Oh God.
“You do know me,” Jack said, his voice rough. “You know me better than anyone on this planet. And I pegged you for more honesty than that. I know you felt something real, not based on the illusion of Jack Eversea. I can see it. I can feel it. It is real. The only real fucking thing I’ve felt in forever.”
“Stop it, Jack.” I winced, resisting his words as best I could. “It doesn’t matter. How I feel about you isn’t even up for discussion. It’s irrelevant because I already know where this ends. I’ve been there.”
I knew I couldn’t have Jack in moderation. I wasn’t capable of it. I’d opened my whole heart to him already, and it had ended in a nightmare. All I could do now was put the deadbolt on, close the shades, and pray for daylight.
“I understand why you’re saying this, but you’re wrong,” he implored. “Shit. I did this all wrong. I’m pushing you. I went too fast. I’m sorry. I just needed to see you again, tell you what happened, not freak you out.”
“Jack. I’m not an idiot. Whether you push me or not still leads to the same place. Fast or slow, I’m not going there. And I thought it would matter to me to know what happened, but I don’t think it will make any difference.”
“I should have told you before how I felt.”
“God, Jack. What you should have done if you really felt the way you say you do, was not leave the way you did and not contact me for over half a year. What? Did you expect me to wait around pining after you? Well, I did. Does that make you happy? Make you feel more appreciated? Do you not get enough love from your adoring fans? I was devastated. But I’m moving on now. Or trying to. And I will as soon as you leave.”
I breathed through the crushing pressure that suddenly sprang up in my chest and gripped his arms tighter to stop the shaking in my hands. I needed to finish this, give him no way out. I couldn’t go back now. I’d only be here again the next time. “If there’s any truth to what you are saying about being in love with me—”
“No,” Jack said desperately, his green eyes flaring. “Don’t say it, Keri Ann. I know what you’re going to ask of me. Please … don’t do it.”
“If you truly love me, then you’ll respect my request … and walk away from this. Leave. Me. Alone.”
When I was nine, Alex O’Rourke hit a six in cricket that nailed me right in the chest. It was a hell of a shot, and he made the Second Eleven’s team for it, even though he was only on the Under-Nine’s up until then. I was out for the count and flat on my back. There was no air, no oxygen, and no capacity to get some. I lay on the field presumably turning blue before the umpire made it over to me.
The evidence of the hit was a smear on my Aran v-neck from the red leather cricket ball right above my solar plexus.
The bright blue and cloudless British sky above me darkened around the edges and narrowed to a pinprick as my starved lungs communicated frantically, and in vain, with my brain. That tiny spot of light was the last thing I remembered until I woke up in hospital while they were x-raying my chest.
Standing in front of Keri Ann, as she closes the door on our relationship feels like that day. I know I need to keep breathing in and out. And I know I should say something, anything, to stop her, but my brain doesn’t know how.
I’ve said too much, anyway. And I haven’t told her enough.
I’ve fucked up.
I need to keep it together. I don’t want to beg and plead, but I’m already dangerously close to doing that.
Seconds drag by as I watch Keri Ann’s face deliver those words to me. Words that strike me where my deepest fears and insecurities lie.
I’m winded. My lungs, my mind, my tongue won’t cooperate. My entire body has betrayed me. If my mind was fully functional right now, and not in catatonic shock, if it was able to bark out an order for me to walk, walk to her and wrap my arms around her small frame, or even to walk out, I’m not sure my legs would get the message.
The only thing I can feel is a clawing, dark nothingness moving like sludge through my veins—taking over. It’s seeping dead emptiness through every inch of me, shutting me down in increments, until I can’t even see in front of me.
Finally, a synapse must make a last ditch attempt to fire and rescue me because I find myself turning away. Able to move.
I don’t even remember getting back to Devon’s, which is a miracle in and of itself because it’s so fucking dark here.
Because of the sea turtles.
I enter the house and sag against the wall. The memories of Keri Ann hit me like an avalanche. All the feelings that have been quiet and dead for the last twenty minutes switch back on at full volume.