This is wrong. This can’t go on.
“I’ll give you what you want.” I face him with a slight smile.
“What I want?”
“I’ll talk to Edric and end it.”
“End it,” he repeats, as if he’s getting a feel for the words.
“Yes. Isn’t that what you always wanted? For the engagement to end?”
“Fuck that, Teal.”
“Well, isn’t it? You threatened me about it before.”
“The keyword being before. Have I threatened you with it in recent memory?”
“In that case, I’m the one who wants to end it.” After all, the reason I wanted this is because of Dad, and he signed a binding contract with Edric a few days ago.
I’ve been on the verge of doing it myself since then, but I always kept coming back to Ronan for more.
One more time, I told myself. Just one more night in his arms.
I should’ve known better. That’s how all addicts act.
“You want to what?” he snaps.
“It was a phase anyway.” I nearly slap my mouth after I say the word phase.
It’s not a phase. Nothing is a phase.
I loathe that word.
“It’s not a fucking phase and you know it.” His face tightens. “You just felt it, and now you’re running away from it.”
“Just like you’re running away from all your problems with all the partying and drinking and drugs?” I lash out. That’s what I do when attacked, I attack back, and I’m venomous, like a fucking deadly snake who can never stop. “What did you think all the parties would do, huh? That maybe at the end of the night, you’d be a better person, you’d actually look at yourself in the mirror and have a genuine smile? Those people will never be you. They’ll never feel what you feel or speak the language you want to speak. They don’t care, Ronan. No one does, so how about you stop taking refuge in useless people? Or better yet, how about you stop trying to make me one of those people? I’m not and I never will be.”
My breaths are harsh after my outburst.
In my attempt to come out from under the microscope, I went too far, and now I have no way to stop it.
I have no way to take it back.
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear with a trembling hand then I let it drop to my lap.
He’s not talking. Why isn’t he talking?
If he lashes out at me. If he tells me I hide from people for the same reasons, I’ll take it. I’ll swallow the knife with its blood.
I’ll do anything as long as he says something.
I steal a peek through my lashes. Ronan is watching me closely, but his expression is blank, non-existent even.
“Do you know why I take refuge in people?” he asks quietly.
I shake my head. I don’t.
“I’m not interested.” If I know his pain, it’ll gut me to the point of no return.