Page 12 of All I Have Left

Without looking back, I follow Shane to the parking lot.

He opens the door without a word, and then stalks around the front of the car, watchful of my every move, the door slamming shut behind him.

He sits in the seat, his hands shaking on the steering wheel.

With a sigh, he turns the key, the engine in his Mustang roaring to life with a rumbled jolt. No words are said to between us.

Controlling the sigh that wants to escape, I know this is the point I need to act civilized.

I need to be careful of what I say. Shane doesn’t know the truth about Grayson and me.

I never told him that he took my virginity, or what he meant to me.

That part of my life, I kept it to myself.

I didn’t even tell Frankie. But it did happen.

My unforgettable heartache. A night I will never ever forget. Never want to forget.

Nothing I can say will make Shane calm down so I remain quiet.

I fidget with my dress and fight back tears.

I tell myself it’s okay, he won’t hurt me too bad.

I make excuses and sadly, most of them, I convince myself in believing.

Isn’t that what we do when we’re in a toxic situation we can’t get out of?

We find ways to justify it to ourselves until we’re ready to make a change.

I think about Grayson again. I analyze every expression he gave me tonight.

Does he feel the same? Surely he doesn’t.

Part of me thinks that night we were together was a pity fuck.

He hadn’t stayed, so clearly it meant very little to him.

For so long, I had always been just Evie to Grayson.

The one who had always been there for him whenever he needed.

His sister’s friend. His friend. I was the one who always remembered that he was allergic to tomatoes and picked them out of everything for him so he didn’t get sick.

I was the one who knew he couldn’t play baseball unless he had his lucky socks and made sure they were in his bag before every game. I took care of him. Until he left.

Shane turns onto the road that leads to his house, away from town.

“Shane.” I sigh, knowing he’s heading the wrong direction.

“Can you take me home? I’m tired.” I rest my head against the window, staring at the passing cars, each headlight burning bright.

My eyes burn trying to hold back tears, both from the light and the pain.

My situation is frustrating and no matter how much I justify it, I know it’s wrong.

He says nothing to me but keeps driving.

Shane rents a house about three miles from mine, tucked away behind the high school.

I’m so exhausted that I must have dozed off during the drive because the next thing I know, I’m being placed on his bed.

He sits down next to me, the mattress dipping, his hands wandering up my thighs.

“Let me show you how much I love you.” He begins to take my dress off, kissing my shoulders.

His mouth moves, making his way toward my exposed neck, his tongue tracing a path over my collarbone.

He brings his hand under my chin, lifts my face up for a kiss.

“Shane, please stop.” I plant my hands on his chest, turning my head to avoid his kiss. “We’re not together anymore.”

“What if I don’t stop?” He hovers over me, held up by his extended arms. “Then what?” His wild eyes fill with hatred. “Is it really that bad that I get a little out of control because I want you so much? You should feel good that I can’t control myself around you.”

Shut up, shut up, I think to myself as I search his hard face. “ This is why we’re not together. You don’t listen to my words, and you hurt me.”

He blinks slowly, and then lets out a growl under his breath. Rolling off me, he sits up, runs his hands over his face. “I fucking listen to you. I do .”

There’s so much I can say to him right then. So much I should say. But I don’t. I can give anyone a piece of my mind, but not Shane Larson.

“I should just take it,” he says, leaning back on his hands. He lifts a finger, tugging at the edge of my panties.

I push his hand away. “I told you that we were over. When you knocked me unconscious the second time. When it ended with me losing our baby.” I ease my dress back down, not that there is much to pull down, but I try anyway.

He twists his head and searches my face.

My tears roll down my cheeks and for the first time in a while, I think he sees what he’s doing to me.

I move to my knees on his bed. Hesitantly, I lift my dress up over my hips to reveal my stomach.

“And the time you kicked me in the stomach because you said I lost the baby on purpose.”

He shifts his position on the bed, his arms wrapped around my middle. I can feel his breath against my stomach. My heart races, my whole body shaking. Angling his face, he looks up at me, his expression apologetic and sadder than I’ve seen in a while. “I’m fucked up. I know it.”

I touch his face and utilize the softness to my advantage. I can’t decipher the look in his eyes. His face twists into something else and he blows out a breath, dropping his eyes to my stomach. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I know.” Don’t mistake my calmness for weakness. I’m simply using it to deflect a reality that comes with aggravating him more. His lips meet my skin, fluttering over my hip. I hate his touch almost as much as him these days.

“Please don’t leave me.” He grips my backside, pulling me down on his lap. We’re eye level now. His mouth finds the shell of my ear and I don’t feel my pulse stutter like it did when Grayson did it earlier. All I have inside me now is sadness. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He knows what he’s done, and he’s not forcing me to stay any longer, but I’m also not fighting him. Lying back, he takes me with him, our bodies intertwined. I don’t move. I wait. With my back to him, his arms around me, I stay frozen.

It’s about ten minutes until he isn’t moving, his apologies have stopped and his breathing is heavier.

It takes me another ten before I slide out of his bed, careful not to wake him.

Standing at the edge of the bed, I adjust my dress and watch him sleeping.

As much as I hate this man for what he’s done to me, I hate myself more in this moment than I ever have before.

For accepting his apology the first time and leaving myself broken enough to give him another chance.

Because this guy, he doesn’t know how to love. He knows how to hurt.