Epoch (Transcend Duet #2)(15)

“How abusive my boyfriend is to me.” Regret backhands me so fast it feels like I just hit a car head on. And the deafening silence that falls between us confirms the fatalities.

I can’t look at him another second. The pain in his eyes makes it impossible to breathe. Griffin would never hurt me. Ever. It was a poorly delivered joke laced with more revenge than sarcasm.

This toxic thing called fear keeps driving a wedge between us. I keep driving a wedge between us. The harder I try to hold onto him, the further away he slips.

Daisy is not a gift. She’s a fucking curse.

Griffin turns and opens the door.

“No!” I bolt after him, shoving the door shut again, grabbing his shirt and tugging at it until he looks at me. “It was a joke. A terrible, morbid, ill-timed joke. I’m sorry. I’m scared. I’m desperate. I’m …”

My heart can’t keep up with my emotions. It’s a pulsing siren in my chest, warning me to shut up. And it hurts so much more than the playful bite of his hand on my ass.

He’s a concrete wall, no matter how much I try to shake him.

“She’s inside of me.”

Now he gives me his full attention.

“Or…” I shake my head, pinching my eyes shut “…I’m her. But I don’t think I totally am. I can’t figure it out. And I can’t let it go because these memories stay with me no matter where I go. They’re in my head, and as time passes, they only get stronger and more vivid. It’s not just Nate. He may have been some trigger for this, but she’s there, Griff. She won’t go away.”

He blinks.

I wait.

Another blink.

I’m dying here.

It’s like a young child telling her parents there is an alien in the closet that only she can see. But she’s not crazy. It’s really there, even if there is no proof of aliens.

“You need a different job,” he says. It’s flat and matter-of-fact.

I don’t want him to be angry with me, but I’d feel better if his words were infused with some sort of emotion.

“I can’t quit my job.”

“You can.” He bites his lips together, eyes wide, and head cocked to the side as if he’s daring me to argue with him.

“Let’s go. I’m the guest of honor, not that I deserve to have a special birthday. We both know I’m the worst human that ever lived. In fact, we can say our goodbyes and go home. You can drop me off at the curb as you back out of the driveway. Whatever.” I grab the doorknob, but Griffin doesn’t budge from the door.

His gaze bores a hole into my head, but I refuse to look at him.

“Hitler was worse,” he says.

It’s funny. But it’s not.

It’s heartbreaking. But it shouldn’t be.

“Don’t be insecure. That’s not the woman I met in the grocery store.”

I nod slowly, not really agreeing to anything other than the universe whispering, “You’re screwed.”

Insecure. Ha! I’m not sure it’s fair to expect me to be anything but insecure. There’s a whole other world—a whole other time—in my head. It’s like taking someone halfway around the world and dropping them off in a desert without food or water and bidding them farewell with a “Bye. Don’t be insecure.”

Nothing makes a person feel more insecure than the unknown. This isn’t mind over matter. I can’t run around with my fingers in my ears, yelling “La la la … I can’t hear you, Daisy.” But I’ll save that argument for another day.

“I’ll do my best to be who you want me to be.”

“You’re making me feel like a dick.” He frowns.

I shrug, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “Well, you’re big, sometimes overbearing, and completely unbendable when you get worked up. I think that’s a dictionary definition of a dick. Now … are you done ruining my birthday? Are we even since I’m a step away from Hitler and no longer the woman from the grocery store? Which is funny because I don’t know how I led you to believe I was anything short of a disaster that day.”

Griffin scrapes his teeth over the corner of his lower lip, inspecting me through squinted eyes. “Do you want to marry me?”

It’s hard to catch my breath under the weight of his words. A chill slithers to my core as I gaze at him unblinkingly. “How can you ask me that?”

He lifts his hands up and lets them fall to his sides, releasing a heavy sigh.

Why doesn’t he answer me? Is the lump in his throat as thick as the one swelling in mine? Or does he have nothing to say?

“Move.” My pulse stutters like my voice, choking on hurt and anger.

His head turns away from me with a slack expression and vacant eyes. After a few long seconds, he steps aside. My shaky hand fumbles with the doorknob before it opens. I race halfway down the stairs and stop. Biting my quivering lips together, I bend over to catch my breath and swallow back the sob that wants to escape.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“Pull it together,” I whisper to myself. Taking a deep breath, I blink a few times to gather some composure.

“Your ice cream has melted.” Sophie hands me my bowl of cake and melted ice cream.”

“I don’t mind.” I force a smile. It feels like a believable one, but my mom’s pursed lips and raised brows tell me I’m not selling it as well as I think I am.