“Damn it, I’m not bailing. Will you just—” Sloane tried to reach out to him, but Dex pushed him away.
“You’re fucking leaving! If that’s not bailing, then what the hell is it?”
“I killed my mother!” Sloane snapped. “Your parents’ murder was fucked-up, but it was carried out by criminals. My father killed himself because of me, because of what I became, because of what I did. I killed my mother, Dex. Do you have any idea the kind of guilt I carry, knowing she died by my claws? It’s a stain on my soul. One I’ll carry for the rest of my life. If your mother had said something, my parents might still be alive.”
“I’m sorry about your mom. You know I am. I understand what you’re saying. What I don’t understand is what it has to do with us. Why you’re leaving me because of something I had no control over, something none of us had any control over.”
“Except for your mom.” Sloane threw some clothes into his bag, along with his toiletry bag from the bathroom.
“We don’t know that. We’re going on the words of a fucking maniac! If she did have a choice, don’t you think she would have done something?”
“I’m just asking for some time.”
Dex threw his hands up. “And then what, Sloane? Face me and tell me the next time you look at me you won’t keep wondering ‘what-if?”
Sloane couldn’t look at him. If he did, he might not have the courage to leave, and he had to. For both their sakes. For their future. “That won’t happen.”
“Really? Because I’m losing count of your broken promises.”
That stung. “Now hold on a second—”
“No. I’m done.” The blazing anger and heartache in Dex’s blue eyes hurt, but the damage had been done. Dex gave a sniff and shook his head. “I’m not going to ask you to stay. I won’t beg you to be with me. Go do whatever it is you gotta do, but one of these days, the pieces you leave behind will be so broken I won’t be able to put them back together, and when that happens, I can’t promise you I’ll be here when you get back.”
Sloane swallowed hard. If that happened, Sloane would have no one to blame but himself. There’d be nothing left of him. He deserved whatever hell he found himself in. Dex was right about everything, but it didn’t change how torn up inside Sloane was.
Despite his anger and heartache, Sloane worried about Dex. “Please, be safe out there.”
“I can take care of myself. I was doing it way before you came along.”
Sloane flinched at Dex’s icy tone. “But it’s different now. You know that.”
“Yeah, well, not much I can do about it, huh? My mate’s fucking off and leaving me.”
“That’s not fair,” Sloane growled.
“You’re walking away, leaving me with your mark burning me down to my bones, and then you tell me to be safe out there? Just go.”
“Don’t be like that.”
Dex’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you just say don’t be like that?”
Sloane held his hands up. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not fucking sorry. Don’t be like that? You have no fucking idea what you do to me when you walk out that door! No fucking clue.”
“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” Jesus, he was just digging himself into a deeper hole.
Dex sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hand. “Just go before one of us says something we’ll regret.”
Sloane did as asked. He snatched his bag off the bed and hurried downstairs, slamming the door on the way out. His Impala was parked across the street, giving him a perfect view of the house and Dex standing upstairs at the bedroom window, because Sloane wasn’t feeling shitty enough. He popped the trunk, threw his bag in, then slammed it shut before he got in his car and burned rubber driving away. Was what he was asking so unreasonable? It was a lot to take in. Was he just supposed to accept it and move on? He turned on the radio, forgetting it was tuned into that fucking Retro Radio. He turned it off, spewing every curse word he knew. At the red light, he sat there trying to calm down.
Dex had never been that pissed at him.
He was always so understanding. Had Sloane taken that for granted? Had he expected Dex to smile and agree? To swallow down his own pain and hurt, all for Sloane? Is that what he wanted?
“Fuck! Motherfucking son of a bitch!” Sloane slammed his hand against the steering wheel several times before a car horn bellowed at him to move his ass. He hit the accelerator, his tires screeching in protest as he took off. His heart was killing him, and his vision was blurred. What the fuck had he just done?
Ten minutes later, he stood outside Ash’s apartment door feeling like a complete and utter disaster. He should have called Ash and explained what was going on rather than just show up, but his drive had only resulted in him growing more frustrated. Yet whatever his thoughts told him, his heart berated him, telling him he’d fucked up royally. He’d done what he’d promised Dex he wouldn’t do. Break his heart. Again. They were supposed to be able to get through these things together, but how could they? Sloane was at a loss.