HIRAM’S POV:
“Stop what?” she snaps, her eyes locked on mine. “Do you know how happy I was texting you yesterday? I missed you. I wanted to spend the evening with you. Do you even understand how I felt when Rhea told me she saw you with Lola?”
Her words hit me like a punch.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, reaching out to grab her hands, but she pulls back, stepping away.
Her rejection hurts, but not as much as her words.
“Sorry?” The question leaves her mouth in a high-pitched tone.
“That’s all you ever say, Hiram. Sorry. This is supposed to be a relationship! Do you even know how exhausting it is, trying to hold on to my sanity when all I do is second guess you? You tell me there’s nothing between you and other women, and God, I want to believe you! I really do. But how can I? You told me you didn’t want a relationship, and now you turn around and say you want one with me. So what happens when you want these other women?” Her voice cracks, and it feels like a knife twisting in my chest.
“Why are you even with me?” she demands, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Is it just my body? Or do you feel guilty because you were my first?”
“No,” I choke out, the word barely audible.
“Then what is it, Hiram? Because I feel like I’m constantly clawing for scraps of you, begging for something real. And I’m tired. I love you so much that I would do stupid things to get your attention. Any sane person who hears what I did today will think I am crazy, because maybe I am. It was easy to let Cillian go, because I expect everyone to let me down, but you…” she let out a sigh as she struggles with her words.
“I’m so fucking tired of trying to figure out where I stand with you. If you didn’t want to see me this weekend, you could have just said so. I would have made myself scarce and not been in your business.”
“I want you in my business,” I interject.
“No.” Her voice cracks as tears slide down her face, each one cutting deeper than the last. She takes a step back when I move toward her, rejecting my attempt to comfort her again.
“No, please. Just don’t.” She wipes at her tears with trembling hands. “I’m just so sick of it all-this endless cycle of hope and heartbreak. Life finally feels like it’s getting better, and then something rips it all apart. It happened with my dad, with Cillian, and now…” Her voice falters, and she looks away, as though finishing the thought would shatter her completely.
“June, please,” I beg, stepping closer despite the ache in her eyes. I pull her to me, clinging to her. Her head rests against my chest, and I feel her tremble as she tries to hold it all in.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, but this makes her break further. Each muffled cry carves deeper into the guilt I carry. I rest my chin on the top of her head as the soft strands of her hair brushing against my lips. Her tears soak through my jacket, but I couldn’t care less. I press my hand against her back, running soothing circles there, but it feels useless.
I can’t erase what she’s feeling. I can’t undo what I’ve done-or haven’t done.
Her fingers clutch weakly at the front of my shirt, and god, it hurts. I want to tell her everything. To bare every dark secret I’ve buried, and every truth about the man I really am. But the words stick in my throat because of my love for her. I fear how she will react knowing the truth. The thought of her hating me terrifies me more than anything, because no matter how much I want to be the man she deserves, I will never be human enough for her, and that alone breaks my heart. The truth would break her, and I’d lose her forever. Loving her feels like redemption, but lying to her feels like a punishment I deserve.
“I will never intentionally hurt you, June, I swear,” I say as I cradle her face in my hands.
“Everything I am doing is for our own good. I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone as much as I love you. It terrifies me, June, because I’ve never had this before. You’re everything to me, and I will never sacrifice it for anything.” I press a kiss to her forehead, sliding my hands down to hers, holding them tightly as I guide her to the armchair in the corner of the room.
I sit down and pull her onto my lap, wrapping my arms protectively around her. Gently, I lift her face. Then my fingers brush her hair aside. Her beauty is unaffected by the tears. I use my thumb to wipe away the last traces of wetness from her cheeks.
“June,” I whisper. “I wasn’t on a trip this weekend. I wasn’t. I wanted to tell you that, but I was afraid you’d misunderstand me.” Her sniffles fade, and she lifts her head slightly, her brows furrowing in confusion.
The weight in my chest intensifies, knowing I have to tell another lie to her.
“My weekend was busy, and I couldn’t let you stay around. I didn’t want you to feel unwanted-that’s why I lied about the trip,” I say to her, and she holds her gaze for a split second before leaning into my chest.
The room is silent for a moment before she breaks the silence.
“Promise me you will tell me whenever you are busy, and I swear I will give you the space you want,” she says, and I exhale deeply, kissing her forehead.
“I promise,” I reply, then she presses her lips against mine.
My hands roam around her body, caressing her soft skin while I fight hard to distract myself from the truth clawing at my chest.
“You have to promise to stop surprising me with your acts of service when you are angry. The one where you do not pick my calls, and then you show up to school without panties,” I say to her, and she chuckles, but I do not find it funny.
“June, I am serious,” I add, and she rolls her eyes at me.
“I have my underwear with me. It is in the pocket of my skirt, and I only took it off for what I wanted,” she says in a sassy tone as I reach for her pockets, taking them out.
“I want you to put them on right away.” My tone is firm but gentle.
She groans, taking it from me, then she gets to her feet.
“We could have just kept enjoying the moment, you know?” I glare at her without a word, and I watch her put on the underwear before reaching out to her.
“Are you happy now?” she asks as she sits on my lap. Then I button the top of her jacket, hiding her top completely.
“Now I am happy,” I say, and she sighs, leaning into me.
“I wonder what would have happened if I went with my initial plan,” she says, causing my brows to wrinkle as my mind wonders what her initial plan was.
“And what was that?” The moment I ask, her phone vibrates in her pocket. She pulls it out at once, letting out a gasp.
“Oh, my God! It’s Professor Victor. I missed his class.” She stands with panic written all over her face. The call ends, and her phone beeps.
“He just texted, and he wants to see me in his office.”
Those words make me feel uncomfortable because it feels too familiar for my liking.