“Angel, don’t.” The plea in his eyes sliced through my center, the hurt in his voice, unmasked. He finally took a step forward. “Don’t do this to me again. Please. If you ever loved me, just let me be. Every time you come around with your false fucking hopes, you smash something else inside of me. Are you going to keep swinging until there’s nothing left?”
I pushed a palm into my chest. “That’s not what I ever wanted to do. Please, you have to believe me. All I've ever wanted to do was protect you. To keep you away from all of my hurt.”
Blake scoffed, seeming to sarcastically laugh at some fleeting thought. Then he turned his determined eyes to me and took another step forward. “What do you want?”
“I want this to be all better. I want you to be okay. For the spark that made you you to be back.” I skirted around the point as much as possible.
With another step, Blake was nearly nose to nose with me, and the feeling of it flooded my bloodstream in a tidal wave. The smell of his soap and his cologne. My eyes drifted to the swell of his bottom lip and my mouth watered, remembering the taste of it. I sucked in a breath as the sensations crashed into me all at once, making it hard to breathe.
“What do you want? Say what you want!” he yelled in my face with such force, the energy in his breath swooped over my skin, taking with it the last of my resolve and breaking what little resistance I had left.
“I want you!” Tension swelled, boiling over as it poured from my lips.
Blake retracted a little, his eyes dancing around from mine to my lips to my stance, as though he were trying to figure out if there was sincerity in my words.
In a tinier voice, I repeated, “I. Want. You.”
In a split second, I watched Blake’s walls shatter and explode. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me into him as our lips came crashing into one another. Feet suspended from the ground, I cupped his face in my hands and attacked his mouth, dragging as much of him into my system as I could. Panting and pawing, my back suddenly slammed against the tree, his hand coming up to tangle in my hair.
My heart swelled, coming back to life with each of his breaths that I dragged into my lungs. This was my home. My life.
All of my holes began to fill in, my cracks began to mortar. How I’d gone on for so long without him was a mystery to me. At this moment, I’d never felt so alive, so free and so fulfilled.
Blake broke the kiss, his lips swollen and panting. “I can’t do this.” He released me, setting me on shaky feet as he backed away. Something punched me in the heart and my eyebrows knitted together. The look of mortification on his face was the last thing I had expected to see as he slowly backed away from me.
No.
“Blake?”
“I can’t do this, Eva. Not again. It hurts too damn much every time I have to let you go, and I don’t trust that you’ll stay. Not yet.”
A few more steps backward.
No. No. No.
“What are you saying?” I squeaked. “Why did you . . . why did you insist on knowing what I wanted? Why did you kiss me like it was what you wanted, too?” I touched three fingers to my lips, which still tingled with the burn of his passion.
Blake shrugged, a twitch of cockiness at the corner of his lip. “I told you once before, I’ll take what I can get.” He was acting aloof, but I knew him too well. The slice between his eyebrows betrayed his nonchalant shrug.
I forged ahead, determined to make him see how serious I was this time. “But, you can have me! I don’t want to be apart anymore. It’s torture.”
He shook his head, disbelieving as his gaze withdrew. “Until the next time.” The more disconnected he became, the more my heart whipped with panic in tandem.
“There won’t be a next time,” I promised. “You have to trust me. I won’t hurt you.”
“I've been burned by believing you before, Angel. I just . . . I just need time.” An exhausted sigh floated between his lips as his posture wilted. “I thought I could do it. Thought I could wait and bear whatever you dished out, believe there could be an us, but it’s just too much. I’m not strong enough to survive another round in the ring with you.” His breathing slowed, and he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
“This isn’t a battle!” my voice squeaked.
He stilled, a look of remorse washing over his face. “You’re right.” His eyes met mine—washed in solace, bathed in regret. “I surrender.” Then they slid closed for a brief soul-crushing second.
I gasped, my legs barely holding me upright as I clutched around my middle with one arm and sobbed into my palm with the other.
No.
Then he handed me my heart, shoved his hands in his pockets, and turned, leaving me here feeling broken open and bleeding.
EVA
PAIN.
Broken.
Confused.
Alone.
Guilty.
There wasn’t a word for what I felt.
What just happened?
So many emotions swirled through the pit of my stomach, taking turns punching me in the gut. I had known Blake was hurting, but I hadn’t understood how much until that point. So much had changed since our moment at Bertha. An unspoken wall of distrust stood immovable between us.
I hung my head. I’d never intended to become the enemy. If time was what he wanted, time was what I’d give him. It was the least I could do, but I wouldn’t let up. He was going to know that I wasn’t going anywhere. If I had to deliver my heart on a silver platter, I’d hand it over to him. As much as this hurt, I wouldn’t let it break me.
That fact was an eye-opener.
It proved how much stronger I was now. I was a survivor. But I was also hurting. And so was he. Together we could be each other’s salve. I just didn’t know how to convince him of that. Funny how the tables had turned. Blake had spent months trying to persuade me of the same thing last semester.
I drifted through the streets on my journey home, feeling lost and uncertain. Without stopping, I kept walking to the back of my apartment in the same dream-state, depositing my bag and jean jacket as I went.
Am I supposed to prove my love or let my love be?
Something called to me, pulling me forward, but I was unsure what it was as I dropped to my bed and put my head in my hands. My hair fell around my shoulders in a blanket while my mind and my subconscious warred. The most ironic part of all of this was that I was finally becoming the woman Blake deserved. I was put together better than I had ever been, which was what I had been holding out for, and now that it was here, he wouldn’t have me. My subconscious scoffed at me.
I pushed play on the dock beside my bed, hoping for a sign. Sliding my back down the side of the mattress, I landed on my behind with a thump as Christina Perri’s, Distance began. Her words were bittersweet as she spoke of a love not returned. Unheard I love you’s as she kept her distance. But the distance was kept to protect him.
How did we get here? After all that we had. Because in my quest to get better, I lost sight of what we had. Of our love and our connection that was stronger than anything. Of the Blake and Angel.
Of the Blake and Angel.
I gripped my shirt in a clump over my chest, the weight of it feeling like a heavy blanket as she sang of her trouble breathing. The realization that I may have pushed him away for the last time was too much to bear. I pictured Blake beside me, knowing I’d already given him all of my broken heartbeats, wondering why I waited so long in the first place.
Recalling a day from months ago, when I’d stood in this room a very broken girl, I lowered my head to peer under my bed. There lay the journal Blake had given me, which I’d tossed aside in my desperation to rid myself of any reminders of him.
Sprawled on my belly, I stretched my arm until I could reach the place where it had been discarded. Feeling the supple leather in my hand again brought with it a wave of emotion as I remembered the day he had given it to me, and the love that had radiated from his eyes. That day I wa
s sure we would last forever. I never would have thought that I was days away from losing him.
A tear splattered onto the leather as I swiped my forearm along my cheek and peeled the book open, each memory coming at me like a slap in the face. All of the pictures he had put there, the notes he’d left me on the trails he’d set out for our first date, the page which held my necklace. I fingered my bare neckline and pulled the book to my chest, crumbling at the reminder that I’d broken that gift and tossed it aside, along with him.
How did I let this happen?
My heart broke around that book. The book that was intended to be the happy one. The one meant to be kept separate from the original, which held only heartache. I squeezed it to me, allowing it to absorb some of the pain bleeding from me.
Then, frantic, I pulled it away, not wanting it to be tainted by any of my negative energy. I left the room in as much of a dream-state as I’d entered it, my eyes a bit more sore on the way out. I placed the journal on the floor where I could see it, then secured my hair in a ponytail, and jabbed my finger into the play button. My workout playlist came on with a blast through the speakers surrounding my gym nook, and I jumped with a start. Grabbing my chest, I dialed it back a drop. The blood pumping in my veins was the wakeup call I needed to snap me back to reality.
Standing, I stared at myself in the mirror. My shoulders appeared squarer lately, though at the moment they were drooping around the edges. My legs were tighter, defined around my calves and thighs. Arms that used to be slightly boney now wore a bump around the bicep and lines defining muscles twining to my wrists. Physically I was strong, tight, unbreakable.
I stared into the green depths of my eyes as though I could show myself inside. Though heartbroken, a confidence showed through my irises that had once been so hollow, so guarded. That was the biggest difference. There was a sense of freedom that showed there. Along the way, I’d begun to let go of the past, and the weight of it was missing there, the gates that never invited anyone in were almost gone.
I ground my fist into my chest, the callouses on my palms making themselves known on my fingertips. I was still missing one more piece. A solid body, a strong mind . . .
And a broken heart.
The other two could never operate at full capacity without the latter.
I scooped up my free weights and curled up, repeating countless repetitions as I mulled over all of these thoughts. Over and over again, I had begged Blake for more time, and each time he’d given it to me. How could I not give him the same courtesy?
Because you’re scared the time has passed and he won’t be back.
I threw the dumbbells down and grabbed my gloves, needing to pound on something. The speed bag would bear the brunt of the torture I felt in my heart. My mind kept reeling through the barra-ta-ta, barra-ta-ta, of the bag as it jolted from each whack of my fist. My playlist switched to Fight Song, by Rachel Platten, the slow piano not really matching the strength in my strides. I punched one final blow with the side of my fist before discarding the gloves and dropping to the mat.
Crunch after crunch, my abs burned each time I would rise up and punch the air.
One—Two.
My fight song.
I was a fighter now.
Crunch. One—Two—Three—Four.
Can you hear my voice . . .
My lip curled over my teeth, sweat dropping through them as I pushed harder.
One—Two.
Take back my life . . .
I popped to my feet and threw punches toward the mirror, watching my form as I danced around with myself, shadow boxing.
She sang about not caring if nobody else believed, and it hit me how done I was. I was done caring, too. The truth was the truth, and I needed to be rid of it to feel clean again.
I returned to the floor to do burpees, while the song picked up the pace. Each drop brought me eye-level with Blake’s journal. So close my nose was practically touching it.
My fight song.
Hop up. Down.
Take back my life.
Journal.
Forget not . . . you’re a strong and incredible person.
Another of his forget me nots. I was strong now.
I was a fighter, the burn in my veins reminded me. So why not fight for the thing that mattered most—the war of my heart. A sweat-soaked grin split my face as I lowered to the floor on my last rep. With my weight on my wrists, I leaned forward on my toes and placed a kiss on the top of the journal before bouncing back to my feet.
Game on.
BLAKE
I AWOKE WITH a start.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
"What the . . .” My gaze fell to the clock on my bedside table. Apparently, I'd slept in because it was already ten a.m., but it was still too early for anyone to be visiting.
I dragged myself from the bed and pushed my palms into my eyes, shuffling down the hall. When I reached the door, the burn of my morning wood stopped me. I looked down to the pajama bottoms hanging off my waist as the obvious arrow beneath it pointed toward the door. "Just a second." I palmed it, trying to get it to tame itself before I scared whoever was on the other side. Figuring half-mast would have to do, given the fact I was commando under those pants, I peeled back the door, hoping whoever it was would keep their sights on the upper portion of my body.
Warm, chocolate eyes peeking out of worn, tanned skin greeted me. They were familiar. I tried to place them as the smell of fresh coffee and bacon entered my system. Still half asleep, I racked my brain, scratching the back of my bed-head, knowing I was missing something.
"Señor." The crinkle in his eyes gave him away, instantly shriveling my semi. How could I forget that face? He’d been so excited to deliver food to Angel the morning of our date. He had spoken broken English, but love was a universal language, and I could tell he was a romantic.
Nausea encroached as I stared at that brown paper bag. For the past couple of days, I had been trying to bring myself to terms that things were done between Angel and me, and I knew whatever was inside that bag was about to fuck that all to shit.
EVA
“WHAT DID YOU do?” Jace slid his coffee cup to the center of the table and leaned forward on his forearms.
“Nothing.” I shrugged nonchalantly, taking a sip of my drink, but I was sure the smirk I couldn’t contain was giving me away.
“Eva . . .” Jace’s voice raised slightly as he dragged out the end of my name, clearly knowing I was lying my ass off. “You forget I know that pretty little head just as well as my own. Whatever it is, it’s juicy, too. I can taste it.” He smacked his lips together and crossed one leg over the other, leaning forward to rest his chin in his palm. “Spill it or I’ll—”
“Hey, guys,” Jessie’s sweet voice cut over Jace’s. She seemed oblivious that we were in mid-convo as her mega-watt smile greeted us. She slid into the chair beside Jace, whose face pinched together as though he smelled something rancid.
“Oh, no, honey. What is all that?” He circled his fingers around Jessie’s head.
“All what?” She palmed the side of her hair, self-conscious.
“Being it’s still early, I’m going to pray for your sake that it’s I-was-fucked-all-night-hair.” He paused, leaning back to allow his gaze to rove over her. “And well.” He winked. “But that’s still no excuse for leaving the house like that. And sharing a table with me, no less. Get your ass over here and let me work some magic or I’m afraid you’ll have to vacate the premises.”
I giggled as Jessie hissed through clenched teeth. “Jace. You’re embarrassing me.”
Jace palmed his chest. “I’m embarrassing you? Honey, if that nest on your head isn’t embarrassing you, nothing will. Now, come on, scoot.” He swished his hands at her. She rolled her eyes but grabbed the edges of her chair and scooted it toward him.
Jace dug in, ripping and separating and twisting. “I mean, honestly,” he said under his breath. Then he turned his attention back to me. “Don’t th
ink I’ve forgotten about you, miss. You’re not off the hook. Spill. Apparently, I’ve got time.” He scowled at the back of Jessie’s head.
“Ouch!” She winced. “Be careful.”
“Take your punishment, bitch. Next time you’ll think twice before coming out in public looking like a hot mess.” Without switching his focus, Jace stopped just long enough to point at me. “Talk.”
I sat back and crossed my legs, studying my nails. “I’ve just decided to fight, that’s all.”
Jace waved his hand in a circle. “More specific, darling. You’ve been fighting for weeks. You already look like She-Ra.” He placed his fingers back inside Jessie’s curls.
“Not that kind of fight. And excuse me, but She-Ra was hot.” I crossed my legs with a smirk.
“I much prefer He-Man. And his sword. By the power of Grayskull.” Lifting a leg, he accentuated each word with fire-rolling thrusts of his hips.
I snorted. “I forget how quick you are.”
“Hey, I resent that. I am so not quick.”
“Sorry. You come back quick. Better?”
“Thank you.” Jace’s eyebrows rose with an innocent modesty. “But I’m sure there’s another pun in there somewhere. I do have a rep to protect, ya know. Now stop distracting me. I’ve had five shots of espresso already. I’m wired as fuck.”
“I can tell.” Jessie winced again.
“Hush it.” He pulled her hair and spoke around her head. “Anyway, I’m on my game, so stop beating around the bush. We all know you don’t have one.”
Jessie was mid-sip and spit her water out in a spraying-splash.
“Jace!” My eyes nearly popped out of my head.
“The longer you wait, the more I say. I live for this shit. I can go all day. And night.” He fingered the corner of his mouth with his ring finger and crossed his legs in the opposite direction. “There. You’re done.” He spun away from Jessie, who was pulling out a pocket mirror, and turned his full attention to me.
“So this fight . . . Who are we fighting? Is it a pussy—” He cleared his throat. “I mean, a cat-fight? Do I need Vaseline?”
Breathe You (Pieces of Broken Book 2) Page 19