Unfinished (26 page)

Minutes. 

We were
stalling, trying to find a way out of this mess that we found ourselves in.  I
couldn’t keep the tears away. They slid silently down my face, threatening the
complete break that was inevitable. 

Owen turned
towards me and I saw his own eyes glistening.  It nearly did me in.  Because no
matter what I had said, I knew that it was real.  I knew he loved me.  I knew
our connection was rare.  But I also knew that it wasn’t enough. Not anymore. 
Not when he wasn’t willing to make the hard decisions that would allow us to be
together.  I needed him to be all in.  I was all in, my heart was his. But you
can’t do it all on your own, and I was realizing that I was trying to do just
that.  There is patience and then there is being a fool and I had crossed that
line.  I had to save myself.  I had to make the hard choices.  I knew what I
could handle, and loving him when he still had obligations that he wasn’t going
to walk away from was not something I could take.  Risk taken. Now I was
folding.

“I can’t walk
away from you.  I can’t let you do this to us,” he said quietly. My heart
ripped a little more.  There was such truth in his voice that I wanted to fall
into his arms, which is why I needed him to leave.

“I can’t let
you stay,” I replied.

He shook his
head, running his fingers through his hair and I could see him fighting off the
emotion.  I heard it in his voice as he said, “I love you.” I bit my lip hard
to keep the sob that slammed against my chest away.  Three simple words that
tore into me like shrapnel, spilling out everything I was trying to hold
together. 

“I can’t,” I
said softly. “I have to do this for me.”

I met his gaze
and my heart caught. This was the hardest moment.  I could feel my heart
turning to dust.  There would be no healing it.  It was done.  All I could hope
for now was survival, a scab that would allow me to make it through one more
day.

Owen shook his
head and turned away from me, once again running his hands through his hair. I
saw his shoulders rise and fall as he took deep breaths.  “This isn’t over.  I
won’t let it be over. You need some space, I get it.  But it’s not over.” He
moved towards the door, refusing to look back at me.  I couldn’t let him walk
out without making this final.  I couldn’t leave it hanging over us, waiting
for it to crumble slowly.  Rip the band-aid off, right?  That’s what that they
say. 

“It is over,
Owen. I can’t do it.  I won’t,” I said simply.  He paused, hand on the
doorknob.  I waited for him to say something.  Make another plea, force me to
listen.  But he didn’t. He gave another slight shake of his head and walked out
the door.  It closed behind him with a loud bang and I flinched at the finality
that it left behind. This was our goodbye.  Sudden and sad and I was completely
lost. I stared at the empty room as it seemed to spin around me.  That’s when I
saw the bag that he’d dropped on the floor when he’d gotten here.  He’d walked
out without it. I stared at it for a long moment.  He’d come back for that,
right?  It was important. I could change my mind and we’d talk.  There had to
be an answer to this whole thing.  Regret started to drown me as I second
guessed what I had done.  I sunk to my knees next to the bag and let the pain
overtake me.

Chapter Thirty-One

Time went by,
but it seemed to stand still. It had been weeks, but I still felt like I was
living the same day.  The day I had told Owen to leave. The day I had broken us
both.  I felt trapped.  I felt lost and completely distracted.  I was too busy
drowning in my pain to notice much that was happening around me.

I tried to put
on a brave face.  I had to.  I was a fool and everyone knew it.  I had let
myself believe that this was my fairytale.  Granted, I’d known it was a
complicated, fucked up fairytale, but I had still let myself fall for the idea
of a happy ending. I was an idiot.  Had I been an outsider looking in, I would
have seen the signs.  I would have had pity for the pathetic girl who thought
her story was different.  I knew now that there was no white horse, no prince
charming coming to make things wonderful. It was a joke. I was a joke. I’d
fallen for it. 

I tried to
stay busy, but the quiet always found me. It hurt.  I was beginning to admit
that it always would. It didn’t help that I was going through this heartbreak
over the holidays.  It was just salt to my very deep wounds.

I had weak
moments.  I had a lot of them.  Often, I’d find myself on the verge of calling
him. I would have the number pulled up and just stare at the call button. For
minutes. For hours. I would remember. I would give into the memories.  They
were a sweet torture.  I’d written him emails. Long drawn out emails that
spilled out every thought and feeling that I had.  Every regret. Every
lingering hope.  I never sent them. My logic and my heart were in constant
battle.  My heart refused to let go completely.

I wasn’t
healing.  No one really knew how low I sunk when I was alone.  I wore his shirt
because the smell of him on it still soothed my soul. Well, Cassie knew, but
luckily she was giving me time to wallow in my own pity for awhile before
pulling out the tough love.  I was grateful. I wasn’t ready to be done.  It was
unhealthy, I knew that.  I’d get there.  It was just going to take some time.

Owen had tried
to contact me.  He apologized.  He tried to change my mind. He wanted to see
me, to talk.  I would like to say that I had the will power to not read his
emails or listen to his messages, but the truth is I listened, I read his words
on lonely nights.

Yeah, I wasn’t
healing, not really.  Not at all.

*****

Cassie was due
over any moment.  It was New Year’s Eve and luckily my best friend had taken pity
on me and agreed to come over and spend it with me at home. Honestly, I think
she was afraid I might slit my wrists if I had to ring in the new year all
alone with my annoying heartbreak on my shoulders.  Either way, I was glad to
have her here to distract me.  Tomorrow would start a new year. A year without
Owen in it.  I was trying to focus on it being a new beginning, but instead it
just felt like a sad ending.  It was as if the start of the new year was the
final nail in my coffin, a deadline of sorts, to let go of everything that I
was holding on to.  I was being forced out of the nest. Reality had been
waiting patiently for me to get my act together, but it was tired of playing
nice.  It was time for tough love.  Wake up and get over it.

And the truth
was, it was a little easier.  Each day gave me another success under my belt. 
Granted they were small successes, but they were something. I held on to them. 
I wanted to believe that I was making progress. I wanted to believe that I
hadn’t fully cemented my place as this pathetic heart broken girl.  It was hard
though. I felt like I had lost myself.  I tried to remember who I’d been before
he’d shown back up in my life.  I tried to find her again.  But I couldn’t.  It
was as if he’d come in and changed her so much that there was no going back.  I
had to find a new version of myself.  I had to heal and live with the decision
that I had made. 

Owen had
stopped writing. He hadn’t tried to call in days.  I should be happy about
that. Maybe it would help me move forward. But really, it just made me sad.  He
was obviously giving up and letting me go.  I hadn’t returned any of his calls,
so for all he knew I was over it. It was better that way.  It was. But damn, if
it didn't hurt. 

There was a
knock on the door, Cassie was early.  Elbows deep in sudsy water, I groaned and
searched for a towel.  “Just a second,”  I called out.  I puffed a stray strand
of hair from my face and hustled to the door.  “You’re early,” I scolded as I
swung the door opened.  “Why didn’t you just use your key?” My voice dropped at
the end and I froze, because it wasn’t Cassie on my doorstep.  It was Owen. 
The darkened porch kept him in shadows.  He wore faded jeans and a dark grey
hoodie, and a baseball cap pulled low.  He looked so devastatingly handsome
that it literally took my breath away.  It took a full minute for me to even
process that he was actually standing right in front of me. 

“What are you
doing here?” I managed.  The cool breeze hit my bare arms and I shivered.  At
least I think it was the breeze causing the reaction.  At this point I wasn’t
sure.  Either way, I felt very exposed.

“I needed to
see you,” he said, almost shyly. 

“Oh.” I didn’t
know what else to say.  I mean this was the last thing that I had expected. Honestly,
I hadn’t ever expected to see him again.  Yet here he was, standing on my
doorstep.  I had to remind myself that running into his arms was not the best
idea.  But, I really wanted to.  The very thought made it difficult for me to
breathe.  As much as I had convinced myself that I was moving forward and
letting Owen go, this moment made me a liar.  I hadn’t moved on at all.  I had
only been surviving. Seeing him in front of me reminded me that I had barely
been breathing this past month. 

“Can I come
in?” he asked.  I bit my lip, unsure.  Could I let him in?  Letting him in felt
all kinds of dangerous.  Every attempt that I had made to move forward meant
nothing.  Square one, that was where I found myself all over again.  But I
refused to let him know that.  I could see in his eyes what he was here for and
as badly as I craved the same thing, I couldn’t let that happen.  My heart
couldn’t take it. It was time to find my game face. 

“Please,” he
offered quietly.  The plea, so gentle and earnest, it broke through a little. 
I sighed and opened the door a little wider to let him pass.  My breath caught
as he brushed past me.  I wondered if the contact had been intentional.  The
look in his eyes told me that it was.

I followed him
into the living room, wondering momentarily if I should go to my room and get
my robe.  I felt vulnerable standing there in my flannel pants and tank top.  I
decided against it when I thought it might give him the upper hand. God, if he
could hear my inner dialog he would most certainly laugh.  I just hoped it
wasn’t written all over my face.  He was always so good at reading me.  I used
to love that about him, but right now it was just annoying.

Owen sat down
on the couch and leaned forward on his knees.  He was nervous.  I wanted to go
to him and run my fingers across his jaw, ease the furrow in his brow.  But, I
knew I couldn’t do that, so I leaned against the chair, arms crossed and waited
for him to speak.

“How have you
been?” he asked finally.  I smiled a little.  His nervousness was enough to
soften my heart.  I scolded myself for letting it.

“Did you come
all this way to ask me that?” I asked.

“Well, you
haven’t answered any of my emails, calls, or texts,” he said, holding my gaze. 

I shrugged.  I
didn’t know how to respond to that.

“I wanted to
see you,” he said. 

“Owen, we
decided that-” I started.  He cut me off as his head snapped up, his eyes
suddenly fierce. 

“No, you
decided.  You pushed me away,” he said, anger filling his tone.  “You gave up,”

I sighed. 
Letting him in had been a mistake.  I could see that this conversation was not
going to go well.  If either of us was hoping for closure, I was pretty sure
that we would both be disappointed. 

“You didn’t
give me a choice,” I said simply.  I was afraid that extra words at this point
would be my undoing.  I was too close to the edge.  I could feel tears.  I
could feel my resolve close to collapse.  I wasn’t ready for this
conversation.  I wasn’t sure that I would ever be ready.

“You didn’t
even give me a chance to explain,” he said. 

“What exactly
did you need to explain?  You bought a ring for another woman, Owen. That kind
of sums everything up. What did you expect me to do?  Smile and pretend that it
was okay?  You made me look like a fool.”  I felt a flash of hot anger fill
me.  It was welcome, as it helped me ignore the pain.

He groaned
loudly and rose to his feet.  “Damn it, Ally. Can’t you just give me a goddamned
minute to explain?” His eyes were hard and full of frustration.

I shook my head
and folded my arms across my chest, in defense, in stubbornness, in an attempt
to warm myself from the ice that seemed to surround me.

“Owen, please,
I don’t want to have this fight again.  I’m trying my best to move forward and
to let us go.  I can’t do that when you keep showing up and pulling me
backwards.” I hoped my voice sounded stronger than I felt.  I needed him to
hear me. I needed him to believe my words.

“I just wanted
to talk.  I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. 

“But you are
hurting me.  Don’t you see that?  Each time I see you or I get a text or a call
I am right back where I started.  It’s like you want me to hurt and miss you. 
But I can’t do that anymore. I can’t be broken for you, not anymore.”  I was
fighting tears now.  I tried to read his expression, but he avoided my eyes,
getting up and walking to the window.

I waited for a
long time without speaking.  He stood, his back to me, still as a statue. The
only movement I saw was his hand, clenching into a fist.  The silence was so
heavy.  I felt torn. Even with all of the tension between us, having him this
close made me feel like I was home again, which was silly because he wasn’t my
home anymore.  Had he ever really been?

The truth is,
having him this close to me was dangerous.  There was so much hurt from our
goodbye that having him here, seeing him, was crushing.  It was a constant tug
of war within me, a constant struggle between what I desperately wanted and
what I had to do in order to survive.

Finally, he
turned back to me.  I instantly felt the change in the air.  He was harder
somehow, determined and almost business like.  It was unsettling.  This wasn’t
the Owen that I knew. 

“You’re right.”
His voice was colder too.  It made me shiver. “I shouldn’t have come here.  I
should have never pushed you into this.” He waved his hand in the air between
us, dismissively. 

I was
confused.  When he’d gotten here I was sure it was because he was going to try
and push for some sort of reconciliation.  I was prepared, somewhat, to deal
with that.  I tried hard to convince everyone around me, myself included, that
I just wanted to be away from the whole thing and move on.  I told myself that
I wanted him to stay away so that I could heal and forget him.  But the thought
of forgetting him, that wasn’t nearly as appealing as I let on. Even right now
I longed to be close enough to take in his scent.  I was weak.  I was a fool. 
But no one had to know that but me.

“I led you
on,” he said holding my gaze, his eyes were dark and without any of the warmth
that I had come to expect from him.  He felt like a stranger.

I’m sure my
face reflected the confusion I had.  His abrupt change in demeanor had me
spinning.

He gave me a smirk. 
The one that I hated, the cocky grin that he’d used on all of those bimbos in
high school.  He’d never used it on me.

“Look, Kit
Kat, we both know the score. We tried it, it didn’t work out. It happens. I’m
sorry for leading you on and making you think it was more than it was.  That
was wrong.  I guess I never thought you’d get this attached.  It’s why I steer
clear of the good girls.” He had the nerve to chuckle. 

“The good
girls?” I asked.  I was having trouble processing his words. I couldn’t keep
up. 

He smirked
again.  “Yeah, you’re a good girl.  I try to stay away from ya’ll, but hell,
you’re beautiful and after that night in the barn I had to see it through when
I got the chance. I had to see how it felt to be with you.”

I stared at
him.  I didn’t have words.  Who was this man in front of me?  I had never seen
him before.

“Don’t look at
me like that…all sad puppy dog.  We can be grown ups about this.  You were
right.  I just got caught up in the whole thing.  You know, it was like playing
house or something.  But you don’t fit in my life.  I’ve worked damn hard at
getting my life together.  I worked my way into a lucrative job, and I would
never walk away from that. It is too important to me.  I shouldn’t have tried
to make you believe that I would,” he shrugged. “Honestly, I was having too
much fun fucking you to give it too much thought.  But, we were friends. I
shouldn’t have ruined that by trying to get you into bed. I was selfish.  We
both know who I am. I don’t love you. I don’t even know what it means to love
someone.  I just got caught up and I realize that now.” His voice was cold,
level, unemotional.

“You’re an
asshole,” I said. The words fell out of my mouth before I’d even thought about
them. Their bite lessened by the fact that I had tears streaming down my
cheeks.

“I’ve never
denied it,” he shrugged.

I searched his
eyes, trying to read him, but he was giving absolutely nothing away.