Nick knocked on my cabin door the
next morning. I didn’t blame him; I had stayed cocooned in my blankets,
avoiding breakfast and everyone else. Though I looked a mess in my old
sweatpants and university tee, I found I didn’t care. Last night was wrong on
so many levels. Drei shouldn’t have found out that way, Nick shouldn’t have had
to face him alone, and I should have seen it coming.
“You missed breakfast,” Nick said gingerly,
smiling as he offered me an apple.
“I wasn’t hungry,” I replied softly,
leaning against the door jam, turning the apple over in my fingers.
“Are you okay?” His brow furrowed a
little and his green eyes scanned mine, searching for clues.
Sighing, I said what I knew I had to
say: “I need time to myself.”
His gaze downcast, he asked, “Is this
about last night?”
“This is about me.” I realized how
selfish I sounded and winced internally. “I’m taking the week to myself.” Before
he protested, I pushed off from the door frame and turned away, adding, “You
promised if I went with you, you’d babysit a week without me.”
“But—”
“I need to do this, Nick,” I
asserted, struggling not to fall into his arms, kiss, or even face him. I knew
the minute I faced those jade gems I would be lost in the moment again, and I
couldn’t be careless anymore. People always seemed to be hurt when I didn’t
think through my choices. “If you care about me at all, you’ll let me.”
After he left in his cloud of doubt and confusion, I went to my room and settled into the rocking chair, a knee pulled to my chest. Tears rolled down
my cheeks and my throat constricted. Why did it always seem to require pain and destruction before I considered the impact of my actions?
No comments:
Post a Comment