Page 142 of Sweet Distraction

“I’m well the fuck aware.” His hands fist and his muscles tense.

“What happened to whatever it takes, huh?” I ask.

His eyes close for a beat and then open slowly, before he looks down at his fingers. “I promise I’m trying to do what’s best here. For everyone. Please—”

“You can’t even stand to look at me,” I whisper.

“It hurts too much.”

“It hurts too much.” Four broken words. He genuinely believes he’s doing the right thing and nothing will change his mind.

“I love you.” The words are barely audible but I can see when they hit him. Three punches one after another, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. He’s already pulled away.

And the next time he meets my gaze, his face may be blank, but his eyes are shattered.

“You’ll thank me someday.”

And then he turns and walks into the house. I track the sound of his footsteps down the hall until I see the light in his studio go on. His safe space. Where he’ll let himself feel. Where he’ll shut the world out.

I’m tempted to waltz in there and tell him I’m not leaving.

I’m tempted to scream at the top of my lungs so that he sees how much he’s just hurt me.

I’m tempted to beg and fight harder for what we have.

But I don’t.

I can’t change the world around us, and it seems he thinks the world has won.

So instead, I stand here, my hands curled at my sides, tears rolling silently down my cheeks.

He thinks this is protection.

He thinks pushing me away is saving me.

But what he doesn’t know, what he’ll never understand, is that I didn’t fall in love with the man who promised to protect me.

I fell in love with the one who held his daughter like she was his whole world. The one who wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable in front of me and cheered on each and every one of my strengths. The man who was confident and cocky to the world, but who was sweet and tender to me.

I chose him.

And I’ll keep choosing him.

Even if he won’t let me.

Even if it means walking to my room, packing up my stuff, saying goodbye to Poppy, and walking away.

You can’t make someone love you. Common sense says that.

But it’s even harder to know someone loves you but actively chooses not to fight for you.

I deserve better than that.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Willow

I check my text messages again, even though I know I’ve already checked six times today.