Page 60 of Tainted Love
“This has been an amazing few months,” I say softly. “And I feel like I have my best friend back. What more can we ask for?”
His jaw clenches, and he turns away. “Best friend, huh?” he mutters bitterly. “See, here I thought it was more. Every night we were together, I thought we were building something deeper than friendship.”
My heart aches as I hear the hurt in his voice. He’s been through a lot of rejection in his life, starting with his own mother. And now, I’m adding to that pain.
“Taz, come on,” I plead. “I’m hardly the only person you’ve had sex with. Don’t tell me you got emotionally attached to all of them.”
He looks at me with sadness in his eyes, and I immediately regret my words. “Ask me how many people I’ve slept with, Sascha. Not just had sex with. But held in my arms, woke up with, and wanted to do it all over again and again.”
I hesitate before answering. “I don’t—“
“One.” He interrupts. “Sascha. The answer is one. Don’t talk to me like what’s been going on between us is meaningless because it’s not.”
I don’t know how to make things right. “What do you want me to say?” I ask helplessly.
“There’s nothing to say,” he says, tears breaking free and streaming down his face. “I’ll never be enough for you. I’m not enough for anyone.” His voice cracks on the last word.
I feel my own tears welling up as I watch him break down in front of me. This isn’t only about me. This is about all the times he’s been rejected and hurt by those close to him.
“That’s not true,” I argue. “I think you’re everything.”
“Not enough to admit to anyone around that we were a couple. Not enough to hold my hand, kiss me after a game, admit to everyone you care about me.”
“I don’t know, okay. I don’t know why I’m this way. I’m not used to showing my feelings. I’m not affectionate like Ivy.”
“I’m not asking you to be someone else,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m asking you to be yourself. That’s the person I’m drawn to. That’s the person I want to love me.”
My heart skips a beat at his words, overwhelmed with emotion. I do love Michael Tazman. I always have. But for some reason, I can’t say it. “You’re so important to me, Michael,” is all I manage to choke out. It’s a cop-out, a lukewarm, watered-down statement, and we both know it.
He refuses to look at me. “Taz. Look at me.” He finally turns his head, and his red eyes meet my own. “I care about you so much.”
“But you don’t,” he says, wiping away tears with the back of his hand. “Or you can’t. Maybe you won’t let yourself.”
He’s right. I’ve been pushing him away, afraid to open up and be vulnerable. Especially now, when he needs me more than ever.
“I need to grow up, Sascha,” he says with conviction. “I have to take things seriously if I ever have a chance of making it to the NHL.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“It means that I need to stop accepting distractions. I need to carve out room in my life for real and meaningful things.”
“And I’m not those things?” I ask with a choked sob.
“You’re just about the only real and meaningful thing I have,” he says. “But you don’t want it. At least not right now. I think I understand.”
My lips quiver as the salty tears run down my face, stinging my tongue.
“I need to make something of myself. For me. For Gram. We’re all that’s left.”
“Is everything alright?” Ivy asks, her hand gently covering mine. We sit at our usual coffee shop, the one Taz and I had planned to visit two weeks ago before our relationship fell apart.
“I suppose so,” I reply with a half-hearted shrug. “It’s all my fault anyway.”
“Oh, Sash,” Ivy says, tilting her head sympathetically. “You couldn’t have predicted this. None of us could have.”
“Why couldn’t I be honest with him about my feelings?”
Ivy sighs, her gaze drifting off into the distance. “Maybe because it’s too scary to face your true emotions. Or maybe you’re simply not ready for that level of vulnerability yet.”
