addison.”
I huff a laugh, although it’s drowned out by relief. “Is that the big news? Because I knew that already.”
His dark eyes lift to meet mine and the intensity swirling within is something I haven’t felt for a long time.
“No, that’s not the news, but it’s why I don’t want to tell you.”
My shoulders rise with a heavy breath. “If you have something to tell me, then I want to hear it.”
Daniel relaxes his posture, sitting back and sinking into the cushion of the sofa as he stares at me. His hands are folded in his lap and I can tell he’s deciding. Judging. And I allow it.
Because he’s right. I am breakable. And the last person I want to break me is him.
He clears his throat, bringing his fist to his mouth and then looks at the decorative pillow that’s next to him. I suppose it’s just so he doesn’t have to look at me. He runs his thumbnail over the fabric of the sofa as he talks, busying his hands. “When Tyler died, you left and didn’t say goodbye.”
I nod my head and ready myself to answer, leaning forward and even scooting slightly closer. He has to know how ashamed and riddled with guilt I was. I could barely speak to anyone.
I wanted to tell them all goodbye, but I couldn’t even look them in the eye.
My words are halted when Daniel continues, not waiting for a response from me at all.
“And when I went to your house,” he pauses and licks his lips before moving his gaze to mine. “I could lie to you here, and say you were already gone.”
My heart beats hard and my breathing halts from the danger that flashes in his stare.
“But you hadn’t left yet and so I watched you pack. I wanted to pack too. I didn’t want to stay where Tyler had just walked, just sat. Where I’d just listened to him tell me about that beat-up truck he wanted to fix but never would.” Daniel runs his thumb along his lower lip as his eyes gloss over. “I wanted to run like you wanted to, but I didn’t think I would be capable until I saw you do it.”
“You watched me leave?” I ask him, not knowing where this is going, but fearing what he has to say because of his tone and bearing. Because of how the air thickens and threatens to strangle me. As if even it would rather I be dead than for Daniel to destroy me with the history between us.
“I wish it were as easy as that,” he says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I watched you board the train with that heavy suitcase, and I got on too. I watched you check in to a motel four cities over. And I requested a room next to yours.”