If I Break THE COMPLETE SERIES Bundle (175 page)

Jealousy….

It’s a poisonous feeling.

One that grows and grows,

wraps itself around you

and takes over your soul.

Lisa

F
all came and went as quickly as a leaf falling from its branch, and winter took hold, sending a chill through our little town, freezing what was old to make room for the new.

He’s inside me, taking over me, consuming me, hypnotizing my thoughts, claiming my body as his. I moan his name, and my fingers dig into his back as he pushes rhythmically inside me. He plays me as if I’m his favorite instrument, and I make every sound before I crescendo. This is when he’s mine, when I’m the only thing in his thoughts, where time outside of us doesn’t matter.

He grabs my wrists and pins them down—it’s a rule I break often.

No marks.

I can’t mark
him,
but he marks me.

“Will,” I moan.

The tension between my thighs builds, ready to throw itself off the cliff that is us. I rock beneath him. His body is hard and his skin wet. His eyes look into mine. That’s become one of my favorite parts, when he not only gives me his body but shares his soul. His clear blue eyes clouded with lust, with need. He needs me. I free him. This is when he’s alive. I can feel him coming close.

“Don’t stop. I’m almost there,” I plead, begging him to keep going, to not stop or pull away.

He moves faster and faster, granting my request, and his lips kiss mine, taking them in a slow, passionate kiss I usually don’t get from him but I give him all the time. It’s so natural, so wonderful, but he usually keeps it from me.
This
kiss, even if his words never say it, lets me know how he feels, what he can’t say , and it’s what pushes me over the edge, relieving all my tension. My toes curl, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. I pant to catch my breath, and my body quivers before he follows.

His body rests on mine, our breathing frantic, our hearts beating rapidly but as one. My fingers trail up his back, and I kiss his shoulder. He rolls off me, catches his breath, and pulls me against his naked body. I revel in the small amount of time we have, the moments when he’s guilt-free, when I pretend that it’s just us with no
complications
. I pretend my heart isn’t going to break the moment he leaves, that reality doesn’t end the best part of my world.

Those moments, that small window when he’s like this, are short, and when he removes his arm from across my stomach, I know it’s over. The bed shifts, and he gets out of bed and grabs his clothes. His body is beautiful, sculpted and hard, and I feel lucky that he shares it with me. His eyes find mine. I try to smile even though I want to cry. I hate this part. He knows I do, and I don’t want to ruin what just happened, but I know the words I’m going to speak will. I can’t hold them in anymore, so I try to prolong the time by trying not to say them. I try to think of everything else to say.

“Evie’s going out of town next week. She and Jack are going to Vegas.”

His eyes widen, his jaw clenching, his guard coming up around him.

“Could we spend the night together?” I’m hopeful even though his expression gives away his answer before he opens his mouth. I know the rules, I know what this is, but we’ve spent the night together before. Only once when he told them he was going out of town for business and got a room for us outside of town. It was one of the best nights of my life.

“Lisa, you know I…” His voice is stern but soft.

His eyes, which had been free and clear and full of me, now avoid me. I see distance in them, guilt weighing on him, and my eyes start to water. My tears don’t usually make an appearance while he’s with me.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says quietly. It’s as noncommittal as we are, but I’ll take it. He doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean, so I know he’ll try, and that means so much. “Are you okay?”

It’s always the same question every single time. He looks at me with his eyes full of sadness, his expression full of embarrassment, and I hate it! That question always makes me feel terrible, as if we just did something wrong… which we have, but I hate that he’s conscious of it, that he reminds me of it. As if I said ‘no this is wrong, terribly wrong, I’m in love with you, and I want to be with you,’ it’s something he wants to hear.

“Yeah,” I say, my throat burning. He looks at me, and I turn my face away, feeling a tear escape.

“Lisa.” His voice is full of sorrow, fear, and every other depressing feeling that makes me want to vomit.

Anger starts to consume me, and it replaces the hesitancy I usually have to say the words I’ve wanted to say for so long. “I love you, Will.”

There’s silence, and each second cuts through me. When my eyes meet his, I see a storm in them, and I don’t care. I want him to say something. Anything.

“You know I…” His voice is weak, his expression full of confusion as if to say
Why on earth? How dare you?

“I love you, Will!” I say louder.

He doesn’t say anything but sits on the edge of the bed, as if my words have knocked him out. I cry, and I know it’s making things worse, but I can’t help it now. My resolve is in tatters.

I get off the bed and stand in front of him, naked and vulnerable. “I know it’s wrong. I know you said that this would happen. I know all of this, but can you at least say something? Can you at least try to make me feel just a little bit better about it?”

I only see deadness behind his eyes, as if he’s left himself and only his body is here with me.

“I want to be loved how you love her! Is that too much to ask? Does just wanting to be loved make me terrible person?” I ask desperately, and his eyes water.

“No, it doesn’t,” he says softly. “But it makes
me
a terrible person.” He stands up from my bed, grabs the sheet, and wraps it around me. He kisses my forehead and looks into my eyes. “I can’t love you how you want me to, Lisa, how you should be loved.”

I feel my heart race. Why did I say that? I feel anxious and angry with myself. “I’m sorry.”

I hug him, but he doesn’t hug me back. Anxiety courses through me. It was too much, I knew it was, but I couldn’t keep the words from leaving.

“I won’t ever bring this up again. Just please don’t be mad. Just forget I said it.”

“I think we… this is destroying you. I can’t do this to you anymore,” he says, going to the door.

I jump in front of it. He looks at me sympathetically but gently moves me out of the way. I follow him through my quiet, dark house to the back door. When he opens it, the cold air hits me. The sky’s still dark aside from the tiny light on my back porch. He goes down the porch and looks back at me.

“Good night, Lisa,” he says quietly before disappearing down the street into the darkness. His truck is parked almost four blocks up in its usual spot.

I get a sick feeling that it won’t be there again, that my words have pushed him too far and his good night was really a good-bye. I cry and cry into my pillow, in the bed that smells like him, and wish for things to be different. The worst part is that I’m angry. I think stupid thoughts about if it wasn’t for her, things wouldn’t be like this, and that’s silly and ridiculous and makes me feel a thousand times worse.

I haven’t heard from him in two weeks, the longest we’ve gone without seeing one another since that night in the coffee shop when it all started, where we first made love and it felt the way I knew it should have felt, the way I’d read about in books. I’ve lost a part of myself. I’m empty. Something is missing. I frequently check the cell phone he bought me, hoping for a call, a text, something, anything, but nothing comes. The worst part is that Evie and Jack got married in Vegas. I now have a lazy slob of a stepdad, but my mother’s been blissfully happy, and I hate her for it. I hate her for being happy while I’m miserable. I hate myself for being such a miserable envious bitch.

Everyone notices. Chris and Amanda, they can both see that something’s bothering me again. Even the acceptance letter to my second-choice school doesn’t make me feel better. They both think that Brett and I are fighting, and I feel badly about the deception. Brett’s still great and technically my boyfriend even though we’ve only had sex twice in six months. I lied and told him I didn’t think I was ready for what we did, and he was sweet and understanding and didn’t force the issue.

I trudge through my classes, glancing at my phone, the one I lied about and said Brett bought me that Will really did, between each period. A ritual that’s completely torturous. I head to the library at lunch. I’ve started avoiding the cafeteria because lunch is overwhelming. It’s become so hard to look at my friends, the people I usually share my secrets and deepest flaws with. I can’t look at them, especially Chris, because of my guilt and because he reminds me of Will.

“Hey.”

I look behind me and see Chris. He’s wearing a concerned smile, and he sits at the table with me.

“Hey,” I say back as he takes out a notepad and textbook.

Chris is very subtle. He’ll sit in my presence until I spill. I know he wants to know what’s going with me because it’s lunchtime and he’s here instead of stuffing his face. One of his favorite pastimes is eating, and I have no idea where it goes. I can’t spill though. He can’t know what’s wrong with me. Not this time.

“What’s up?” I ask, and he shrugs.

“Nothing, things are good. Except my best friend’s gone MIA on me.” He gives me a small grin.

“That Aidan is such a bastard, huh?” I joke, feeling a teensy bit better when he laughs. I sigh.

Aidan’s been gone for the past three months, since his mom had one of her itches to move again. It happened all the time when we were younger, but she really picked the worst possible time to jump up and move again.

“He isn’t the only one,” Chris says, and his voice is sullen.

“I’m sorry. I just have a lot going on.”

“We’re best friends. If we can’t be there for each other when it counts, what’s the point?” he says, looking at me with those beautiful green eyes of his. I hold his hand, and he squeezes mine.

“Sometimes just being there helps,” I say.

He goes into his bag, looks around for our nosey librarian, and hands me a bite-sized Snickers. I laugh and pop it into my mouth, and he does the same with his. We sit and eat in silence, and I get the feeling I’m not the only one with a problem.