Page 58 of The Long Way Home
“Leave. Him. Sunny.”
She goes completely still. For one suspended second, I think she might close the distance herself. Her mouth parts just a fraction more. Her chest rises too fast.
“You deserve better,” I say, the words steady even as my body betrays me. “You always have. And I’m sick of watching you settle, and so would your brother.”
Her head tilts back, the words physically hitting her. She blinks, and a tear wells in her eye, but she doesn’t let it fall.
“You don’t get to tell me what I deserve,” she snaps. “How dare you pick apart my relationship like you know what love is.”
She inches closer. Her hand presses into my chest. I feel it through bone and muscle and years of restraint.
“Have you ever even been in love?” she demands, and I don’t think I’ve taken a single full breath since she put her hand there.
“I’ve never seen you with a woman for more than two dates,” she scoffs. “And you think you get to tellmewhat love is?”
She shakes her head, a bitter laugh leaves her, but she doesn’t move away. “You know what, God forbid I’ve changed over the course of four years, Rhett. You have no idea who I am. You don’t get to stand here and act like youknowwhat I need. Not anymore. You lost that right, Rhett, when you walked out of my life.”
There is no space left between us now. None that matters, anyway.
“Rach—”
“No. You—you show up after all this time and throw all this in my face like I’m supposed to what—just fall into your arms, Rhett? Is that what you want?” She pokes my chest. “Do you want me to thank you for noticing things about me that anyone could if they tried hard enough?”
“I’m not asking you to fall anywhere.” I swallow, but I don’t look away. “I’m telling you that you deserve a man who doesn’t make you question your worth. You deserve someone whonoticesyou.”
She stares at me, eyes wide, something sharp and unguarded flickering there. I wonder if I’ve gone too far; if I’ve crossed the line I’ve spent years tiptoeing around. But someone had to say it. Someone had to break the silence that has been choking us both.
She is so close I can see the flutter of her pulse at her throat. It’s wild and uneven. My eyes fall, helplessly, to the delicate curve of her collarbone, to the rise and fall of her chest. I trace her outline without touching.
If I move an inch closer, I could feel her breath against my skin. If I reach out, I could close the distance that has been haunting me for years.
But I don’t. I stand here, frozen in the ache of wanting, every nerve pulled tight, afraid that if I touch her now, I’ll never be able to stop.
“You think this is love? Can you really look me in the eyes and tell me you think what you and Ben have is love?” I ask. “You’re a lot of things, Sunny, but stupid isn’t one of them.”
“Don’t tell me who I am,” she whispers back to me.
The silence crashes down between us. And I’m certain this is a moment I can’t undo.
“If you can tell me you love him, Sunny, that he’sitfor you, I’ll walk away. I won’t bring him up again.”
“He’s—”
From the porch, Margo’s voice cuts through.
“Dessert’s out!”
Neither of us move at first. Rachel’s breathing is still uneven, her attention locked on me like she forgot how to look away. I step back, letting her hand fall from my chest, before I do something I won’t survive.
“Go on,” I say reluctantly.
Her gaze breaks. One tear slips free before she can stop it, but she swipes it away quickly, denying it any power. And then, only then, she turns her head toward the light spilling from the porch, and the spell between us breaks. Her shoulders pull back, and I watch as she zips herself shut from the inside out.
All I can think about is how much I hate myself for making her cry. That I pushed hard enough to hurt her. I never wanted that. I never wanted to be another reason she looked like she was breaking.
I stay behind, watching her go. Maybe she really was never mine to keep.
Chapter Thirteen
