Wasted Time (The Steel City #1)

42. Penny

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

penny

I pull the pillow closer to my chest, wiping my eyes with my sleeve.

I thought I was okay. I thought the worst of it was over, but the second I crawled into Wyatt’s spare bed, the reality of it all crashed right onto my shoulders. Sitting alone and running over that fight in my head is almost worse than the fight itself.

I laid myself bare on that street. Naked. Vulnerable. Honest. I admitted my deepest, darkest fears and then I fled. I have no idea what Declan was going to say to me. I hope that is for the best. Anything less than ‘I need you and I’ll wait for you to sort out your head and heart’ would have killed me.

If you haven’t gathered it yet, I’m a runner. It took me a while to realize that about myself. Apparently, I flee when things get scary. Twenty-year-old me would be so ashamed to see how I turned out.

I don’t even know why Declan and I are so angry at each other anymore. The whole drive to Wyatt’s, I kept trying to pinpoint the exact moment that it got this bad. It’s such a mess of reasons that it doesn’t seem like there is a logical cause or solution.

I’m hurt. He is too. I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to settle that pain. Every time I think that I can, I react the opposite of how I feel. I push . I push him. Why do I do that?

A knock sounds on the door. I sniffle, wiping my eyes. Turning, I glance over my shoulder just as the door creaks open.

Expecting Wyatt with a tea or a snack, I open my mouth to tell him that I’m not very hungry, but to my utter surprise and horror, it’s not Wyatt who walks through the door.

It’s Declan.

He slowly steps through the small crack he makes in the doorway, nervously holding his hat between his hands. He meets my eyes with his head hung low, nodding timidly in greeting, and he shuts the door behind him.

Him and I, alone in a room together again.

My heart aches in my chest. Not in a good way. In a terrible, terrified way. I feel like a deer stuck in a trap, the predator stalking toward me while I’m unable to free myself. He won’t attack me, I know that. But he has the power to hurt me.

What the fuck?

No. No. Please, not right now. I don’t trust what I’ll do or say if I’m cornered into a conversation after the one we just had. Who did I piss off in my last life to have him keep showing up when I can’t handle it?

I don’t want to do this. I’m still too raw from earlier, and it typically takes me some time to heal after I lay my soul bare like that. I’m tired. I’ve already said too much and regretted it the second those admissions left my lips. I’m scared of what I’ll say now to avoid having to say what I feel.

I whirl back around to face the wall, clinging to my pillow like a life raft. My shoulders start to shake with more tears, though I’m desperate to stop them. It’s immature, but I need to put my back to him as quickly as possible. I don’t want him to see me crumble.

“Pen,” he whispers, and I can hear the sympathy in his voice.

I shut my eyes, squeezing the pillow even tighter.

Please go away.

Please.

His weight dips on the edge of the bed as he sits. I shake my head. Maybe I’m hoping that he’ll get the message. He needs to back off. There’s an explosive strapped to my chest that is bound to set off at any moment, killing us both.

Within seconds, a soft hand is placed on my back. It doesn’t move. It just sits there, reassuring and comforting.

“Penny.”

“Just go,” I cry. It’s a pathetic plea. I need him to believe it’s what I want.

He’s still for a second. Quiet. Then his voice comes out softer than any touch on my skin. “I don’t want to.”

I force my eyes shut, my chest aching.

“I need you to,” I say. I don’t know if that’s true. I don’t think it is.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Just… let me say something and then I’ll go.”

“Declan,” I plead in a whisper. I can’t turn and face him, even though he probably deserves a face-to-face conversation. I’ve never claimed to be brave. I don’t want to see those eyes, that face. I’m scared it’ll only hurt me worse.

“I didn’t know that’s why you left,” he continues, ignoring me. I bury my face in the pillow. “We could have talked about it. I could have explained what was going through my head. But you needed to answer me. You needed to explain what was going through yours. ”

Yeah, I know all of the ways I handled this wrong. I think I knew that I was making those big mistakes as I was making them. Sometimes, it’s easier to regret things than it is to deal with facing the scary things head-on. I made this ten times harder than it had to be. It’s what I do, apparently. Especially when it comes to him.

“Dec,” I beg in a whisper.

“You shut me out. Over and over again. I’m mad at you, too.”

I sigh, pulling my head back to look at him. My tear-stained face finally meets his. I’m expecting to see that same, frustrated expression that argued with me on the street. I don’t. He doesn’t look malicious; he doesn’t look like he’s on the defense at all.

He just looks desperate to put an end to this.

And I feel desperate. For what? I’m not sure. All I know is that our fight on the street scared me. It made me realize that having him would come with the possibility of losing him.

Remember when I said sometimes it’s easier to deal with regrets than facing things head-on? That’s what I’m about to do right now. Make him hate me rather than have this conversation. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know why. I just know that I’m doing it before I have time to think about the consequences. I’m doing it because it feels like the only way I’ll be able to breathe again. I’m doing it because it’ll be easier in the long run.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” I say again.

His eyes flash with hurt.

“Yeah, well. When do you ever?” he snaps, dropping his hands to his lap in defeat. “You prefer to just drop bombs and run away, right? Delete me off Instagram and then pretend we were never friends. Sleep with me and then never speak to me again. Fuck up my game and then try to come stay at my house. I don’t particularly want to talk to you either.”

My heart drops to my feet. Fresh tears burn my eyes.

Good. This is what I wanted, right? Hurt me back, Declan. Break my heart.

“Then go.”

“No,” he snaps. He reaches forward, wrapping his fist in the material of my sweater, just under the strings. He yanks me upward roughly until we’re face-to-face. I can’t stop the gasp that leaves my throat. “I don’t want to talk to you. I have to. We can’t keep doing this. I can’t . Don’t you get that? Don’t you feel that?”

My lip wobbles. He sounds so sad that it chips away at the only strong parts left of my heart—the pieces that are supposed to protect me .

His eyes drop to my mouth, softening.

I want him to leave.

I need him to stay.

I know that whatever comes out of his mouth next is going to destroy me. If not now, then weeks from now, months maybe.

I have to beat him to the punch.

“I’ll stay away when you come home from now on. I’ll let you have your time with our friends. I know that you can only visit so often. It’s not fair that I impede on that. We won’t have to keep doing this.”

His face falls. He looks genuinely taken aback. “What?”

“It’s easier that way. Everyone wins. We don’t have to see each other, and our friends can have us both,” I whisper, my voice breaking.

His eyes search my face, his brow furrowing deeper with every passing second. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

I don’t answer. I can’t focus on anything but the way he’s holding me upright, how his fist is shaking as he grips my hoodie like it’s grounding him to this bed.

“There’s no hope,” he says with a bitter laugh.

He unravels his hand from my clothes, and I slowly lower myself back onto the bed. Declan stands, shaking his head. He adjusts his hat, keeping it backward, letting me see every inch of his face glaring down at me.

“There’s no hope for you, is there? You refuse to be anything but an immature, scared little girl that cannot look her mistakes in the face and deal with them. Grow up, Penny! The people around you are trying to deal with the messes you make. They’re cleaning them up while you sit there and feel sorry for yourself. You can’t keep burying your head in the sand and acting like it’s the easier thing to do. It’s easier for you. It’s harder for everyone else!”

Fight or flight. Fight or flight.

Flight isn’t working. He won’t let me flee.

Time to fight.

“You know what? Fuck you.”

He shoots me a tired look, as if I just proved his point. “I want to make it very clear, here and now. I tried. For the hundredth fucking time, Penny. I tried .”

“Noted,” I spit.

Why am I doing this? Why am I making this worse? I want to scramble off this bed and launch myself at him, wrap my arms around him and breathe him in. Tell him how much I need him, how much I miss him. How much I don’t mean a single thing that I’m saying right now.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it?

He stares at me, and I see the very second all his resolve evaporates. I see the exact second he takes me at my word. I see the moment I lose him for good.

I see the moment I win.

And it’s the worst prize on the planet.

“I’m done,” he whispers, dropping his hands with a shrug. He shakes his head, like he’s finally seeing me for who I am: an unforgivable mess. “This isn’t worth it. You get your way. I’m done.”

“Fine,” I say, my mouth trembling. I hurriedly wipe my face free of tears with my sleeve.

He stares at me for a few seconds, like he can’t decide if he means it.

I don’t.

Can he see that? Can he feel it?

“Do me a favor and please, don’t contact me ever again,” he says quietly.

Oh god, my heart is breaking. My chest is caving in. I’m going to die of an unhealable pain, but this needs to happen. It’s the only way.

I tear my eyes away, refusing to look at him while he delivers the final, fatal blow.It’s what I wanted. I’m protecting my heart by breaking it now rather than later.

“I can’t have you in my life anymore. I can’t do this anymore.”

I clutch my pillow to my chest, glaring straight ahead instead of looking at him. “Okay.”

“Merry Christmas, P,” he says so softly that I have to suck in a breath to keep my composure.

I stare at the wall, not bothering to wipe my face. I stay that way, frozen in time, until he turns and leaves the room, shutting the door gently behind him. I stay in the same position even as the tears begin to worsen and I’m shaking with the force of them.

I’m falling apart.

I’m letting the last of my broken pieces shatter and explode, rather than building them up again only for Declan to break me even worse in the future. I’m saving myself now . I’m protecting the most vulnerable pieces of me now , so that they’ll still be there someday. So that my heart has a chance down the line.

It’s easier this way.

It is easier, right?

And when Wyatt pokes his head in and sees me in this state, when he rushes to me, crawling onto the bed so that he can pull me into his arms, I still can’t breathe.

The relief that I expected never comes. I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to take a full breath again.

I’ll make this clear right here, right now. That’s my fault. Not Declan’s.

It’s never been Declan’s.