“Candace, please,” I beg. I can’t f**kin’ do this. I can’t not have her in my life.
“Just go.”
I see it. She means what she’s saying, but I can’t move. I don’t how I’m gonna turn and walk away from her. So I stand here, a broken man, in front of the only girl I’ve ever given my heart to and I cry.
“Please, you have to go. I can’t do this,” she pleads.
“You have to know how much I love you.”
Closing her eyes, she whispers, “Please, Ryan.”
I wait for her to open her eyes, but she doesn’t. I’m always gonna want her, but reality hits me like a brick.
It’s over.
I’ve never felt pain like this before. It’s one thing to get the shit beat out of you by a man you don’t even like, but it’s another thing entirely when the person you love the most in this world doesn’t even want to look at you. I’d go back and take a thousand more beatings just to have her open her eyes and look at me.
But she doesn’t, and I can’t bear the agony, so I take one last look and absorb everything I can before I turn away from everything I never wanted to. She gave it all to me, and now I leave it behind as I walk out of her house.
The finality of what just happened starts to sink in as I drive home. How is this over? Ending faster than it began. I’m not sure what else I could have said to save what we had. I would’ve kept her forever if she would’ve let me. But it’s done, and I’m not sure where I go from here. In my head I’ve been thinking that I was going to give it all up for her. Move to wherever she was going. Maybe I was just in too deep.
There’s a black van parked in front of my place when I get home, and as I’m getting out of my car, I see a guy opening the back doors and pulling out a large, wrapped item.
Walking toward him, he asks, “Mr. Campbell?”
“Yeah. What’s this?”
“I have a delivery from Thinkspace Art Gallery for you.”
Her photo.
“Would you like me to carry it up?”
“No,” I tell him as I reach out to take the piece, which is covered in a brown paper wrap.
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’ve got it. Thanks.”
Before getting into his van, he turns and says, “It’s a beautiful piece, sir. Enjoy.”
I watch as he drives away, but I don’t think I could ever look at this photo—her photo. How could I enjoy something that has been torn to shreds because of me? Carrying the canvas upstairs, I lean it against the wall as I go to the kitchen to get a beer. Popping the cap, I turn and rest my back on the counter and look at it, just sitting there—masking away my happiness, knowing that she’s underneath the paper. But being the masochist that I am, I need to see her. I set the bottle down and rip the paper off, revealing the white line of her back.
As I step away, I keep my eyes on her. Her smooth skin. Nothing ever felt better on me, and the thought of never having that comfort again makes seeing her painful. It’s tearing out my f**kin’ heart, and I need it gone.
Picking it up, I take it upstairs to my bedroom and into my closet where I shove it behind one of the racks of clothes. I hide it because I don’t want to look at it, but I don’t want to let it go either.
The memories of that day start to run through my head. That rainy afternoon with her in my bed. She was jittery, lying in the dark while I snapped her picture. She trusted me. But now that trust is gone, and she can’t even look at me. I just want to touch her. Have her lips on mine, her body warm against me. She was so good at everything she was willing to give. I took it all, and no amount of pain could make me believe that it wasn’t worth the fall because falling in love with her was the best thing I ever did.
Chapter Forty-one
Sitting here, nursing my beer that has now grown warm, I watch as Gavin talks to some blonde who’s wearing way too much makeup. I want to leave, but I don’t want to go back home. Home and work, those are the only places I seem to find myself lately. But that’s all it was before Candace, so why should I expect it to be any different after her? It feels different, but the routine is the same. I work, I go out with Gavin, and I go home—alone. I’m always alone. There was a time not too long ago that I liked it. Now . . . I hate it. So even though I sit here, miserable and bored in this bar, it’s better than being alone.
Gavin keeps trying to sling girls at me, but the thought of touching anyone other than Candace is something that I just can’t stomach yet. A part of me wants to. Desperate to do anything to get her out of my head, but then I get scared of losing her, even if my head is the only place she exists for me. I’m torn. Lonely, but unwilling to walk away from the girl who doesn’t want me.
Another chick approaches, and as soon as she lays her hand on my knee, I’m out of my seat and walking away to go get another drink from the bar.
“Can I get another?” I ask the bartender as I set down my bottle.
“I don’t understand why you keep coming out if you’re just gonna be a dick,” Gavin says when he slides up next to me at the bar.
Looking over at him, I ask, “Who am I being a dick to?”
“This place is loaded with chicks, but you’re the biggest pu**y in here.”
“Nice,” I say as I laugh with annoyance.
He turns to lean his side against the bar and gives me a serious look before saying, “She’s gone, man.”