Page 116 of Too Far

We’re so close. So fucking close. Why can’t he let me in?

“I’m so sorry, baby. I thought I could save you,” he sobs. “I thought I could push you away and stay away. But all I did—all I’ve ever done—is hurt you.”

He’s spiraling. He’s unraveling in front of me, and yet I can’t reach him.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” I urge. “We can go back, Decker. We can figure this out.”

He didn’t give me a chance the morning he broke us. He didn’t give me even a minute to collect my thoughts or catch my breath.

I would have fought for us. I would have committed to finding a way forward, even if it hurt. Even if it was hard. Even if it required sacrifice.

He never gave me a chance.

He never gaveusa chance.

“Decker.” I pull on the handle, determined to get through to him, but the door doesn’t budge. His weight holds the glass in place. “Decker. Let me in.”

“I can’t,” he cries.

“You can!” My heart hammers against my ribs as heat creeps up my chest and neck. “Decker, open the door. We can figure this out. Just give us a chance.”

“No,” he barks. The word echoes off the tiles. “We fucking can’t, and now I’m hurting you more. It’s killing me. It’s killing me to put you through this, and yet I can’t stop. I’m a fucking masochist when it comes to you, Josephine.” He shudders. “I’m not strong enough to do what I know has to be done. You were right to deny me. Don’t give me any more of your minutes, Siren. Promise me you’ll stay away. Youhaveto stay away.”

The glass rattles as he pulls back, removing his hand and his head and all hope in one fell swoop.

A second passes. Then another.

Tears fall in rapid succession as I sense the emotionless mask he wears for the world slipping back into place.

His tone is sharp when he speaks again.

“There’s nothing left between us. There can’t be. There won’t be, ever again.”

His words land like a physical blow. My stomach bottoms out, and all the air escapes my lungs. He’s so determined to push me away.

I press my forehead harder against the glass as the tears fall faster, dripping straight to the floor now.

They aren’t tears of sadness, though. I’m sad, of course, but my heartache will keep.

These are tears of frustration. Anger. Tears of outrage and devastation.

Because it doesn’t have to be like this. There’salwaysanother way. Yet he’s so fixated on protecting me that he can’t see past his own bullheadedness to consider alternatives.

The world we live in isn’t black and white. There’s always another option, a new idea, an alternative. If only he’d let us try.

I’m willing to try. I’d put in the work. I could learn to deal with the media, agree to more security, spend a lifetime learning to accept that he’s a public figure.

If only he’d let us fucking try.

This realization hits so hard it’s almost enough to knock me off my feet.

He’s already given up on us. He’s not even willing to try.

“You’re a coward,” I whisper, the words raw as they scrape out of me. “You’re a coward, and I wish I could hate you. But I can’t. I can’t hate you, Decker. I’llneverhate you the way you want me to. I can’t even stay mad at you the way you deserve. I know you too well. I know you’re doing this to protect me. And I know you’re destroying yourself to do it.”

I wait, letting my words fill the space between us, holding on to one final glimmer of hope that my words, who I am, what I have to offer, will be enough to break through.

It’s not.