Page 88 of The Long Way Home
“Jesus,” he shouts, and it startles me. “Save me the performance, Rachel. You act like you’ve been some warrior for this relationship. Like you’ve actually beentrying.You walk around like a victim, and I’m just supposed to take the hits.”
I whip around, eyes flashing. “You’re really going to stand here and try to makethis”—I gesture between us, my fingers shaking—“myfault? You’re un-fucking-believable.”
He steps toward me again, but slower this time. His tone changes as he pretends to be soft with me. “You know I love you, right?”
The emotional whiplash hits hard. His voice drops, trying to make a wound heal with words. But it’s too late. He reaches to touch my shoulder, and I jerk away. “You’re just… you’re going through something. And I’ve been trying to give you space. I’ve been trying to be patient. But it’s like you don’t even see that.” His eyes are wide, almost pleading. “I’ve stood by you through everything, Rachel. Don’t throw that away because you’re having a bad day.”
The old me would have believed him. I would have swallowed my feelings, folded myself smaller, let the apology sit on my tongue because asking for more felt selfish. But I don’t want to be that girl anymore. I’m sick of being that girl.
“No, Ben. The only version of me you like is the one who exists to please you. And I hate to tell you, I don’t exist to please you.”
I grab my jacket off the chair, keys digging into my palm.
He calls after me, voice slipping back into that sharp edge. “Call me when you’re ready to be an adult and actually talk!”
My keys bite deeper into my skin as I clench my fist. Every part of me hums with frustration and something colder. I’m so fucking done with this.
I walk out without saying another word. I slam the door behind me. The sound follows me down the porch and out into the cold.
The morning air is sharp as I stand on my front porch. I just need a minute to think.
I try to focus. I try to piece together the rest of last night to make sense of what I’m feeling. I know Ben isn’t what I need. That part is clear to me. But I want to be sure I’m not doing this for anyone else. I want to know I’m making this choice for myself.
I remember the bar. The drinks. Margo leaving before I was ready. I remember how much I didn’t want to go home. I remember the moment I realized Ben wouldn’t even think to come find me.
And Rhett did. He didn’t know where I was, but he still came.
He sat next to me at the cemetery and didn’t try to talk over my silence or my rambling. He didn’t rush me or make it uncomfortable.
He showed up.
He didn’t make me feel like a burden.
Rhett may not be in love with me. He may not see me as anything more than a friend or an obligation. But in less than a day, he treated me with more care and respect than Ben ever has. I can rely on Rhett.
He didn’t make me feel like I needed to apologize for having feelings. He didn’t make me feel like I had to shrink myself to be acceptable.
I turn back to face the front door. I’m done. I’m not going to willingly spend another moment in this relationship.
When I open the door, Ben is still standing in the same spot. And, of course, he’s back on his phone. He sets it down the second he sees me, playing concerned now.
He lifts his eyebrows. “You’re back fast.”
“I didn’t go far,” I say flatly.
“You cooled off?”
I let out a dry, bitter laugh. “That’s what you think this is? That I needed tocool off?”
His jaw clicks. “You stormed out like a child. What was I supposed to think, Rachel?”
“That maybe I’ve finally hit my limit.” My voice is calm. “That maybe I’m done making excuses for how invisible you make me feel.”
Ben straightens, a mocking grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. “Here we go again. Poor Rachel, never seen, never heard. It’s a boring storyline, Rach. It’s always the same shit. You’re exhausting. This fight is exhausting.”
“No. You don’t get to flip this on me. Not this time. I’m not doing this dance again with you. No more half-apologies, no more excuses. No more pretending like I’m crazy for wanting something real from you.”
The room goes quiet.
