That I felt something I shouldn’t feel.
That I’d felt it for years, and this was my confession after reading all of hers.
My hips rocked against hers, seeking an answer, desperate to know it wasn’t too late as I burrowed my nose into her hair, inhaling her, kissing her, wanting to kiss her lips but unable to let go long enough to pull her face to mine.
I was close to breaking.
Emotionally, physically, sexually.
My mind was full of heat and sin, a clawing hunger that had nothing to do with sex but everything to do with finally showing her how I felt about her—how tortured I was because of it.
Holding her again, hugging her after years of miscommunication, bullshit, and dancing a dance we didn’t understand, I felt as if I’d returned home, and the one person who was home no longer knew me or invited me in.
I was cast out into the cold, and my fingers dug harder into her skin as I shook my head against her rigidness, the coldness, the unbreakable ice she bristled with.
Pressure tingled in my spine, goosebumps prickled my skin, and a heaviness that could only be described as regret filled my eyes.
Tears distorted my vision for all the waste, all the mess we’d put each other through by not talking to one another. Not being brave enough to admit there was something more.
There had always been something more.
There had always been fate puppeteering our lives as if we were its own personal entertainment where survival fell away in favour of sex and two people who loved each other more than life itself were forced to break apart to stay bound by society’s rules.
“Della.” I forced myself to unwrap my arms and step back. My body howled at the distance, but I couldn’t touch her when she didn’t want to be touched.
“Please, Della…” I didn’t know what I asked for, but the brittle unhappiness on her face snapped into rage-filled indignation. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” She laughed once, shattering the shocked silence between us, deleting her tears, and choosing rage over disbelief. Instead of stepping into my arms like I needed her to, instead of kissing me as I was begging her to, she hefted the heavy pages of her manuscript and threw them at my face with all her might.
They hit me square in the jaw, shredding my chin with paper cuts, sending me reeling backward as A4 snow fluttered to the floor.
“What the—” I rubbed the impact zone, wincing in pain.
“How dare you!” she seethed. “How dare you walk back in here and think you have any right to read what is mine? How dare you touch me after years of avoiding my hugs? How dare you, Ren! How fucking dare you!”
Her fury roared in my ears, and I backed up as she hit my chest with fist after tiny fist. Tears streaked down her face, mixing with errant droplets from her shower. Her bare toes dug into the carpet, pushing her forward, giving her power to defeat me.
“Get out!” Her cheeks turned red with hatred. “Get out. Get out!”
“Della! Wait—” I tried to grab her wrists as she pummelled me, but I didn’t succeed. “Let me explain.” Every time I touched her, my fingers seared with need. Having her so close made my body crave and harden and do things I’d always forbidden it to do around her.
It was a traitor, but then again, so was my goddamn heart.
She continued hitting me, her hair flying in damp curls. “There’s nothing to explain. You left! You left me alone. You left me, Ren! I’ve cried myself to sleep, desperate to earn just one more hug from you, and now you’re somehow here and I want nothing to do with them! You have no right to hug me. No right to read something that was never yours to read. How could you? That wasn’t for you! That wasn’t for anyone. It’s not yours. It was never yours.”
“Stop.” Finally, I managed to grab her furious fists, gulping against the heaven of touching her. “What was never mine?”
Her eyes flashed, turquoise fire and navy brimstone. “All of it. None of it. It doesn’t matter. Just…get out! Go back to wherever you ran to. I don’t need you anymore. I can’t need you anymore. This is too hard as it is.” Her lips twisted into a grimace. “You’re making this impossible for m-me—” Her voice broke as a sob stole her breath.
“Della. Fuck.” Tugging her closer, I lost the ability to talk.
Words evaded me. Apologies and explanations and questions.
Only my heart functioned, and that was full of newness.
“You might not need me anymore, but I need you more than ever,” I whispered, holding tight as she struggled. “I’ve been so blind. So fucking blind.”
She stilled, her sudden frozenness unnerving. “What did you say?”