Hate You Still by Lyssa Lemire

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

KNOX

The doorbell rings. I immediately cringe, a Pavlovian response, because the last several times I’ve heard the sound of our doorbell, it’s been her.

Emma.

Fuck, it’s been hard to resist her pleas to talk. I hate doing this.

But I know I have to.

I’m not the man for her anymore. Not without my talent – not without my ability to build a future for us. Not as a loser.

I walk to the doorway of my bedroom. I stick out my ear to hear Gavin answer the door downstairs.

Sure enough, it’s her.

“Gavin, let me in,” I hear her say.

There’s a fire in her voice that hasn’t been there before. She didn’t just ask to be let in. She demanded it. And in a way that sounds like she won’t be so easy to turn away this time.

I hear Gavin try to reason with her. Shit, I do feel bad for putting him in this position. But suddenly, I hear him sigh, “Shit,” and I hear a second pair of footsteps walking downstairs.

“Knox! We need to talk!” Emma’s voice booms from downstairs.

I never knew Emma to be a fiery, take-no-prisoners kind of woman, but I’ll be damned if that’s not what she sounds like right now.

I know there’s no avoiding this conversation now. I’d be a flat-out coward to remain cowering in my room upstairs as my poor roommate tries to usher out my scorned ex.

I cringe again as that word passes through my inner monologue. Ex. It still hurts deep in my heart and soul to think of me and Emma as something that’s over, finished. Even though we have to be – for her own good.

Taking a deep breath, I walk down the stairs.

My heart skips a beat when I see her. Fuck, she’s so beautiful. Even though it looks like she just rolled out of bed, even though her eyes are red and puffy, even though she doesn’t have a trace of makeup on – which is how I like her best, anyway. She’s stunning. Ravishing.

My eyes fall on hers. There’s no mistaking that she’s been crying. It feels like a sword is piercing through my heart to know that I’m the reason for those tears.

But the tears she’s crying now, I know, are nothing compared to the tears she’d be shedding over time if we tried to maintain this relationship as I descend down the drain that’s going to be the rest of my life without football.

“I’ll, uh, go out for a bit,” Gavin excuses himself, closing the door behind us and leaving us alone.

“Emma,” I begin, summoning the will to try and explain to her why we can’t be together anymore, but she dismissively turns her head to the side and holds up an open palm to stop me.

“No,” she says. “If you didn’t want to talk for the last three days, fine. Don’t talk. Listen.”

My mouth tightens to a straight line.

“I waited four years for an explanation last time.” She takes a deep breath, steadying her voice which began to quiver on her last word. She shakes her head. “I know it’s hard for you to open up. I know you had a hard past. I know so many people left you. It makes me want to cry just thinking about it. No one should have to grow up like that.”

I go to open my mouth, but she continues.

“You just need to know one thing. No one’s leaving you this time. I’m right here. I don’t want you to go. And I don’t want to go anywhere.”

She takes a decisive step toward me. She looks me in the eye. Her look is now soft, sincere, tender.

“This time, you’re the one who’s leaving. And you’re leaving me.”

I shut my eyes tight and turn my head, resisting the tears that threaten to rise.

“I’m not leaving you. I wouldn’t leave you. I won’t leave you,” she continues. I feel her hand gently grab mine, a light touch. “I’m ready to talk if you want to. I’m not turning my back. But you need to know that if you continue to hide behind this wall you suddenly built up, you’re the one turning your back on me. This time you’re the one who’s doing the abandoning.”

I open my eyes. I see her through a film of tears. She gives me one more heartfelt look before turning around and walking away, leaving me to think about what she’s said.

I feel like her words just smashed me into a million pieces.