Crazy Girl(78)

I’d hurt him. I knew this. But I wasn’t sure if my offense warranted his reaction…at least not this extreme of one. It occurred to me that maybe in part, I’d touched on something, hit a nerve or discovered a painful memory from his past, and perhaps I was on the receiving end of anger that had been pent-up and bottled deep inside. I wasn’t going to question him on it though. At the time, all I cared about was that I had hurt him, and he was pushing me away. Pride stood at my side, like that friend you know always has your back, the one that saw you about to engage in a fight and they’re right behind you, rolling their neck and bouncing, ready to jump in and battle with you. But I pushed it back.

My pride didn’t like that.

I was a Bircham after all.

“I’m not leaving.” I planted my feet firmly.

“I don’t play games, Hannah,” he gritted. I stepped closer toward him. He stepped back, his hands still slid inside his pants pockets. My heart sank. He didn’t want to be near me. “When I cut someone off, it’s done. There’s no going back. Do you understand?”

He’d cut me off? My mind raced so fast I couldn’t understand myself. I had to get ahold of myself. I studied his face; his gaze. It was emotional manipulation…he was threatening to never speak to me again, pretend we were strangers. He was wielding it like a weapon. I didn’t like that for several reasons. Somehow it broke my heart and angered me, all at once. I was here, pleading, trying to fix this thing between us, and this was what he said to me? I realized then that he hadn’t seen all the parts of me—only the ones I’d shown him. He saw a softness. He saw me vulnerable. He saw me at my worst. But he hadn’t seen what I was made of. He hadn’t seen that behind the romantic woman with starry eyes and a wounded soul that dreamed of love, I was a goddamned warrior. I was fierce. I was stronger than all the heartache I had and would experience in my life.

He was going to cut me off?

I stuck my chest out, refusing to let him break me. “So that’s it? You’ll never speak to me again?”

He shook his head and pivoted away from me. “I can’t set myself up for this, Hannah. You don’t know who you are, or what you want. I don’t need this bullshit in my life. I’ve lost enough people I cared about.”

And there it was. My pride melted away, not even contesting its departure. Even it knew I had been a giant asshole. Wren had always been a riddle to me. I had felt a deepness in him that wasn’t visible to the rest of the world. To everyone else he was hard and in control. But I had seen the softness under his hard shell. He didn’t like to lose people because he’d already lost so many. He’d opened himself up to caring for me and actually being with me, and I’d turned a cheek to him in an attempt to avoid my own problems; in an attempt to pretend I didn’t feel about him the way I did.

“I’m sorry, Wren. I am. Please. Don’t do this.”

Lifting his chin, giving me the perfect view of the flawlessly cut lines of his face and well-kept beard, he didn’t look at me. “You didn’t push me away because of me, because of something I did wrong. You pushed me away because you don’t trust me or the feelings you have for me.” I dropped my head in shame. He knew. “Look at me. Engage, damn it.” Narrowing my eyes, I snapped my head up and stared at him. He twisted his neck and fixed his dark eyes on mine. “You wanna stay in your fucked up little world, where you hide out in an empty house and have nothing, go ahead. Protect it all you want. But let’s be real, Hannah. You’re a coward. Plain and simple.”

His words snapped out at me, lashing me like a whip. Even being called crazy by him so many times hadn’t been as insulting as him calling me a coward.

“You’re scared of yourself. You’re scared of men. You’re scared of your reality. You’re scared to move, Hannah,” He raised his fisted hands and shook them. “Like, really move in your life.”

I was speechless. His tone was scornful and his words were meant to cut. The man was a specimen of sharp steel in most ways, slicing through life, and his tongue was no exception. He chose to show me affection, and I’d rejected it. I got that. Still, it burned. I knew Wren wasn’t all soft. I knew he could be brutal when he wanted to, but it still shocked me seeing it then. Hearing him say those things to me.

“Go, Hannah,” he uttered dismissively, already walking toward his garage. Panic set in. He wasn’t listening to me. He wasn’t letting me apologize. I was sorry. I was. He had to believe that. I thought I could handle whatever he threw at me. I was wrong. So fucking wrong.

My insides twisted as he neared the bay door. His ascent into the house felt ominous—like once he crossed the threshold we were done, and there was no going back. What could I do? Cry? Beg? Crawl on my knees? I needed him. I couldn’t finish my book without him. I hated my thoughts went there as a first reaction. But it was so much more than that. I loved him. I didn’t want to, and I hadn’t meant to, but it was there, burning inside of me. It couldn’t end this way. I wouldn’t let it. I’d make him listen. I’d make him hear how sorry I was. I just needed to get his attention, and I knew with every fiber of my being it would take something drastic to turn that mountain of a man around. I knew it.

Glancing to my right, I spotted a loose piece of cement from the driveway about the size of a golf ball. I’d played softball as a kid, and it had been a while, but I bet myself I could hit him with it. He’d turn around after that. Hitting him with a rock was extreme—insane really, considering the man could dismantle me with little effort probably—but it was a chance I’d have to take. I’d officially lost my mind. I was about to bend and pick it up when my eye caught on something else.