Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
And not just forged by the way he looked at me, uplifted my confidence, believed in me, made me feel worthy.
But also from the beginning of us, when he was mean, cruel, dismissive. He’d helped me find my backbone. He’d shown me my worth in some warped way. He’d also shown me his cards. When Beau got scared of his feelings—or more specifically, if he was under the mistaken impression that he was doing the right thing—he pushed me away.
I wasn’t going to let him. I couldn’t.
“I’m trying.” He was tortured. In pain. It was visceral, how much this was hurting him. And I didn’t care.
“No, you’re not,” I hissed. “You’re running. You’re being a coward. You promised. You promised I was safe with you. You made me safe with you, and now, what? You’re ending this because … why?”
I was hammering him with words, questions filled with an aggression I hadn’t known I was capable of. But I was terrified. Hurt beyond measure. And I was mad.
Furious.
Beau didn’t meet my fury; he looked rightly defeated, chastised.
“Because I will not be another man who takes advantage of you, Hannah.” He didn’t meet my gaze, looking somewhere over my head while speaking softly yet firmly.
“You dismiss my agency and insult my intelligence by insinuating that I can’t tell whether or not you’re taking advantage of me.” I clutched his shirt tighter.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re right. I’m insulting you by taking your power away here, and I fucking hate myself for it, Hannah. But I’m only the second man you’ve been with in your entire life. And you only got divorced from the older man who took you out of high school, who you thought was saving you but hurt you instead.”
My brother.
My fucking brother.
He’d spilled everything, apparently. Though I couldn’t lay the blame at his feet entirely. Maybe if I’d found a way to tell Beau in my own words, he wouldn’t have twisted the truth into some kind of warped reason to give up on me.
“Jack chose now to be the protective brother, and you chose now to be the man who gives a fuck what other people think?” I shot at him. I let go of his jacket, stepping back. I couldn’t be close with him anymore, even if I wanted to seek safety in his chest. It wasn’t safe anymore. He wasn’t safe anymore. “One man discussing my past and another deciding my future?” I shook my head, disgusted.
My ruined, bleeding heart pounded in my chest as I tried to reconcile my reality. Less than ten minutes ago, I was lying in Clara’s bed, warm and content.
A week ago, Beau and I had been in bed, joking about Clara’s high school prom and how I’d have to remove any access to shotguns.
“I love you,” I said in barely a whisper.
The words hit Beau like missiles. His whole body flinched, recoiling in pain.
I was glad about that. Pleased to witness the pain I was causing Beau, even if it only served to spread more agony through the chambers of my heart.
Keeping eye contact with him as I said it was the hardest thing I’d done. But I’d done it.
“I was waiting.” I swallowed blades. “To tell you that. Even though I’ve loved you for a long time. Longer than I should’ve. Since the start.” I peered down at my hands, willing them to stop trembling. “I was scared to say it out loud because I thought it might be some omen. That me accepting a love that made me feel safe, happy, whole would actually break me.” I laughed mirthlessly, the sound empty and ugly. “I was gathering the courage to say it, even if you already knew. It was a big deal. A symbol of our life together. Now it can be a goodbye, and if it’s not too crass to say, a fuck you.”
I said the words slowly, delicately, because I didn’t have the strength to speak louder. To be crueler.
The words were plenty cruel, though, if the wretched expression on Beau’s face was anything to go by.
“Hannah.” He reached for my cheek, voice completely broken.
I held my hand up, and he stopped, his own hand falling to his side. I couldn’t know what he was going to do or say. Was he going to try to apologize? Make up? Say he was wrong?
Oh, how I ached to let him. Already I was desperate to forgive him even when the wounds he’d inflicted were still gushing blood.
But I held firm. Beau Shaw would be the first and last man to cut me that deep.
“You want to be done, don’t be a coward and say it’s for my own good.” Suddenly, my limbs felt heavy, I was scooped out. Exhausted. All of my energy had gone toward fighting for us. A losing battle. “It’s because you’re afraid.” I shook my head. Disappointed. Disgusted. Heartbroken.