Tell Me To Stay

“Bullshit.” The word comes out of me easily. “If I didn’t care, this right here wouldn’t hurt so fucking much.”

“I told you if you wanted me to stay, to just tell me so.”

“I don’t remember it that way,” I tell her, standing up from my desk and walking toward her. The motion closes the space between us and she stands up to face me, her ass hitting the chair now behind her, making it creak against the wooden floors as it does.

When we fight, it’s fire against fire. And I can see the sparks in her eyes. The venom in her voice is nothing compared to the lust. I know she still wants me. I can hear it and see it when she fights. She wouldn’t be hurting if she didn’t love me.

Please, just love me.

“The way I remember it is you telling me that you were worth more.” It’s hard to push out those words, because she was. She was worth everything; I just failed to prove it to her. Over and over again I failed. In a world where I can buy anything, I have nothing without her. None of it means anything without her. How can she not know that? “And then the next thing I heard, you’d flown across the country with Brett’s sister because your parents died. That’s more than a little something that may have helped me understand what you needed.”

Although her face crumples, she keeps her composure steady in her voice.

“I texted you the next morning before I left. I said if you wanted me to stay, then tell me that.”

Bullshit is on the tip of my tongue again, but there’s a look in Soph’s eyes I don’t see often. Pure pain and agony. There are times to push, and times to fight. That morning she left, I didn’t hear a single word from her. I know that. It’s a fucking fact. She never messaged me.

“If I’d seen that message, I would have told your ass to stay where you were.” I tell her the raw truth in a way I hope she doesn’t fight.

“You saw it, Madox. I know you saw it and you didn’t answer me, because you didn’t care if I left. You assumed I’d come back. You may regret it now, but you can’t change the past.” Her voice is firm, just like her resolve to leave me again. I already know that’s what she’s doing, and I don’t know how I can hold on to her. I can never hold on to her.

“There was no fucking text message. You left because that’s what you do.” Before the words even leave my mouth, I already regret them. They’re harsh and brutal, and they spill from me out of hurt and the desire to hurt her back. “You leave people. That’s what your mother taught you to do.”

Regret. It’s instant regret.

“I don’t mean to hurt you.” I barely get the words out and then shove the next sentence out as fast as I can, “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want you to run away anymore.”

The mere inches separating us are both hot and cold. And as I reach out for her, she steps back.

Don’t leave me.

“You’re right,” she says in a strained voice as she nods.

Don’t leave me.

“I do always run. And that’s why this has to stop.”

Don’t leave me.

“You told me to tell you to stay, so stay,” my voice begs her. I have to grip the chair from grabbing on to her, from physically keeping her from leaving.

“I asked for time.” Her eyes shine with unshed tears as she tells me, “I didn’t want to fight, Madox.”

I bite my tongue, holding in the bitter comment that I’ve given her three years. I would rather fight than watch her walk away again.

“Don’t leave me,” I tell her just barely above a whisper and that’s when she cries, “I’m sorry, Madox. I need to be okay on my own.”

I want to tell her that she is. That I’m the one who’s not okay. But I can’t. I can’t do anything but stand there gripping the chair as she cries harder when I say nothing. And then she leaves me. I watch her leave this time, and I hate myself.

I hate the person I am. I hate that I can’t show her I’m the one who’s not okay.

I’m the one who needs her to stay.

Chapter 14

Sophie

Three years ago

Is it supposed to feel like this? This empty gnawing sensation inside that eats you alive? It was never like this before. I would leave and feel his absence but somewhere I knew he was still waiting for me. I keep staring at my phone waiting for him to text me, but he doesn’t. The last text is the one I sent him.