Page 38 of Heimlock

The irony is that her rejection was the final nail in the invisible coffin cradling my heart. And now she wants to pry off the damning nail? It won’t be that easy.

With the fresh reminder of exactly what I’m worth in this life, I have no desire to reach for more.

When the phone buzzes three more times, I grab it with a frustrated groan.

Kyrielle: Are you ignoring me?

Kyrielle: Are you cleaning your sty?

Kyrielle: I can come help.

Against my better judgment, I smile. She’s definitely persistent.

Trinte: My sty is clean.

Kyrielle: What would have happened?

Sighing, I place the phone down, staring at the ceiling. History has proven time and time again that a relationship is not in the cards for me. Our fate would’ve been inevitable, possibly hurting me more than any of the others.

The phone buzzes.

Kyrielle: Come on, at least give me this.

Trinte: It wouldn’t have worked out.

Kyrielle: Why not?

Trinte: Because it never does.

Kyrielle: You must’ve had at least a few long-term relationships. You’re how old? Thirty-four?

Trinte: Thirty-five, and no. I’ve had nothing but bad luck with women.

The phone rings. Her name appears on the screen in big, bold letters. Fuck. I could ignore it, but something tells me she’ll continue to be tenacious.

“Yes?” I drawl.

“Seriously? Never?”

“Never,” I confirm.

“What’s wrong with them?”

A warmth spreads in my chest spreads at her automatically assuming they’re the problem. Even though she can’t see it, I shrug. “Various reasons. They apparently didn’t see commitment material, which was the overarching theme.”

“Why?” She sounds genuinely bewildered.

My pulse picks up speed. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve never been able to figure out what’s wrong with me.”

The words hurt to say, like a dagger inching into my heart at an agonizing pace. Everyone always says I’m great, but no one sticks around. It has to be me; I’m the common denominator.

“Oh, Trinte. There’s probably nothing wrong with you.”

I snort at the use of probably. “I appreciate the bill of confidence.”

A smile tinges her voice as she says, “You’re very welcome.”

Silence stretches between us, but it’s uncomfortable. This feels like a moment where I can decide the direction we go in. Where do I want to go from here? My hands shake as I clutch the phone to my ear.