Fix Up (15 page)

When I think how much I hurt him—and am still hurting him—I want to break everything around me. When I think that I'm adding to his pain still lingering inside of him, I don't want to fight to stay with him. I don't want to make him unhappy. He deserves so much more, so much better, and for a while, I forgot it. He deserves more than me; he deserves better than me.

"That's it, Kate." I turn around and face her, silent tears falling down my cold cheeks. I shrug and swallow a sob before it breaks free from my mouth. "It's time I let him go."

She shakes her head, her thin and perfectly trimmed eyebrows frowning. She stands up and holds up her hands. "Have you lost your damn mind?" She points at me, almost menacingly. "I don't want to see your self-destructive side taking the upper hand, Skye. Stop all this bullshit and fight for your man!"

Again, I shrug, disconnected. I feel the pain of this decision, it's like a knife cutting all my organs, but I'm at a point where I'm wondering if I'm ready for a relationship. I'm doing everything to make things harder between Duke and me, and I don’t hurt only myself; I hurt him too. I can't tolerate it anymore. He's right. He shouldn't have to fight against me to be in a relationship with me. Duke and I, we know how love is not enough in life.

"We're both tired, Kate. Not long ago you even hinted at a break up if it was to keep Duke and me from tearing at each other. At least right now I know he loves me. I don't want to see us back together and happy for a while to end with him hating me. It'd be worse."

I see her shoulders falling and understanding changing her face. With what she told me about her parents and their marriage, she's not going to say anything to convince me otherwise. Instead, she nods, sadness creeping on her face. It's my undoing.

A sob escapes me, and I fall on my knees, my arms tight around me, my wild frizzy hair hiding me, some locks sticking to my damp face. I can't take anymore pain. Why am I still hurting? Why can't I be happy? Why do I always do everything wrong?

Carefully, she kneels next to me and engulfs me in her tiny arms, whispering comforting words I can't even hear through the noise of my sobs.

"I love him so much," I cry, my breathing loud. "I can't breathe, Kate."

"Shhh ..." She kisses the top of my head, a hand patting my hair like my mother would do. "It's going to be all right. Let it go, Skye."

*  *  *

SKYE

"How are you?"

I frown and shake my head. Derek called me twenty minutes earlier to ask me to come and get a coffee with him at the coffee house, and even if I don't know if it's Kate or Duke who called him to let him know how awful things are since yesterday, here I am, facing him as he's trying to smile encouragingly. He's not about to comment how my eyes are so red and bloodshot that they're barely open or how pale I am—or the fact that I'm back in my oversized sweater. I'm regressing, but it's been only twenty-four hours since I had my mature moment when I decided to break my heart. Granted, I still have to call and see Duke to break up officially, but it's a done deal.

"Why did you ask me to join you here? I don't want to see Duke right now." I gaze at the door. I know he often stops by to grab a coffee, and I'm not ready to have THE talk with him. I might never be ready, but that's another point. And yet, I'm craving to see his longish dark hair, his eyes so intense locked on mine, his mouth so inviting and his bright tattoos coloring his tanned skin. But it's over. Soon, he'll be with another girl, and I'll be a piece of his past, a complicated one.

"I just wanted a coffee, and Kate told me that you didn't want to leave your bed this morning."

"You saw Kate?" I ask surprised.

He nods and takes another sip of his coffee, his brown eyes lost in thought for a second. "She was waiting for me after one of my classes. She's really worried."

I drink the last drop of my coffee, burning my tongue in the process, and check the time on my cell phone. I should be able to relax because I know Duke is in class right now; he's not about to walk in here, but I'm still worried because I know I won't be able to keep my head high and my eyes dry. "There's nothing to be worried about. I messed up."

He sighs and grabs my hand in his. The heat of his skin grounds me a little more, but it also makes the pain more vibrant inside of my chest. I blink several times, afraid to see my tears falling in the middle of the coffee house.

"Are you really going to break up with him?"

It's hard to swallow past the lump in my throat, and I'm not even sure I’d be able to talk right now. I just nod, avoiding his face. "Yes," I whisper, almost afraid to mutter this single word, so simple and yet sealing something so much more in my life and Duke's.

"It'll break him, Skye."

I look up and see the worry in his soft eyes, the eyes who saw his best friend doing crazy things so self-destructive in the past that they thought he'd never be alive past his twenty-first birthday.

"I'm breaking him already, Derek." I take a deep breath as my vision gets all burry. "I'm the self-destructive thing in his life. He's not happy with me, and I keep hurting him. I can't do it to him anymore."

He frowns and leans back in his chair. "You're making a big mistake. You're just sabotaging your relationship, hurting yourself purposefully in the process.’’

I stand up, my body tense. I get it. He's taking his best friend's side, but he doesn't see the bigger picture. I'm doing it
for
Duke. It's crushing me, killing me from the inside, and I know I will never be able to open up to someone else like I did with Duke. But in the end, I'm finally doing something good for him. We can’t possibly keep on doing this.

"Whatever." And I walk out, tugging on the long sleeves of my sweatshirt.

It's over, and I'm back to how I felt before I met Duke. Over.

Chapter Nine

DUKE

I look at my cell phone and laugh without humor. The fucking thing isn’t ringing, and of course. I’ve yet to receive a text from Skye. What the hell went through my fucking mind to ask for a break? As if she needs another reason to put the breaks on and turn away from me whenever she’s freaking out. Instead, I should have shackled her to me. Maybe that way we’d be finally able to lay it all out and actually act like a real couple in spite of all the shit around us.

“All right, man?’’

I turn my head toward Grayson and nod. He’s just like me, on his bed and looking at his cell phone, willing it to ring. But it’s been as silent as mine.

“You?’’

He shrugs and sits up, his back against the wall. His blond hair is covering most of his face, but I’m pretty sure there’s not even a hint of a smile. “My girl doesn’t seem all that bothered that we broke up. When I think I had her family throwing shit at me and I said nothing to her for so long, this is how it ends? Just because I’m fed up of always keeping my fucking mouth shut. Nice, right?’’

I run a hand on my goatee and over my cheeks. I need a good shave. I’m a real mess. “It would seem even guys sit next to the phone waiting for it to ring, hmm?’’

He chuckles, making the bed hiss under him. “Do you want to go out for a drink? I think I need one, and from the look of it, you do too.’’

Thinking about some hard liquor to help me forget and numb everything for a little while is very tempting. But it’s not a good idea. I’m not in the right frame of mind to keep it smart and not down the whole bottle. And if I end up drunk out of my mind, who knows what other fucking mess I’d get myself in? Skye doesn’t need me drunk dialing her.

“Na, I’m fine.’’

He stands up and pats my leg before opening the door. “Don’t mope around. At least you still have your girl. It’s just a break, nothing more.’’

Staring at the door closing, I let the onslaught of fear take me over, taking me under. My breath gets heavier, faster. My heart hammers in my chest and my skin gets clammy.

In reality, I’m afraid that I started something much bigger than just a short break. I feel it, the fear lurking ready to break me, ready to beat me down and leave nothing behind.

Blowing out some air, I don’t try to fight the quiver of my lips or the sting in my eyes.

*  *  *

SKYE

With everything that has happened to me, I loathe violence. I really do, and yet, right now I can only think about slapping the sheepishly looking man in front of me with all my strength.

With his clear blue eyes, his perfect dirty-blond hair and his smart clothes, I can't stand being in front of him in his office while holding his gaze when I know he's going to be delighted at the news that I'm about to be officially single rather soon.

Dr. Charles Marshall should be the one listening to me without interfering or without feeling anything besides mild compassion. And yet ... yet ... I know he's got some kind of weird crush on me. I just let it all happen. A part of me knew it, and I liked it. I still like it—I hate myself for this.

"What's wrong, Skye?" he asks me kindly, breaking the silence and making me snort without feeling any trace of humor.

I tug on my sleeves and want to rip the oversized sweatshirt apart. It's just a piece of cloth, really nothing at all, and it just shows how much I'm regressing. But I can't get rid of it. Feeling safer, hidden almost, I need it right now. After all, every girl and woman tends to wear awful clothes and mope for a while when their heart is broken. I'm no different, and somehow I find some comfort in that.

"I'm about to break up with my boyfriend," I say, my voice calm but hard. I'm not crying anymore. It's been forty-eight hours since I decided to break up with Duke, and even if it still hurts like a bitch and I feel trapped in a nightmare, a really painful one, I'm not crying. I made the decision, and I know it'll be the best for him in the end and that's what matters.

Dr. Marshall's eyes brighten which makes me I frown. He leans over his desk, his elbows on the top of it. "Why?"

I look down and bite my lower lip. "I made another mistake, and he's hurting again because of me. He’s had enough already."

He swallows loudly. "That's all?"

I look back up and sigh. He's making me feel uneasy. I see the hope in his eyes for once readable in his open expression. It makes me feel just a little bit lighter, but that's all. I can't lie and say that I don't like seeing him in this office and talking with him; I can't lie and say that I don't trust him, but it's not enough. I don't feel drawn to him. I don't feel like I need him to breath. I don't feel my blood rushing in my veins whenever I'm in the same room with him. I don't feel all the rush I feel when Duke is mentioned or is in front of me because I love Duke—him and nobody else.

It’s not that I didn’t realize it before my lies blew up in my face, but I never dealt with Dr. Marshall’s attraction to me and my liking it.  I thought it was a betrayal to Duke, and my answer was to betray him further by lying and ruining what trust he had in me.

"I think we need to talk, Dr. Marshall." It sounds like a bad break up line, but I guess it's the way I should deal with it, like an adult and not like a coward hoping that it'll go away.

He sits straighter and loses the light in his eyes. "What about?"

I tug one last time on my sleeves and roll them up my elbows. "Do you ..." I take a deep breath, uneasiness creeping. "Do you feel something for me that you shouldn't as my therapist?"

He clears his throat and a pink hue colors his perfectly shaved cheeks. "Skye, it's your hour of therapy. We should stick—"

"Please, don't avoid my question," I cut him off with a determination I never thought I would have when I first stepped inside his office. I didn't even want to come in the first place, but Kate threatened to call my parents to tell them that I was about to cancel my meeting. It would be Hell on Earth.

His shoulders slump, and he looks down at his notepad, blank for today's session. "If you prefer another psychologist, I can refer you to other professionals." He looks back up, and even if we both know, he didn't answer my question, between the lines he just did it.

I feel a little flutter in my heart, barely there, and I bring a hand to my temple. I feel a headache coming. "But why? Why would you feel something for me?" I mumble in the silence of the office.

He leans back in his chair, his head resting on the back of it for a second, the leather cracking under his lean body. "There's no explanation. You're a beautiful young woman who went through hell, and you find the strength to overcome everything without losing yourself completely in the first place. You're smart, sensible, sensitive, soft, but still you've got so much strength that anyone can only be in awe." He waves around him helplessly. "And here I am, feeling much more than I should for a woman who is my patient and who is not available on so many levels that it makes me feel like a jerk to feel such powerful things for you."