Lumberjack's Second Chance Haven by Emily Crescent

Author:Emily Crescent [Crescent, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

I can tell instantly how much my words affect him. Any relaxation he displays disappears. He sits up, swings his leg over the bed, and gets up. “I didn’t break up with you, Manda,” he says gently, “we both decided to break up.”

“You’re just playing word games,” I say bitterly. I think the bitterness has a lot to do with how he sounds gentle when he speaks.

I only see him from behind. He doesn’t look at me as he grabs his boxers and pulls them up. “There aren’t any word games,” he says in that same irritatingly gentle voice. “You didn’t want to go where I was going and I didn’t want to stay where you were.”

“You said you cared for me but you left!” I say.

“You said you cared for me but you stayed,” he replies. He’s still gentle, and that’s infuriating.

He reaches for his jeans and as he steps into them, I say, “I wasn’t important enough for you to change your plans.”

He doesn’t say anything until he has his jeans up. Then, as he gathers his other clothes, he says, still gently, “You’re full of shit, Amanda, and you know it.”

“How dare you?” I spit out as I sit up. “I loved you!”

“But not enough to be with me where I would be,” he says. He’s got his shirt and his boots in his hand now and he looks at me with eyes narrowed. There’s plenty of bitterness in his voice now. “You and I did the exact same thing. You and I both decided that where we wanted to live was more important than living with each other. Somehow, you get to make my decision selfish but yours purely good. Pure as snow. You ended the relationship just as much by refusing to be with me as I did with you. Somehow, though, you get to be the hurt one. You get to be the poor, aggrieved, scorned, and mistreated woman. It’s bullshit, and you know it is.”

“Fuck you!”

He walks to the door and says, “No thanks. You already did and I’m not horny anymore.” He steps out and the worst thing about it all is that as he does, I grab the nearest thing to throw at him. The door closes and what hits it is my fucking pillow. Yeah, I don’t even get the satisfaction of a crash or a bang. I stare at the door, anger filling me but then the anger disappears.

I mean, he’s right.

I’m bitter and angry because he didn’t make a sacrifice for me that I wasn’t willing to make for him. As the tears flow down my cheeks and I fight as hard as I can to keep from letting my sobs be audible, I locus on the last exchange, the mean comment about me already fucking him and him not being horny anymore. It gives me just enough anger to make the absolute desolation I feel from drowning me.

What I want to do is just collapse on the bed.

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