Just Because of You by Gianna Gabriela

Author:Gianna Gabriela [Gabriela, Gianna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Author Gianna Gabriela LLC
Published: 2020-03-03T05:00:00+00:00

16

CHRISTIAN

I step out of the car too and walk purposefully toward her. I’m hoping she’s wrong about fixing things, but I won’t push anymore, not today. “Well then, can you let me at least fix your car?” I ask, knowing she’ll likely say no. I don’t blame her though. Not for a single thing. I’m the one who’s at fault here; I did the wrong thing. And regardless of how much I want to fix that, she doesn’t want to hear it. Not yet. I’ll talk to her when she’s ready. I’ll keep insisting until she either hears me out or shuts me down.

I notice the hesitation in her face. The exhaustion behind her eyes. The tears she tried to hide as I drove her home. The tears I felt right in my soul as she shed them. Every ounce of pain she feels, I feel too. Nothing hurts more than knowing I’m the cause of her pain, the cracks in her heart. The brokenness she feels.

She was pure and innocent when I met her. She was sarcastic but also filled with hope. She was a beautiful story that I marred. I didn’t want to ruin her. I didn’t want to bring her down.

I didn’t want to destroy her.

But looking at her here, in front of me, with no strength or desire to fight anymore, I realize I did more damage than I expected. I made things worse by leaving her when I should’ve stayed. I thought she’d get over me, over us… I thought she’d be back to the girl she was before I entered her life. I was wrong.

She gives me a look that can only be described as defeat. “Knock yourself out,” she says after a few seconds and her words give me more hope than I’ve felt in years. To her, they may not mean much, but to me they mean she’s letting me in. In some small way. She didn’t turn my help down. I know it’s probably because she’s tired of arguing with me, but I don’t care. I want to help her in whatever way I can. She says it’s too late to fix things, but I don’t believe that. I don’t want to believe that.

“Can I have the car keys?” I ask, my words measured. I don’t want her to close the small window she’s opened up for me.

She grabs her keys from inside of her bag then extends her hand to me. I close the distance between us, my hand moving toward hers. The moment we touch, I feel a rush. The big falling portion of a rollercoaster ride is the best way I can describe the feeling of her hand in mine, but even that pales in comparison. Holding on to her for a few seconds too long, I pull away. If I hold on any longer, I know I’ll lose the last bit of control I have left. I’ll give in to my desire of having her in my arms.

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