The Reason I Stay (34 page)

She laughs that sarcastic laugh again. “How did you take responsibility for your past if you didn’t even acknowledge it to me?”

“I reached out to Lea. I sent her an email the night we started dating. She never replied, but I tried, and that’s the best I can do. Try.”

Lexie’s eyes open so wide they nearly pop out of her head. She fists her hands in her hair, and pushes past me as she gets up from the bed. I watch from my prostrate position as she paces for a while. Then she looks at me, shakes her head, and with a groan, storms out of the room.

Desperate, I get up from the floor, nearly tripping on my own feet, and follow her. “Where are you going?”

She doesn’t look at me. “I need air. And distance. And . . .” She turns on her heel to look at me. “Are you an idiot?”

I blink a few times, not understanding why she’s asking that, but knowing for a fact that my deer-in-the-headlights expression is answering her question with a big, fat yes.

“An email?” She closes her fists and shakes her head with anger. “The woman loses a leg. You leave her alone, and months later you send her a fucking email? And even worse, you actually believe that you’re not the asshole you were when I met you because you
tried
. You think that
trying
is actually taking responsibility for your actions? Things don’t work like that. Apologies without actions don’t mean shit.”

Lexie takes several deep breaths, and turns toward the back porch door. She takes a few steps toward it. Like a paper clip following a magnet, I walk too, but then she stops and turns to look at me.

“Oh my God, Mathew,” she blurts out those words again. “Do you think that if the little idiot who killed Leigh had written us an email apologizing, things would be okay? Do you think that if my mother had left me a letter saying she was sorry she abandoned me, things would be fine? Kyle apologized in person many times; do you think I should forgive him?”

“Those aren’t fair comparisons.”

“The hell they aren’t. It’s all the same. You’re all the same and I knew that the day I met you. I knew you were trouble. I knew you’d break my heart, but I’m stupid and you said pretty words, so I gave it to you anyways. I gave you my mended heart’s last chance. I invited you into my life, my body and my house, and you hurt me worse than anyone ever did before.”

“C’mon, love. Don’t say that,” I beg, and run a hand through my hair. Her face goes red and a vein pulses on her forehead, but I don’t let that stop me. I finally have words to say, and I’ll say them. “I know that what I did to Lea was awful. I know that it’s hard to deal with my past. I’ve done some pretty fucked up shit and I have no idea how to even try to fix it. I told you that Sunday on the beach that I suck at apologizing, but I’ll do whatever you need me to do to make things better.

“We can go to Seattle together, and I can apologize to Lea and everyone else I hurt. I can go to the cops and confess to everything. I can go to the press. I can sell all of the shit I have back home and start a charity . . . I don’t know. I’ll even chop my own leg off if you think I should. Whatever you need, I’ll do it. I’ll make things right. I’ll make them right for us.”

I’m pretty much breathless by the time I stop speaking. I’m also really hopeful that my words, and the honest intent behind them, will make Lexie see that I’m committed to redeeming my past. I’m hopeful that it’ll be enough to make her see that I’m different now.

For a really long time she just stares at me from under lowered brows. Then she taps her index finger on the side of her leg.
Lexie’s thinking.
My lips pull in a sad smile as I bring my hand up to tuck a lock of my hair behind my ear. The moment I do, her finger stops moving and she shakes her head.

“Do you think this is about your past, and how you’ve handled it?”

I tilt my head, confused, but nod nonetheless. Her hands come up to cover her face. Pale fingers with green nail polish press against her eyes for a moment. When her arms fall back to her sides, tears flood and fall down her cheeks. They make me hate myself.

“I don’t care what you did before you met me.” Her voice is a calm monotone. “Yes, I think you were despicable and selfish. And yes, I feel bad for Lea. Not only because of her leg, but also because those reports say you were friends and lovers for years. I feel bad because in those pictures she looked at you the way I do—like you’re gravity, and there’s no choice but to fall for you. I feel bad, because she was alone when she needed you the most. But that can’t hurt me because it’s your problem, not mine. It’s a problem I would gladly have helped you deal with, if only you had included me, as partners should. But you didn’t. And that’s what hurts me.

“All I wanted was you. I knew you were an asshole for most of your life, and I didn’t judge you. I have a shitty past too, so I’d never judge anyone for his or her mistakes, let alone you. But you didn’t trust me—you didn’t love me enough to open up and let me make up my own mind about you. Instead, you gave me bits and pieces of you to love. You played and manipulated me into loving someone I don’t even know.”

I shake my head, because she does know me. She knows me better than anyone else. I take a step in her direction, and to my surprise, she doesn’t step away from me this time. Instead, she brings her hand to cup my cheek. As always, her touch feels amazing, and I lean my face into her palm.

“And the worst part of it is that I would have loved you, Mathew. If you had shown me who you really were, if you had stripped down your defenses, if you had taken down the lies and the doubt—if you had just given me a choice, I would still have loved you.”

I bring one hand up to cover hers. A knot forms in my throat as a couple of tears spill from my eyes and fall to her hand. Her free hand comes up to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear before drifting down to the back of my head. She holds me tight, curling her fingers in my hair as she inches her face toward mine.

The softest and most perfect lips I’ve ever kissed cover my own. I bring my free hand to her waist and hold her tight. My fingers dig into the soft fabric of her pajamas as our lips and tongues dance their familiar tune of lust and a deeper love than I could have ever dreamt about.

A part of me wants to rip our clothes off and show her that she’s mine, that she’ll forever be mine. But another part, the one that wins, wants to kiss her slowly and enjoy the smell of honey and vanilla, the minty taste of her mouth, her moans, and every other little detail I love about her. And I do.

I revel in all those little things, just as someone looking through the lens of a telescope would marvel at the magnificence of a supernova. I see the explosion happen. I see the beautiful haze of colorful dust that tears the star apart and scatters its broken core. It’s stunning and perfect and can make you forget that you’re witnessing death. But then a salty droplet touches my lips and I’m no longer the watcher. I’m back to being the star, and pain stronger than any I’ve ever felt rips through me as I shatter into a cloud of nothing.

Her lips pull away and my fingers clutch her closer, refusing to let go. “I love you, Lexie.” The words pass directly from my lips to hers.

“I love you, too. So much,” she whispers and sighs. “But we’re done.”

The last time I cried was when my mom died. The tears I cried then don’t compare to the ones I cry now. Silent big fat droplets fall from my eyes for countless minutes, as I weakly beg “no,” over and over again.

I feel her crying against me. Her body trembles with suppressed sighs, but still, she lets go of my hair and tries to pull her hand from under mine. I won’t let it go, though. I won’t let her go. I curl my fingers over the hand on my cheek, and bring our joined hands to my chest. I press it over my heart and hope that she can feel it breaking.

Tears fall from her eyes, and I kiss them away as I plead against her skin. “Please. I love you. We’ll sit on our bed, and we’ll stay up all night talking. I’ll tell you everything. No secrets. I’ll be completely honest. Just please, please, please don’t leave me. Please. I love you. Please.”

I lose track of how many times I repeat those words. The more I speak, the harder she cries and the more I ache, the more I die. I don’t care, though. I’d die a million deaths to keep her. So I continue to beg for a long time. I continue until she stops crying.

I pull back from her face and look at her. My eyes are filled with tears and hope that she’ll give me another chance. However, all I see is a hardened expression I never imagined could exist on Lexie’s face.

All air is pulled out of my lungs, making my muscles weak. She takes advantage of that moment to push against my chest, and free herself from my grasp. My arms fall down to my sides as she takes a step backwards.

I look into her eyes, but she doesn’t look into mine. Her eyes stay firmly focused on the wall behind my head as she says, “I’m going to take a shower. You need to get your things and leave.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not going.”

She exhales. “Mathew.”

“No! I’m not leaving. This is my home.”

Her eyes finally focus on mine. The tears and sadness that, up until a few moments ago, poured out of her, give room to anger. Her fists shake as she takes a few steps in my direction.

“This is
my
home,” she yells. “And I don’t want you here anymore. You are hurting me, so we can either end this nicely, or I can call the cops and get you forcefully removed. I really don’t want to give Kyle the satisfaction, so I hope you choose option number one.”

Not a second after those awful words pass her lips, she stomps toward the bathroom. Hurt and desperate, I blurt out the first thing that pops into my mind. “This is what he wants, Lex. He wants to tear us apart. I’m begging you not to let him do it.”

She stops walking but doesn’t turn to look at me. “I don’t have to. You did that all by yourself, Mathew. You ruined us when you kept me away.” She sighs, and the tired, broken sound pulls all air from my lungs because I know what she’ll say next. “Goodbye, Matt.”

Broken and alone, I stare at nothing. I feel nothing, and I wonder if that’s what being dead feels like. You suffer to die, but then it’s just numb, this nothingness that gives you the most awful peace.

I hear the shower turning on and I stand there like a statue. I’m both sure that I should do something, and completely unsure of what that something is, so I do what she told me to. I gather my things and I walk out of the only home I’ve ever had.

I sit inside Rosie for what feels like hours, during which I see Lexie’s shape pace on the other side of window. I see the lights go on and off. I punch the steering wheel, and curse at my own weakness and stupidity. And then, decided that staying here is stupid, I get out of the truck and run back to the house.

Lexie’s cries reach me on the outside of the front door. The sound is awful, haunting and broken. It makes me wish I was as dead as I feel, because living with the knowledge that I did this to her is torture. My head falls to the wood in front of me, and my fingers clasp around the doorknob.

A silent war rages inside my mind between following her request, and opening this door and showing that I’ll fight for her. Before there’s a winner, I hear a deep sob and mumbled words.

I close my eyes and focus on her voice in an attempt to understand her. When I do, a cold chill runs down my spine because, although her words are jumbled and nonsensical, they are all curses directed at the universe for making her love me. Unable to leave or cry or walk inside my home, I stay there, torturing myself with her curses until I can’t hear them anymore.

In that God-awful time, I think about all the times I chose myself over someone else. I think about all the times I’ve been selfish and forced my will on people, Lexie included. And I finally know that it’s time to stop. Despite the dread springing from every cell in my body, I do the only thing I can do to make things better.

I leave.