Page 154 of Just for the Cameras
Where I could be a healthy contribution to her happiness rather than a troubled burden.
“Okay.” I tug on the back of my neck, taking another step away from her. “Um, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow unless you don’t want to. Up to you.” God, I sound like a rambling moron.
Just leave.
I offer her a sad smile, then turn and head through the hallway of her apartment and down the stairs to the street.
When the fresh air hits me, I let out a deep breath, the stress of that conversation constricting my chest.
I truly thought that was going to go so differently, but the minute I saw the pain I caused, I knew I didn’t have a right to even consider asking her to give me a chance. She lives in a world of sunshine, where she takescare of birds and can bring joy to others while standing up for those who don’t have a voice.
I live in a world of dark, foreboding clouds that are ready to strike me down any chance they get. Between the tumultuous, abusive relationship with my dad and the agonizing relationship with my mom…it’s not something she needs to be a part of.
Not to mention, I’m not mentally capable of a relationship. I told myself that a long time ago, so I don’t know what the hell I was thinking—other than that I feel lighter around her and I wanted to hang on to that.
I head down the street toward my truck, my brain a muddied mess of emotions that I’m having a hell of a time working through. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and needing the reprieve from my thoughts, I pull it out and find a text from Maple.
I pause, about to turn the corner to head toward my truck.
I swipe open the screen and read two simple words that steal my breath.
Maple:Come back.
I look over my shoulder at her apartment building, my body wanting to flee in that direction, my brain telling me I should leave her be.
The problem is, though, I’ve never made the smartest decisions, and before I can stop myself…I head back in the direction of her apartment building.
CHAPTER 29
MAPLE
My hand shakes as Iset my phone down, hoping that he gets the text, that he looks at it before he gets in his truck and leaves.
Seeing him here, waiting for me at my apartment, surprised me so much that it took a second for my brain to register what was going on. Then Hank had warned me when I was putting away my groceries, telling me to be careful, to not let him hurt me…as if Graydon has ever laid a hand on me.
I reassured Hank over and over that Graydon wasn’t that kind of guy, but when he stands there, towering over you, hands flexing, I can understand where Hank gets that idea. But Graydon would never.
I know Hank is going to text me later to ask if I’m okay, and as I’m standing here, hoping Graydon comes back, I honestly don’t know what I’m going to say because I’m so confused.
He painted a mural…for me.
He came and apologized.
And that hurt look in his eyes that he seems to carry more often than not, I looked straight into it as he apologized from the depths of his soul, and I felt, at that moment, my walls break and crumble. The walls I haphazardly put up after he embarrassed me. With one apology, they were torn down, and I was left with a raw, beating heart and the need to comfort this man, to reach out to him and…and…God, I don’t know, but I need to see him.
I can also admit to myself that the only reason he had the capacity to hurt me so much…is because I care about him so deeply.
There’s a quiet knock at my door, and my body freezes as I stare at it for a second.
Heart hammering.
Chest heaving.
I reach out and grab the door handle, opening it to find Graydon on the other side, his head bent down, his shoulders slumped and defeated.
“Maple,” he says quietly.
“Don’t say anything.”
