Fueled (Driven, #2)(101)

His fingertips are so close to my arm that it takes everything I have to not lean into his touch. Visually shunned from touching me, he shoves his hands in his pockets to ward off the early morning chill. Or perhaps mine.

I know I’m hurt and I’m confused and I hate him right now, but I still love him. I can’t deny that. I can fight it, but I can’t deny it. I love him even though he won’t let me. I love him even through the hurt he’s inflicted. The floodgates I’ve been trying to hold back burst and tears spill over and down my cheeks. I stare at him through blurred vision until I’m able to find my voice again despite the despair. “You said you’d try...” It's all I can manage to say, and even then my voice breaks with each word.

His eyes plead with mine and in them I can see the shame. For what, I can only imagine. He sighs, his shoulders sagging and his body defeated. “I am trying. I...” His words falter off as he removes his hands from his pocket and something falls out of one. The scrap of paper flickers to the ground in slow motion, the sun catching its reflective silver packaging. It takes my mind a moment to process what has landed at my feet—and not because I don’t understand, but rather because I am hoping against hope that I’m wrong. I stare at the emblazoned Trojan emblem on the torn package, synapses slow to fire.

“No, no, no—” Colton repeats in shock.

“You’re trying?” I shout at him, my voice rising as anger blazes. “When I meant try, Ace, I didn’t mean try to stick your dick in the next available candidate the first time you got scared!” I’m yelling now, not caring who hears. I can sense Colton’s rising panic—his uncertainty of how to have to actually deal with the fallout of his actions for once—and the notion that he’s never had to before…that no one else has ever called him on it, made him accountable, feeds my anger even further.

“That’s not what I―I swear that’s not from last night.”

“Quack!” I shout at him, wanting to grab him and hold him and never let him go and at the same time wanting to hit him and push him and show him how much he’s hurt me. I’m on a f*cking roller coaster, and I just want to jump off. Stop the ride. Why am I still here? Why am I even fighting for something he so obviously doesn’t want? Doesn’t deserve from me?

He runs his hands through his hair in exasperation, face pale, eyes panicked. “Rylee. Please. Let’s just take a pit stop.”

“A f*cking pit stop?” I shout at him, my voice escalating, pissed that he’s patronizing me right now. A pit stop? More like an engine rebuild. “Did you not believe in us enough?” I ask, trying to understand through the hurt. “You told me the other night that Tawny had a tenth of the sex appeal I had? Guess you chose to go slumming, huh?” I know I’m being overdramatic but my chest hurts with each breath that I take, and frankly I’m beyond caring at this point. I’m hurt—devastated—and I want him to hurt like I do. “Did you not believe enough in me that you had to run to someone else? Fuck someone else?” His silence is the only answer that I need to know the truth.

When I finally have the courage to look up and meet his eyes, I think he sees the resignation in mine, which in turn causes panic to flicker through his. He holds my gaze, emerald to amethyst, a volume of emotions passing between us―regret the biggest of all. He reaches out to wipe a tear from my cheek, and I flinch at his touch. I know that if he touches me now, I will dissolve into an incoherent mess. My chin trembles as I turn to go.

“I told you I’d hurt you,” he whispers behind me.

I stop in all two steps of my walk away from him. So much for distance, but his words infuriate me. I know if I walk away without saying this, it’ll be something I will forever regret. I whirl back around to face him. “Yeah! You did! But just because you warned me doesn’t mean that it’s okay!” I shout at him, sarcasm dripping with anger. “Suck it up, Donavan! We both have baggage. We both have issues we have to overcome. Everyone does!” I seethe. “Turning to someone else…f*cking someone else, is unacceptable to me. Something I won’t tolerate.”

Colton sucks in his breath as my words hit him like punches. I can see the torment on his face and a part of me is relieved to know that he is hurting–maybe not as much as I am–but at least I know what I thought we were wasn’t all a lie. “You can’t possibly love me, Rylee,” he says quietly resigned, his eyes on mine.

“Well you sure tried to make sure of that, didn’t you?” I say with a wavering voice. “Did you sleep with her, Colton?” My eyes beseech his, finally asking the question I’m not sure I want answered. “Was f*cking her worth losing me?”

“Does it matter?” he snips back, emotions warring over his face as he goes on the defensive. “You’re going to think what you want to think anyway, Rylee.”

“Don’t turn this on me, Colton!” I scream at him. “I’m not the one who f*cked this up!”

He stares at me for a few moments before he responds, his eyes accusing, and when he does, his voice is an icy barb. “Didn’t you though?”

His words are a stinging slap to my face. Callous Colton has resurfaced. Tears re-emerge and run down my cheeks. I can’t stand here anymore and deal with my pain.

Something behind him catches my eye, and I glance over to see that Tawny has opened the door. She is leaning against its frame, watching our exchange with amused curiosity. The sight of her there gives me the strength I need to walk away.