“Fuck, I don’t know what else to do,” he says.
“What is this about?” I ask. “Because this morning, when you were screwing me in your bed, you didn’t seem to have such a crisis. But then, you were fucking me, so of course you didn’t. Your dick was happy, and that’s all that matters to you.”
“That isn’t true.”
“Oh, really?” I’m halfway between screaming at him and crying my eyes out, and the heady swirl of emotions just makes me angrier. “Fuck you, Braxton. How dare you. How dare you touch me. It was a mistake? Fuck yes, it was a mistake. It was the biggest mistake of your life.”
“Baby—”
“Don’t you dare,” I say, my voice sharp. “You do not get to call me that. If you’re done with me, you do not have the right to talk to me that way.”
I can’t look at him anymore. I stomp off to his room and try to gather up my things. There’s too much. I practically moved in. Why the fuck did I do that? He never asked me to. He never said we should take this to the next level and live together. I just stayed, like a stupid puppy. God, I was such an idiot.
I pull out a duffel bag and start throwing things in. He better not come in here, or I’m going to punch him in the mouth. No wonder he didn’t tell Selene. This whole time, I let myself believe it was because this was so big, he didn’t want to freak her out. But then he kept putting it off.
I should have known. He didn’t bother telling her because he knew she’d be mad, and there was no point in pissing her off when he was just going to fuck me for a while and move on. Just like every other woman he’s ever had.
I fill the bag and toss in some of my stuff from the bathroom. I’m going to have to come back at some point to get the rest. Or just leave it and never get it back. That’s feeling like a better option, because I do not want to see him again. Ever. I don’t think I can take it.
My keys and phone are in the living room, so I have to go back in before I can leave. Braxton is still standing in the kitchen, unmoving. I don’t look at his face. I can’t. I pick up my stuff and head for the front door.
“Kylie.”
I pause with my hand on the doorknob, my bag slung over one shoulder.
“Please, I—”
“No,” I say. “You’re done. I’m leaving. And if you ever cared about me as anything more than a goddamn sex toy, you’ll leave me alone. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
I pull open the door and walk out, slamming the door behind me.
I make it to the car before I break down, tossing my bag onto the passenger seat and falling forward onto the steering wheel. My body shakes; sobs choke me. I can’t breathe. Part of me wants him to run after me—to come out and get in my car and tell me he was wrong. That he didn’t mean it and will I please come back inside.
But I know he won’t. He did mean it. He wouldn’t have said it otherwise.
I cry uncontrollably, until my chest hurts and my back is clenched and tight. I feel so lost, so hopeless. He was my world. I loved him with a fierceness that took my breath away, and it was all for nothing.
I take a few shaking breaths to calm down so I can drive home. I need to get out of here. I wipe my face with my sleeve and turn on my car. I want to go to Selene’s house and melt into a puddle in her arms, but I can’t. She never knew about us, and now she never will. Because fuck if I’m going to admit that I fell for it—that I was stupid enough to fall for him.
The best part about love was the high. I rode it all the way to the fucking sky, soaring above the world. Until I had Kylie, I don’t think I was ever really happy. I had happy moments, but they were brief and fleeting. With her, I lived each day filled with contentment—the sort of feeling that makes the rush of a hookup, the burn of whiskey, the adrenaline surge of doing something crazy all seem pointless. Those were quick hits that faded almost immediately. Kylie was steady. She made me feel open, like I could finally break down the walls and be who I am with another person.
The crash, though. The crash is killing me.
It was like jumping out of a plane with no parachute—on purpose. The free fall lasted for days. I spun out of control, no idea which way was up or down. I worked out like a maniac, got drunk as fuck, but nothing helped. I just fell, plummeting through the air, knowing I was going to hit the ground, not sure if I’d survive. Or if I wanted to.
Then I hit the dirt. I got home one night and fell into bed, still dressed. I couldn’t move. I spent two days barely functioning. I canceled my appointments, turned off my phone, and let myself drown.
When I turned my phone back on, I knew I wouldn’t have any messages from her. It still hurt like a kick to the gut to see that I didn’t.
Eventually, I got my shit together. I went back to work. I put in extra hours at the gym. I saw my sister. I kept it all in, clawing my way to a new normal.