Unseen Messages(85)

I backed up. The one metre returned to two. “We can’t.”

“Can’t?” He glowered. “Can’t or won’t?”

“We can’t.” I hung my head. “You’ve been honest with me, so I’ll be honest with you. I want you. You know that. The thought of giving you everything that I am terrifies me, but I’d happily trade my stories for yours. I want your hands on my skin, your tongue in my mouth, and your body—”

He groaned, “Then do it. You have me.” His hand stretched out, his fingers imploring me to take them. “Please...come here.”

Looking at the sand, my voice slipped into sadness. “But none of that matters. I dream about having you, but that’s all it can ever be. A dream.”

“What?” His face contorted with rage. “Why the hell can’t it be a reality if you want me as much as I want you?”

Raising my eyes, I couldn’t believe how much I missed the modern world. How much I would’ve given to have a pharmacy close by or a doctor for prescriptions. But he didn’t get it.

Orgasms meant combined pleasure.

Cum meant combined DNA.

Sex meant combined genetics.

I could get pregnant.

I might give birth on an island with no help.

I could die delivering, or worse, whatever infant we created could perish.

There were no safeguards. No fail safes. Eventually, no matter how careful we were...we’d slip and suffer the consequences.

I wanted children...eventually.

But not here. Not like this.

Not when we’re so unprepared.

Sex had gone from the most tantalizing promise to the most abhorrent curse.

Tears trickled down my cheeks. “Let it go, Galloway. My answer is no. And it’s final. I’ll be your friend. But that’s all I can offer you.”

I couldn’t stay for the repercussions.

Clutching my notebook, I ran.

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I didn’t run to my hidden patch of bamboo. I didn’t run to the beach to write by moonlight. I swam with guilt, overrun by emotions that wouldn’t stay imprisoned in mere words. Instead, I bolted into the woods, into the green maze that could give us so much more than what we let it.

With tears running down my cheeks, I found the bush I’d marked XI.

I looked over my shoulder.

I cursed myself for denying what I wanted, refusing Galloway, running away from whatever happiness we might’ve had—all because I was too afraid.

I was weak. I wasn’t worthy.

I had to make up for what I’d done.

And this was the only way I could think of.

With shaking hands, I tore off a leaf and stuffed it into my mouth. I should’ve taken the tiniest of bites. Let my system solve the question if it was edible.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t give him my heart, but I could keep him alive.

I couldn’t sleep with him, but I could give him something to eat.

I disobeyed his commands not to be reckless. I willingly went behind his back because I had no choice.

I’d just broken something good between us.

The least I could do was try to fix it.

I chewed the leaf and swallowed.

The bitter taste lingered on my tongue, warning me I wasn’t used to the flavour.

My body wasn’t savvy on the nutritional value of such a thing.

It could backfire. It could be painful. It could hurt.

It doesn’t matter.

Tearing off another, I ate quickly.

I ate another.

And then three more, ensuring my system had no choice but to accept the foreign food or expel it.

Either way—be it sickness or good health—I’d done what I could to make up for the worst decision of my life.

I’d said no to Galloway. No to him looking after me. No to hugs and kisses and love.

I’d walked away from him and eaten what he’d told me not to.

He would hate me now.

And I’d live with the consequences.

Alone.





Chapter Thirty


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G A L L O W A Y

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WHAT THE HELL?

What the ever living goddamn hell?

I let her go.

I’d fought for her. I’d asked her to reconsider. And she’d shot me down. I wouldn’t chase after her like a damn Labrador. I’d tried to win her and failed. That was as far as I was willing to go in terms of handing over my balls to a woman who was so damn contrary she didn’t know what she wanted.

She wanted me as a friend?

Fine.

I’d be her friend. I’d be her acquaintance. I’d be nice when spoken to. I’d be courteous when dealt with. But besides that, forget it.

I’d had some stupid notion that Estelle would accept me. That she’d ignore my mistakes and flaws because of who she saw inside. I’d hoped I could finally find peace knowing whoever I’d been before no longer mattered because Estelle made me better.

But I was wrong.

She knew.

She could tell.

She’d guessed I was no good. Someone not to fall for. Definitely not someone to get physical with.

She’d seen I was bad news. And I couldn’t bloody blame her for running.