Page 58 of Merciless King

“No,” I said, getting in first. I didn’t want to hear the rest of what he was about to say.

For now. For the time being. For a little bit longer.

“London, we need to talk,” he said.

I lifted my hand, stopping him again. We’d enjoyed each other, taken pleasure from one another. But that’s all it was for him. I didn’t hold it against him. He hadn’t lied to me or pretended it was more than it was. “There’s nothing to talk about.” I was determined to make this easy on him. He’d told me from the start that what we had was temporary, and I’d agreed to it. I didn’t want him feeling sorry for me. Or worse, pity. And I sure as hell didn’t want him thinking he owed me anything. He’d done more for me than anyone would expect. So much more.

So I said, in what I hoped was a strong voice, “I need to move on. Staying here with you, it’s a reminder of everything that happened. I need to start fresh, Van…away from here. I’m leaving the city.”

He stilled, every muscle in his body seeming to go rock solid. “You’ve made a decision, then? You’re definitely leaving?”

The hoarseness to his voice slid over me like roughened velvet, tickling my scalp, lifting goose bumps over my body. “I think it’s for the best.” And it was. If I was gone, he wouldn’t worry about me, that he’d hurt me.

We could both move on with our lives.

That thought made my stomach hurt, the same hurt I used to feel when my dad got deployed and I knew I wouldn’t see him for months. A feeling of homesickness. Our house hadn’t been my home—my dad had. And right then, imagining leaving and not seeing Van again, I got that same feeling. Dread and panic and a deep sadness all rolled into one.

His nostrils flared as he stared at me, that muscle in his jaw doing overtime. “You sure about that, sweetheart?”

I nodded and made myself hold his eyes as I said the words that would totally release him from his feelings of obligation toward me. “Thank you for everything, Van. You are the best man I’ve ever known, but being around you now, after everything that’s happened, it’s too hard. It’s…unbearable.”

His hands went to his hips and he looked at the ground for a moment then back up at me. “Unbearable?”

“It’s not you. It’s what being around you…reminds me of. All the fear and pain and everything that’s happened.”

He was quiet several long seconds, then he said, “I can’t tell you how sorry I am to hear that.”

I swallowed compulsively. I wasn’t sure if I was going to start crying or throw up. Speaking wasn’t going to happen, so I dipped my chin and walked out of the room.

To pack my bags.

14

Van

Unbearable.

For London, being around me was unbearable.

How did you fight that? How did you make someone stay when being around you hurt them? That’s exactly what I’d been trying to avoid. I knew what happened when her PTSD was triggered, when her past resurfaced. She’d gotten the nightmares, the flashbacks under control for now. I sure as hell didn’t want to be the reason they came back.

I’d been about to ask her not to leave, and she’d told me I was the goddamn physical embodiment of her attack, a walking, talking reminder of the worst time of her life.

I wasn’t even sure if this thing between us would have worked, could work. She sure as hell wasn’t the only one with issues, but I realized I’d wanted to try.

But it didn’t matter what I wanted.

I watched her walk away, disappear into the bedroom, I guessed to pack, and yeah, that shit stung. But this wasn’t my call. No matter how much I wanted her, I couldn’t make her stay, and I couldn’t make her want to be around me. The last fucking thing I wanted was to cause her more pain.

Pacing the apartment was all I was good for while I waited for her to come back out, and even though I knew she was packing, my gut felt like there was a rock sitting in it when she walked out carrying her bags. She was wearing one of the dresses I loved her in, the ones that softly hugged her gorgeous curves.

“I’m ready,” she said, a small smile curving her lips.

Lips I hadn’t spent nearly enough time kissing. I pulled on my jacket with more force than was necessary and snatched my keys off the side table. “Let’s go, then,” I said, doing my best to keep my frustration out of my voice.

She nodded and walked out the door ahead of me.

The drive to her apartment didn’t take nearly long enough, and she didn’t stop me when I grabbed her bags and followed her up.