Page 88 of Mr. Brightside

“Please don’t do this,” he whispers.

I turn on my heel and storm away. Too scared—too sad—too raw to look back and take in the pain I left in my wake.

Chapter 37

Jake

Idon’tevenrememberstarting the car. Thank God for self-driving technology. As I coast through the familiar streets of Hampton, I’m on autopilot, too. Which is a good thing, since I’m completely distracted and trying desperately to keep Cory’s expression out of my head.

I’m such an asshole. I regretted every word the second I said them, instantly wanting to suck them back in and swallow them down. But it was like I couldn’t stop myself from shutting him out and cowering away from the situation.

I bolted. I wish I could say I’m surprised by my own behavior. But this is what I do best. Run away. Flee.

I just… fuck. I just couldn’t let him see me like this. Not after everything has been so fucking good between us.

Except the truth is undeniable: all my attempts to hide my pain were in vain. He sees me. He fucking sees me more clearly than I see myself. He knows that something’s eating me from the inside out. It was pointless to try to hide this from him.

What’s it going to be like tomorrow? Next week? It’s not like he’s going to forget what happened. I can’t erase the memories of what he just saw and how I reacted.

Fuck.

I can’t tell him about Ian.

And yet…

Not telling him doesn’t feel like an option anymore, either.

I groan as I ease the car to a stop at a red light and hear the train horn blast in the distance. Acceptance glides over me like a shroud as the weight of realization sets in.

I can’t hide from Cory. I’m too far gone—tooin love—to not open up to him now.

It was so stupid to think I could just—what? Ignore what happened? Pretend like there isn’t this secret festering inside me?

Telling him might ruin everything.

But not telling him would be worse.

“Fuck!” I push down hard on the accelerator as soon as the light turns green. The momentum has my body slamming into the seat, forcing me to suck in a long breath and refocus.

I don’t want anything to change between us.

But what he said—“this is what a relationship is”—he’s right.

This isn’t something I’ve been able to get past on my own. But maybe, if I open up to him and confess what I did, we can face it together.

I turn into the closest parking lot as I grab my phone from its mount. I take a moment to steady my breathing, the interior of the car illuminated by the glow from the Jersey Bagels sign in front of me. Ironically this parking lot is smack in the middle of Hampton. It’s the halfway point from my condo to Clinton’s and The Oak.

I shoot off an overdue reply to Dempsey first.

Jake: Thanks for the update. Just do what you have to do to get them out the door, then check the cameras to make sure he’s really gone. I knew that guy in a past life. Not good people. I have to get home to Cory, but call if you need me.

His response comes through a moment later.

Dem: Got it, boss.

I flip my phone a few times and consider my options. I’m fucking terrified to slink back to my husband with my tail between my legs after the way I just acted. I could text him, or I could call. But both those options seem like cop-outs, given the enormity of what I still need to confess.

Fuck it. I can be back to the condo in less time than it’s going to take to sit here and figure out my next move. I just need to see him—talk to him face to face. Once we’re together, it’ll be okay. When I’m in his arms, I can do anything.