Page 61 of Things I Wish I Said

I step forward, wanting to pull her into my arms, but the anger in her gaze warns me off.

Instead, I fist my hands at my side, itching to touch her.

“And, yeah, after my father died, I put some walls up. It was a hell of a lot easier to push everyone away, to numb myself, instead of feeling and fearing another loss, but then I met you. And, damn it, I fell for you, Sinclair. So hard. Every part of you. Not just your past, but your present. The you right now. The woman. Not just the soccer player, but all your parts. Your bravery and strength. Your snark and kindness. Your enthusiasm and fierce determination. You’re fucking beautiful, Ry, inside and out, and I’m so twisted up for you.

” My throat bobs, my nerves fried as I whisper, “I love you.”

Her lips thin. “You shouldn’t.”

Her words twist in my side like a knife.

“But I do.”

“All I’ll do is bring you down.”

“You’re my future, Ry.” I step closer, only for her to take one step back.

“I don’t have a future,” she says, her tone flat.

“Don’t say that. We talked about—”

“This opened my eyes. There’s no point in doing the trial.”

The knife twists deeper, the pain behind my ribs strong enough to make me double over. “No. You said you wanted a future with me. You agreed—”

“I know what I said.” Her eyes meet mine, strangely devoid of emotion. “And I lied. I got laid, had fun. It’s all I wanted.”

I swallow, finding it hard to breathe. “You’re pushing me away.

I know that’s what you’re doing. You think your mother’s better off with you gone, just like you think you’ll drag me down.

But you won’t, Ry. You don’t get to choose who I love.

It’s not a switch I can flip off. You once asked me if I loved Rachel, and do you remember what I said? ”

“Grayson, don’t.”

“I said I never felt like the air was sucked from the room when she looked at me. I never needed her just to fucking breathe. But I need you, Sinclair.” I nod, knowing deep in my bones its true.

“Any time you enter the room, it steals the air right from my lungs, and when you look at me, I get tunnel vision. All I can see is you, because you made my heart beat again. You taught me to feel something other than pain. You’re the oxygen in the room.

The blood in my veins and the air in my lungs.

If I don’t have you, nothing will be the same again.

Nothing. So don’t tell me you’re not just running scared. ”

“I’m not running. That’s not what this is.” Ry shakes her head, glancing away, the muscle in her jaw twitching.

“No? Then what is it about? Because I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t love you, Grayson.”

Her words hit me like a wrecking ball, crashing through me. I stumble back, stunned, my heart a staccato in my chest. “You don’t mean that. ”

Her eyes meet mine once more, and the ice in her gaze stings. “That’s the thing. I actually do.”

I try to wrap my head around everything she just said and what went wrong, but I can’t.

I know she’s hurting.

She’s humiliated and disappointed and scared.

She’s afraid of dying. Afraid the trial won’t work. Afraid it will.

Scared to plan a future she may or may not have.

But I don’t know how to get through to her.

Don’t know how to break through her walls, and it scares me more than anything.

More than my father dying or losing baseball.

Because the one thing I feared the most is coming to fruition.

I can feel her slipping between my fingers, and she’s not even gone yet. She’s standing right in front of me.

“Remember that first day we met? You said you didn’t believe in happy endings.”

Don’t say it.

“Well, you were right, and I was a damn fool to consider, for even a moment, I might be lucky enough to have one.”

I take one step forward, arms outstretched, only for Ry to take another one back. “Sinclair, don’t do this.”

She shakes her head. “Just go.”

The air whooshes from my lungs. The familiar prick of fear returns, creeping beneath the surface of my skin, knowing I’m at a loss—helpless. Once Ryleigh sets her mind to something, she doesn’t stop until she gets what she wants .

And she wants me gone.

I turn, reaching into my suitcase where I pull out the paper flower, I spent an hour working on during her interview—the one I carefully folded and created from the last pages of her novel and I reach out, placing it on the bed in front of her.

"Everyone gets to decide their own ending, Ry.

And sometimes endings are what you make of them. You're still writing yours."

I have no idea how long or far I walk. All I know is by the time I return to the hotel, my feet are tired and my head is a mess.

The miles I walked did little to ease the impact of Ryleigh’s words and the wounds they caused. I know she’s just going through a gamut of emotions right now. Embarrassment, fear, disappointment. Just like I know nothing she said was personal, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

I know Sinclair loves me. I don’t need her to say it to know it’s true. I wouldn’t have slept with her if I thought we weren’t on the same page, but hearing her deny it gutted me.

Sweat slicks my back, my shirt clinging to my skin. I sling my suit jacket over one shoulder, the top buttons of my shirt undone. I push through the heavy glass doors into the lobby, then take the elevator to the second floor.

I swipe my key card and brace myself, unsure of what to expect when I step inside.

The lock clicks, and I hold my breath .

It’s quiet, save for the gentle whir of the air conditioner. Stale air fills my nose as I walk deeper into the room, surveying my surroundings.

Nothing.

There’s no sign of Ryleigh, and the room looks freshly cleaned. Empty. Vacant.

My gaze quickly sweeps the room to find all her stuff missing, my suitcase the only sign anyone is even staying here.

A cold wind whips through me, chilling the blood in my veins.

I spin around, my heart thrumming like a hummingbird as I check the living space and still turn up nothing—no sign of her—the only remnant of proof she was ever here is a folded piece of paper on the coffee table in her handwriting.

I swallow and pick it up, reading the few simple words with my heart in my throat.

I’m sorry. I thought I could do this, but I can’t.

Please don’t come after me.

-x

Sinclair