Crashed (Driven, #3)(58)

“Colton …” It’s all I can manage, feeling like I’ve been knocked back a few steps by his sudden assertion, his sudden need to grab his life that he feels is spiraling out of control. But he doesn’t get it. It’s not just his life anymore. It’s my life too! This is about the man I love and the possibilities I feel. This is killing me just as much as it is him, but he’s too wrapped up in his own head to see differently. I force a swallow as I try to find the words to tell him this, to show him we’re both hurting, not just him. But I’m too slow. He beats me to the punch.

“You tell me we’re in a relationship, Rylee … Are you sure it’s what you want because this is how my life goes,” he shouts, his body moving restlessly with all of his negative energy. “The charmed life of Colton f*ckin’ Donavan. For every up there’s a motherf*cking free fall down. For every good there’s a goddamn bad.” He takes a step toward me, trying to antagonize me and push my buttons. I dig my nails in my palms to remind myself to let him get it off of his chest. To let him blame everyone in the world if need be, so he can calm down, realize this is not the end of his world, despite it feeling like it is for me. “Are you ready for that kind of spin on the track of my life?” He finishes, the sarcasm dripping from his words as he steps within a few feet of me. I can feel the anger vibrate off of him, can sense his desperation at which straw to grab and hold onto to get me to react. I force a swallow and shake my head.

“Okay,” I say, drawing the word out, buying time as I try to think of what to say. “What is the good and the bad then?”

“The good?” he asks, his eyes widening as sweat drips down his torso. “The good is I’m alive, Rylee. I’m f*cking alive!” He shouts, thumping his chest with his fist. I cringe as his voice rings in my ears. He mistakes my reaction and feeds off of it. “What? Did you think I was actually going to say you?” I tell myself not to cry, tell myself that’s not the answer I was hoping for, but who am I kidding? Did I really think that in the midst of all of this he’d hold onto me as his strength? His reason? I can hope, but for a man so used to relying on himself, I shouldn’t be surprised.

“You think you can waltz in here and play house, nurse me back to health, and all my troubles—all my f*cking demons—are going to disappear? I guess Tawny just proved that theory wrong, huh?” He laughs a patronizing chuckle that eats tiny holes in what resolve I still have left. “The perfect f*cking world you think exists, sure as f*ck doesn’t. You can’t make lemonade with a lemon that’s rotting from the inside out.”

And I’m not sure which hurts more, the acid eating at my stomach, his anger hitting my ears, or the ache squeezing my heart. The aftershock left by Tawny turns into a full-blown earthquake of disbelief and pain as my thoughts spin out of control and slam headfirst into the wall just like Colton did. But this time the collateral damage is too much to handle as it all comes crashing down around me. My stomach heaves again as I try to grasp on to something, anything, to give me an iota of hope.

I need air.

I can’t breathe.

I need to get away from all of this.

I take a few steps backwards, needing to escape, and stumble against the railing. I fight the need to throw up again, my hands squeezing the wood beneath my fingers as I try to steady myself.

“You don’t get to run anymore, Rylee, we’re in a relationship. Aren’t those your rules?” His mocking voice is closer than I expect and something about the way he says them, the intimacy laced with sarcasm, sets me off.

I whirl around. “I’m not running, Colton! I’m hurting! Fucking falling apart because I don’t know what to say or how to respond to you!” I scream. “I’m f*cking pissed that I’m angry at you for being so goddamn callous because you’re right! I would give anything to have a baby. Anything! But I can’t and the thought that someone can give you the one f*cking thing that I can’t is tearing me apart.”

I bring my hands up to my head and just hold them there for a moment as I try to stop crying, as I try to collect the thoughts I need to say. I lift my head and meet his eyes again. “But you know what? Even if I could, I would never use or manipulate you to get one. I am not f*cking Tawny, and I am not the poor excuse of life your mother was.” Tears stream down my face and I look at him, standing there stunned by my outburst through my blurred vision.

He starts to say something, and I raise a hand to stop him, needing to finish what I have to say. “No, Colton, I’m not running and I’m not leaving you, but I don’t know what to do. I have no f*cking clue! Do I stay here and let you rip me apart more? I’m dying inside, Colton. Can’t you see that?” I wipe the tears from my eyes and shake my head, needing some kind of reaction from him. “Or do I just leave? Give us a couple of days to fix the shit that’s f*cked up in our own heads? So I don’t resent you for getting a choice when I don’t. So you realize I’m not like every other woman who’s ever used you.”

I take a step toward him, the man I love, and I wish I could do something—anything—to ease the turmoil inside of him, but know that I can’t. I can sense he’s at a breaking point just like I am, that being faced with the possibility of a child is more than even he—a man who has survived so much—can bear, but I’m at a loss how to help when I’m filled with turmoil too.