Fueled

By the time we reach the elevator, the burst of adrenaline has subsided, burning off the remaining alcohol in my system. My entire body starts to shake. The emotion of what just transpired overwhelms me. Makes me realize the crazy-ass woman I just became in a public place that I in no way recognize. Of how I involved an innocent guy who didn’t deserve the wrath of Colton bearing down on him for no reason. I feel like I’ve just stepped out of a scene from Bravo’s Real Housewives, and I was the star attraction.

My knees give way as everything—having Colton, not having Colton, wanting Colton—becomes too much.

“No you don’t,” Beckett says as he tightens his grip around my waist before I slide to the floor. I take his lead as he nudges me out of the elevator and toward my room. My insides are numb with hurt and bewilderment. I glance up at him as he just shakes his head at me and murmurs so quietly that I think he’s talking to himself. “Jesus Christ, woman, are you purposely trying to push every single one of Colton’s buttons? Because if so, you are damn well succeeding!”

He holds his hand out when we reach my room, and I fumble in my purse for my keycard and hand it to him. He unlocks it and pushes open the door for me, pressing a hand to my lower back to usher me in.

I walk immediately over to my suitcase start yanking dresses off of hangers and shoving them and anything else I can find into the suitcase, hysterical tears spitting out every chance they can.

“Uh-uh. No way! Don’t you dare, Rylee!” Beckett shouts from behind me as he sees what I’m doing. I just ignore him, throwing, shoving, stuffing. Beckett’s protests continue, and I yelp out as I feel his arms circle around me from behind me, holding my arms down, trying to tame my hysterics.

He just holds me awkwardly, hushing me like a tantruming child who needs soothing. He embraces me as I break down and succumb to the tears and the heartbreak of the day. And to what will never be.

“I thought you guys were trying to figure this out. Could figure this out. You’re both miserable fucks apart.”

“And we’re miserable when we’re together as well,” I whisper. Tears he can’t see fill my eyes again, and I just shake my head at him. “He needs to concentrate, Becks. I’m…this…is a distraction he doesn’t need right now.”

“That’s a fucking brilliant statement if I’ve ever heard one…but what does that mean, Rylee?”

I wipe a fallen tear off my cheek with the back of my hand. “I don’t know…I feel like I don’t know anything anymore…I just need some space from him to be able to think and figure it out.”

“So what? You’re going to pack up and leave without him knowing? Sneak out?” He breathes out as he paces the room in front of me. “Because that’s just so much better, right?”

“Beckett…I can’t…” I mumble, “I just can’t…” I grab the handle of my suitcase and start to pick it up.

Beckett yanks it out of my hand, stepping around me to grab both of my shoulders and gives them a hard shake. “Don’t you dare, Rylee. Don’t you fucking dare!” he shouts at me, anger now firing in his veins. “You want to leave him?”

“Becks…”

“Don’t you Becks me. On any other day I’d tell you that you’re just as big of a fucking coward as he is…that both of you are so goddamned stubborn you’d rather cut off your noses to spite your faces. You didn’t work your shit out? I get it. I really do. It happens.” He sighs loudly, releasing me and walking a few feet from me before turning around and getting back in my face. “But by you walking out, Rylee, you’re fucking with my team—my driver—this race—my best friend. So suck it up and pretend for me. At least pretend until the race starts. That’s all I ask. You owe me that much, Rylee.” When he speaks again, he’s eerily calm and full of spite. “Because if you can’t do this for me, so help me God, Rylee, if something happens to him…it’s on you!”

I swallow loudly, my lips falling lax as I look at Beckett, a one-man army on a mission. “Look, Ry, I know it’s easier for you to do it this way…to leave this way…but if you love him—if you ever loved him? You’ll do this for me. If you leave, it’s too dangerous…I can’t have Colton flying close to two hundred miles an hour tomorrow with his head focused in la-la land thinking about you instead of being focused on the goddamn track.” He grabs my suitcase and sets it back down.

All I can do is look at him through blurred eyes and with a hurting heart. He’s so right on every level, and yet I don’t know if I can find it within me to pretend. To act like I’m unaffected when the sight of Colton causes my breath to hitch and heart to twist. When we continually tear each other apart and purposely hurt one another. I cry out a strangled sound, hating the woman that I’ve become in the last few days. Hating Colton. Just wishing that I could be numb again even though it felt so damn good to feel again. But if I can’t have him—have my beautifully damaged man—then I’d rather be numb than live in this endless abyss of pain.

Beckett sees the hysteria surfacing—sees the moment that I realize how much I actually love Colton and the devastation I foresee on the horizon—and mutters, “Motherfucker!” in exasperation at being the one left to tend to my irrationality before calmly walking me over to the bed and pushing my shoulders down. “Sit!” he orders.

He squats down in front of me, the motion much like a parent does to a child, and it makes me realize what a good guy Beckett really is. He reaches out and puts his hands on my knees, looking me squarely in the eye.

“He fucked things up, right?” All I can do is nod my head, my throat clogged with emotion. “You love him still, correct?”

I tense at the question. The answer comes so willingly into my mind that I know even though I love him—that loving him will most likely bring me a truckload of continual hurt—it’s just not enough. “Beckett…I can’t keep doing this to myself.” I lower my head, shaking it as my breath hitches again.

“Remember when I told you that Colton was going to push you away to prove a point?” I nod my head, listening to him but really just wanting to be by myself, wanting to take my suitcase with items sticking out of it at all angles and make a mad dash to the airport—back to structure and predictability and a life without Colton.

And that thought alone robs me of every emotion possible.

Beckett squeezes my knees to get me to focus back on him. “Right now is that time, Rylee. You need to push away everything in your head. Clear all of the assumptions out and think with your heart. Just your heart, okay?”

“I can’t do it anymore, Becks—”

“Just listen to me, Ry. If you really love him, then keep knocking on that fucking steel gate he has around his heart. If he’s really worth it to you, you’ll keep at it.” He shakes his head at me. “The damn thing’s got to give sometime, and you’re the only one I think is capable of doing it.” When I just stare at him with my mouth lax, he just shakes his head at me. “I told you, you’re his lifeline.”

I just stare at him, unable to speak, trying to digest his words. Am I his lifeline? Can I possibly be his lifeline? I feel more like a weight dragging us toward the bottom of the ocean than a lifeline. And why does Beckett keep telling me to clear all assumptions?

“That can’t be. Love doesn’t fix—”

I’m startled from my thoughts from a knock on the door. I start to stand but Beckett just pushes back down on my shoulder and goes to answer it. When he opens it, I see Sammy shoves Colton through the door before Beckett slams it shut.

Despite everything Beckett said, just the sight of Colton ignites my temper. I’m off the bed in a flash the minute he stalks into my room. “Uh-uh! No way! Get that egotistical asshole out of here!” I shout at Beckett.

“Fuckin’ A, Becks! What the fuck is this?” he yells, confusion in his voice. He glances down at the haphazard packed suitcase and grunts. “Thank Christ! Don’t let the door hit you in the ass, sweetheart!”

I step toward him, fueled with fury and ready to detonate.

“This is over here and now!” Beckett’s voice booms at us like a parent scolding his children. We both stop mid-motion as Beckett turns toward us, exasperation on his face and obstinance in his stance. “I don’t care if I have to lock you in this fucking room together, but you two are going to figure you’re shit out or you’re not leaving. Is that understood?”

Colton and I both start yelling at him at the same time, and Beckett’s voice thunders over ours. “Is that understood?”

“No way, Becks! I’m not staying in this room another second with this asshole!”

“Asshole?” Colton whirls on me, his body mere inches from mine.

“Yeah! Asshole!” I sneer.

“You want to talk about assholes? Try that stunt you pulled with bar boy back there. I believe you claimed the title right then, sweetheart. ”

“Bar boy? Wow, because having a harmless drink is so much worse than you with your gaggle of whores earlier, right?” I shove at his chest, the physicality of the action giving me a small iota of the release that I need.

Colton steps back from me and walks to the far side of the room and back, blowing out a puff of air from his lungs. My room feels small with Colton eating up the space, and I just want him gone.

He looks over to Beckett and shoves his hands through his inky hair. “She’s driving me fucking crazy!” Colton yells at Beckett.

“You’d know all about the fucking part seeing as you fucking Tawny is what started this whole thing in the first place,” I scream back at him.

Since Colton is standing beside Beckett, it’s hard not to notice the completely dumbfounded look on his face. “What?” Beckett stutters.

“What? He didn’t tell you?” I grind out looking at Beckett, my fists clenched as images flash through my head. “I told the asshole that I loved him. He bailed as fast as he could. When I showed up at the Palisades house a couple days later, Tawny opened the door. In his T-shirt. Only his T-shirt.” I focus completely on Beckett because I can’t bring myself to look at Colton right now. “Colton didn’t have much more on than that either. Told me nothing happened. But that’s a little hard to believe with his notorious reputation. Oh and the condom wrapper in his pocket.”

I finish my little rant, for some reason wanting to show Beckett what an ass his friend is, as if he didn’t know it already. Trying to explain to him why I have a case of the crazies right now. But when I stop, the look I expect to see is not there. In its place is utter confusion, and when he turns to look at Colton, it morphs into incredulity. “Are you fucking kidding me here?”

Now I’m confused. “What?”

Colton growls. “Leave it, Becks.”

“What the fuck, man?”

“I’m warning you, Beckett. Stay out of this!” Colton steps chest to chest with Beckett.

“When you start jeopardizing my team and the race tomorrow, then it becomes my business…” he shakes his head at him. “Tell her!” he bellows.

“Tell me what?” I shout at the both of them and their damn man code.

“Beckett, she’s like talking to a goddamn brick wall. What good will it do?”

Colton’s words hit my ears but don’t really seep in. I’m so focused on Beckett’s reaction that I don’t hear them.

“She’s right. You’re an ass!” Beckett snickers with disbelief. “You won’t tell her? Fine! Then I will!”

In a heartbeat Colton has Beckett pressed against the wall, his hands pressing against his chest, his clenched jaw inches from his. I suck in a breath at the sound of Beckett’s back hitting the wall, but I notice that he has no reaction otherwise to Colton’s temper. “I said leave it, Becks!”

They stare at each other for a few moments, testosterone oozing between them in two entirely different ways: Colton’s with force and Beckett’s with a simple look. Finally Beckett raises his hands and shoves back against Colton’s chest. “Then fucking fix this, Colton! Fix! It!” he shouts, pointing at him before yanking the hotel room door open and slamming it behind him.

Colton expels a litany of curses as he paces back and forth the length of the room with his hands clenched and his temper flaring.

“What was that all about?” Colton ignores my comment and continues to wear a path in the carpet in front of me, refusing to meet my eyes. “Damn it, Colton!” I stand in his path. “What don’t you want me to know?”

The eerie calm in my voice stops him momentarily, his head down, jaw clenched. When he lifts his head to look into my eyes, I can’t get a read on what underlies the anger I see boiling over on the surface. “You really want to know?” he shouts at me. “You really want to know?”

I step up to him, confronting him, standing on my toes to try and stretch my height to be eye level with him. “Tell me.” Fear snakes up my spine at what I might hear. “Are you that goddamn chicken shit you can’t fess up and just admit it? I need to hear it come out of your mouth so that I can get the fuck over you and get on with my life!”

He angles his head down and looks unflinchingly into my eyes, green to violet. My chest hurts so bad breathing feels impossible as time stretches.

His voice is quiet steel when he speaks. “I fucked Tawny.” His words float out into the space between us but stab sharply into my heart.

“You coward!” I scream, pushing against him. “You goddamn fucking coward!”

“Coward?” he bellows. “Coward? What about you? You’re so fucking stubborn that you’ve had the truth staring you in the face for three fucking weeks. You’re up there so high and mighty on your goddamn horse you think you know everything! Well you don’t, Rylee! You don’t know shit!”

His words that mean to hurt and push me away just fuel my temper even more, egging me on. “I don’t know shit? Really, Ace? Really?” I step closer to him. “Well how’s this? I know a bastard when I see one,” I seethe.

We stare at each other, both so willing to hurt the other that we neglect to see that we’re both tearing the other apart for the same reason. “Been called worse by better, sweetheart.” He smirks, taking another step toward me, the smarmy look on his face setting me off.

Before I can think, my hand flashes out in front of me to connect with his cheek. But Colton’s quicker. His hand jerks up and grabs my wrist mid-flight, our chests bumping against each other from our momentum. My wrist is locked in his hand and when I start to struggle away from him, he takes his other hand and grabs hold of my free arm that’s flailing. I’m frustrated and struggling against him, and I hate him so much right now that my chest hurts. His face is inches from mine, and I can hear his exertion in the breath that pants against my face.

“If you were done with me…had your fill of me? You could have just told me!”

He looks at me, face strained as he holds my arms from pummeling him. “I’ll never have my fill of you.” And then before I can even process what he’s doing, Colton’s mouth crashes against mine. It takes me a moment to react, and I’m so angry—so furious with him—that I buck against his hold and tear my mouth from his.

From the taste I crave but the man I hate.

“You want rough, Rylee?” he asks, my head not comprehending his words but my body reacting instantly. “I’ll give you rough!”

And from one beat to the next, Colton’s mouth crushes down on mine and takes every sensation in my body hostage for his sole manipulation. His hands still grip mine as I struggle to refuse his kiss, trying to push him off and away from me. Regardless of how much I thrash my head, his lips remain on mine, tiny grunts of satisfaction coming from deep within his throat.

I try desperately to deny the desire that starts to seep through the anger-induced haze in my brain. I try to reject the ache deepening at the apex of my thighs from the taste of his tongue melding with mine. I attempt to fight the pebbling of my nipples at the firmness of his chest as he brushes against mine.

Rage turns into desire. Hurt expels into yearning. Absence fuels our fervor. His touch blocks out all rationality. A soft moan catches in my throat as his mouth continues to tempt and torment every spot of my lips and within.

At some point Colton realizes that I’m struggling against him not to get away but rather to touch him. He releases my wrists and my hands go immediately to his chest where they fist into his shirt, aggressively pulling him into me. His hands, now free, are on the move, mapping the lines of my curves over and over again as our mouths convey the unbridled desire we still have for one another.

Every action and reaction reflects urgency. Necessity. Hunger. Longing. Desperation as if we’re afraid that at any minute we’re going to be pulled away from one another to never experience this again.

Colton brings a hand to cup the rounded curve of my butt as he jerks me into him while the other holds my neck still. I don’t even realize that the moan in the room is from me when the hard length of his arousal rubs against the V of my thighs as he pushes us backwards to the dresser behind me. He lifts me up and settles my backside on the top of it, pushing my dress up my thighs as he steps between my legs, all the while continuing his mind-numbing dexterity to my lips and tongue.

I lock my legs around his hips, pulling him farther into me. I know this is wrong. I know that after what he just told me, I shouldn’t be here doing this with him. But I am so sick of thinking. So sick of wanting him when I know we don’t belong together. Our two completely different worlds just don’t mesh. But I am so tired of missing him. So tired of wanting to hear his voice when I pick up the phone. So tired of needing him.

So tired of loving him without being loved in return.

I need this connection with him. I need the silence in my head that the all-encompassing feeling of him against my skin brings to me. There is a peace in the physicality of it all that I never realized before. A peace that I know Colton has used over and over in his life to numb his pain.

And right now, I need to numb mine.

I know its temporary, but I turn myself over to him. To the feel and taste and sound and smell of him. My troubling, all-consuming addiction. I willingly let myself get lost in him to forget for just a moment the pain I know I’ll feel when we’re no longer one.

I grip the waist of his shirt and pull it up over his head; our lips break for the first time since we’ve reconnected with each other. Immediately after the material is gone, we crash back together again. He tugs the straps of my dress off of my shoulders as his mouth laces open mouth kisses down the line of my neck and to the lacy edge of my bra. I cry out in shock and need as he yanks down one of my bra cups and closes his mouth over my nipple. I throw my head back at the sensation while one of my hands fists in the hair at the back of his neck. The burn in my core turns into a raging inferno directing my free hand to fumble with his belt and undo his pants.

I successfully unzip them, shoving my hands between the cotton of his briefs and his heated skin. I grab his rock hard erection in my hands, and he groans at the feeling of my skin on his flesh. His hands are instantly on my thighs, shoving my dress up higher and yanking my dampened thong to the side. He slides a finger along my seam, and I buck my hips at the feeling of his fingertips on me again. I press my hips into his hands, greedy and unashamed to lose myself in the pleasure. I cry out as he slips a finger into my core and then spreads my wetness around.

Before I can open my eyes and notice the absence of his fingers, he enters me in one fervent thrust. We both cry out as he stills and seats himself as far as possible within my wet heat. My walls clench around him as I adjust to the over-fullness of him within me. The muscles in Colton’s shoulders strain beneath my hands as he tries to hold onto his control. I feel it slipping—know that he’s a man about to snap—so I take the reins and start to move against him, moving my hips to tell him to go. Urging him to lose his control. To be rough with me. I don’t need foreplay right now. All I need his him. I’ve craved this for the past couple of weeks, and he feels so damn good right now I don’t need anything else to push me over the edge.

Colton grips his fingers, bruising the flesh at my hips, and holds me still on the edge of the dresser as he pistons his hips into mine. Over and over. Drive after delicious drive.

“God, Rylee!” He moves relentlessly within the confines of my thighs. He brings his mouth down and devours mine again, his tongue mimicking the actions below. And from one kiss to the next he pulls me into him, cupping my ass so we remain connected as he lifts me up and turns me around so we fall onto the bed behind us.

His mouth claims mine as he finds his rhythm again. I can feel the pressure building—can feel the conflicted bliss just within my reach—and grab the back of Colton’s neck and hold his mouth to mine as I drink him in. “You. Feel. Incredible,” he murmurs against my lips.

I can’t speak. Don’t trust myself to. Don’t know who I am right now. So instead I just I arch my back into him so I can change the angle of my hips allowing him to hit that nerve-laden spot deep within, over and over.

Colton knows my body so well already—knows what I need to bring me to climax—that he takes the hint of the subtle repositioning. He rears back onto his knees, grabs my legs, pushes them back, and places my feet flat against his chest. The angle allows him to surge even deeper, and I can’t hold back the moan of utter rapture as he bottoms out inside of me before pulling back out slowly and driving back in.

I look up at him, a sheen of sweat on his face and shoulders with my pink painted toenails bright against his tanned torso, and I meet his eyes. I hold his stare as long as I can until it’s too much for me to bear; it’s the first time since we’ve met that there is nothing guarding the emotion flickering through his eyes. It’s too much for me to comprehend—too much for me to think about when all I want to do is lose myself in this moment and block out everything else. To lose all train of thought.

I throw my head back, my eyes closed and hands gripping the sheets beneath me as the sensations threaten to overtake me. Colton must sense my impending release from my rapid breathing and the tightening of my thighs.

“Hold on, Ry.” He pants. “Hold on, baby.” He plunges into me, picking up his pace until I can no longer hold it back.

“Oh God!” I cry out as my body fractures into a million pieces of mindless pleasure. Release surging though me and consuming my every breath, thought, and reaction. The continual pulsing of my orgasm milks Colton to his climax. He cries out my name brokenly and throws his head back, welcoming his own release and jerking harshly within me. When he comes back to himself, I am still catching my breath and my thoughts with my eyes closed and my head angled back. I feel him remove my feet from his chest, and without breaking our connection, flanks his body over mine, resting his weight on his elbows propped on either side of me. He brings his hands to the side of my face and cups it, running his thumbs gently over the skin on my cheeks.

I can feel his breath feathering over my lips—know that his eyes are staring at me—but I can’t bring myself to open mine yet. I need to get a hold on my emotions before I open my eyes because no matter how wonderful that just was, it doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t take away the fact that he ran away when I told him I loved him. It doesn’t erase that he slept with Tawny to bury the very idea that someone might actually want more than just an arrangement with him. All it solidifies is that we can have incredible, mind-numbing sex.

And numb—right now—is how I feel.

I can feel the weight of Colton’s stare, but I can’t bring myself to open my eyes because I know the tears will fall. He sighs softly and I know he’s trying to understand me and what’s going on in my mind. He leans his head down and rests his forehead on mine, his thumbs still caressing the line of my jaw softly. “God, I missed you, Rylee,” he murmurs softly against my lips.

It’s harder to hear those words from his lips than it is to accept that we just had sex. The vulnerability in the way he says them with his rasp of a voice tugs at my heart and twists in my soul. I think maybe the idea that he’s had sex with numerous people but most likely never murmured those words to anyone before is what gets to me.

“Talk to me, Ry.” He breathes into me. “Baby, please talk to me,” he pleads.

It’s now that a tear slips out of the corner of my eye and slides down my cheek. I just keep my eyes shut and shake my head subtly, emotions warring violently inside of me. Our connection is enough to fix things for him. Not for me. How can I ever trust him? How can I ever trust me? This girl who sleeps with someone after they cheat on her—that’s not me. How can I live and love him knowing I have to constantly walk on eggshells because I fear that if I say anything to spook him, I’ll drive him into the arms of someone else?

For him, this is a reconciliation. For me, it’s a last memory. My final goodbye.

I hate myself terribly. Hate that I used him to try and soothe the pain that I know is going to own my heart and soul in the weeks and months to come. I hate that just as he seems to be needing me, I can’t bring myself to need him anymore. I can’t lose the me that I’ve just found—that ironically he’s just helped me find. Look what he’s doing to me. To the person I’m becoming. I’m a fucking neurotic lunatic around him. And yes—God yes, I love him—but love’s definitely not worth it if it’s one sided and this is the return I get.

He pulls back and kisses the tip of my nose, my chin trembling as I hold my realization in. “Tell me what’s going on in your head, Ry?” he urges as he laces tender kisses along the track of my lone tear and then up to both of my closed eyes before back to my lips. Such tenderness from a man that swears he can’t feel has me fighting the opening of the floodgates. And even though he hasn’t withdrawn from me, I sense that he feels like he’s losing our connection for as his lips brush mine again, he presses his tongue to part between them. He licks slowly into my mouth, his tongue dancing tenderly with mine, expressing his desire for me with a subtle, gentle desperation.

I respond to him and his unspoken request, needing this connection to hold on to everything I feel for him even though I know it’s just not enough anymore. Unreciprocated love never is. Eventually Colton ends the kiss and sighs when he pulls back and I keep my eyes closed.

“Give me one sec,” he says to me. I wince as he slips out of me, one now becoming two, and I feel the bed dip as he pushes himself up off of it. I hear the water running in the bathroom. I hear his footsteps come across the bedroom and am startled as he takes a warm washcloth and cleans me ever so gently before padding back into the bathroom. “Baby, I desperately need a shower. Give me a minute and then we need to talk, okay? We have to talk.” He brushes another kiss to my forehead, and I feel the bed dip again as he rises from it. I hear the shower start and hear the stall click closed.

I lie there in silence, my head humming with so many thoughts it’s starting to hurt. Do I love this man so magnificent, yet so damaged? Without a doubt…but where I used to think love conquers all, I’m not sure of that any more. He may care for me in his own way, but is that enough for me? Is always wondering when the other shoe is going to drop what I want in my relationship?

I’ve spent the past two years numb to emotion—fearing what it would be like to feel again—and now that I found Colton, and he’s made me do just that, I don’t think I can go back to how I was before. Merely existing, not living. Can I really be with Colton and hold back everything inside of me bursting to finally get out? I don’t think I want to revisit that life of void. I don’t think I can. I’m just not sure if he’ll ever be able to accept my love. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to tell myself that we can overcome all of this. That I can be strong enough and patient enough and forgiving enough to wait him out while he tackles his demons and accepts the love that I’ve offered. But what if he never does?

Look at the two of us tonight. We purposely hurt each other. We purposely used other people to get back at the other. Tried to tear each other apart. That’s not healthy. You don’t do that to someone you love or care about. My mom’s words flicker through my mind. About how someone always treats you the best in the beginning of a relationship, and if it’s not good in the beginning, then it’s not going to get any better. If the past twenty-four hours is any indication, then we definitely aren’t going to make it.

We are passionate, fiery, unyielding, and intense when we’re together. In the bedroom, that leads to immeasurable chemistry; in the relationship arena, that leads to disaster. And as heavenly as it would be to contain Colton to the bedroom so he could have his way with me over and over, that’s just not realistic.

The tears come now and I don’t have to hide them anymore. They rack my body and tear through my throat. I cry and cry until I have no more tears for the man just within my grasp yet so incredibly far away. I close my eyes momentarily and steel myself for what I’m about to do. In the long run, it’s for the best.

And I move without thinking. Use the numbness to guide me before I can’t bring myself to do this. Colton’s right. He’s broken. And now I’m broken. Two halves don’t always make a whole.

I fucked him—yes, it was most definitely fucking because there was nothing soft or gentle or meaningful about it—especially after he admitted to me that he fucked someone else. Tawny of all people. That’s not acceptable to me. Ever. But when I’m near him—when he dominates the air I breathe—I compromise on things I never would otherwise. And that’s not a way to exist. Compromising everything of yourself when the other person compromises nothing.

I catch the sob in my throat as I have trouble pulling my clothes on. My hands are trembling so badly I can barely slip my clothes to their proper position. I steal a glance in the mirror and it stops me in my tracks. Pure and utter heartbreak is reflected looking back at me. I force my eyes to look away and grab my suitcase as I hear Colton drop something in the shower.

I wipe the tears that start to fall in their familiar tracks down my cheeks. “Bye, Ace. I love you,” I whisper the words to him that I can’t say to his face. That he’ll never accept. “I think I’ve always I loved you. And I know I always will.” I open the door as quietly as possible and slip out of the hotel room, luggage in hand. It takes me a moment to physically release the door handle because I know once I lose the connection, it’s over. And as sure as I am about this decision, I’m still shattering into a million pieces.

I take a deep breath and let go, grab my luggage, and start to make my way toward the bank of elevators, tears flowing freely.