Beloved (Toni Morrison Trilogy #1)(76)



“I know you’re fighting me because you’re afraid. You think I’m like every other man. Have I hurt you? Have I lied to you?”

“Not yet!” I cry out.

Jackson takes a step closer. His breathing is heavy but he’s trying to keep his tone soft. “You’ve already sentenced me for someone else’s crime.”

I weep into my hands because he’s right. “You can’t expect me to process all of what happened today with you here. My feelings for you … they scare me. You make me feel too much! Every time you’re around or you touch me, I lose something inside,” I say earnestly.

“You think it’s any different for me? I fought against this! Every time you walked in the room, I fought the urge to take you. If you think you’re the only one who loses, you’re wrong.” His voice grows warm and seductive. “Somehow, at every turn, you’ve made me feel more than I’ve wanted to.”

He closes the distance and I’m unable to fight him anymore. I allow his arms to hold me one last time. After this, I won’t let him back in.

“Please,” I cry into his chest as he clutches me to him. “Please, if you care, let me have time to think.”

His arms fall from my back and he slowly moves to hold my face, tilting it so we’re staring into each other’s eyes. Jackson’s expression is pained, but his eyes express so much more. “Fine. You win. I’ll go.” His eyes close as though the words are bitter in his mouth. When they open again he looks fierce and determined. “But hear me. You’re it for me, Catherine.” His thumb brushes a tear from my cheek. “I’m not walking away from you or us. I wasn’t ready to love again when you came crashing into me. But you made me want to try again.” Our lips touch briefly. When he looks back up, his eyes are intense. “Leaving you right now goes against every f*cking thing I want. I’m going to let you push me away this once. But I mean it, when I walk out it’s up to you when I come back. Don’t make me wait too long.” He leans down and places a long, tender kiss upon my lips. Our eyes meet again and he waits for a second before continuing, “I told you I’ll always find you, but you have to want to be found. Let me find you, Catherine.”

Without another word, his hands disappear. I want to beg him to stay, but I need him to go. It’s as though someone is sawing me in half. I’m fighting against the pull, but I honestly don’t know what I want anymore. He opens the door and hesitates, turning back to give me a sad smile before walking out.

When the door closes, I fall to the ground and let out a strangled sob. What have I done? Why does this always have to be so hard?

You’re it for me, Catherine. His words repeat in my head.

I crawl to the couch and curl up, letting the tears come, hoping they’ll wash away the pain. He asked me not to push and I basically shoved him. I fight the urge to run after him, to beg him to stay and hold me. Hoping I made the right choice, I curl into myself and rock back and forth.

What if I’m the reason they leave?

Maybe you should stop pushing them out, then.

If I truly pushed them all away, what does that say about me?

You’ve already sentenced me for someone else’s crime.

Have I?

I lie here, soaking the cushion as I let out twenty years’ worth of devastation. I cry until my tears have dried, but the hollow feeling in my chest has grown. I’m truly alone. There’s no one here. What I wouldn’t give to go back a few hours and skip ever going to the lawyer’s. I would’ve waited for Ashton to go, or I’d go back even further to when I first met Jackson and not give in to him. Then I could live my life and not have to suffer all over again. If I thought the pain of losing Neil was bad, it’s not even a tenth of what I’m feeling right now. Jackson took pieces of my heart with every kiss, every gesture, every smile, and I’ll never get them back. Though, as I sit here and replay everything that’s happened, I wonder if maybe that’s not true. Yes, he claimed those pieces, but not to keep. He used those moments to put my heart back together. And then I made him leave.

I need to find my phone. I need Ashton. As I grab for my purse, it tips over and all the contents fly out. Why not? At this point I’m not surprised the hell won’t end. I reach for my phone and see my father’s letter on the floor. Every bone in my body freezes and my heart plummets into my stomach. Am I ready to read this? I reach for the letter and hold it in my hands. It’s now or never.

Sitting on the floor, my finger slides under the lip and I gently tear the envelope open. I hesitate for a moment. Once I read this I can’t unread it. My eyes water again but I stifle the tears. I’m tired of crying. Tired of feeling weak and not in control of my life. My heart is racing and the tightness in my chest is making me dizzy. I say a silent prayer as my fingers gently tug out the letter. Slowly, I open it and begin to read my father’s last words to me.

My Dearest Catherine,

I’m sorry you’re reading this letter and not hearing the words from me. It means that I was never brave enough to come find you. I’m a coward. I want to try to explain, and I hope that someday you’ll forgive me. You see, I loved your mother very much, but we couldn’t make it work. You were never to blame. Ever. Not one single thing that ever happened between us was your fault. I’m sorry for hurting you. I know my absence must’ve caused you a lot of pain, and for that I’ll have died bearing that burden on my shoulders. I thought about you every single day since I walked out that door. I wondered about you, hoping you grew to become a beautiful woman, never doubting you did.

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