Wasted Words by Staci Hart

Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth. “I’ve been thinking—”

“You think too much.” It was a quiet joke that wasn’t at all a joke. My heart ticked up a notch.

“I know. I just think we need to talk—”

“Cam,” I interrupted, my voice low. “You promised.”

She nodded. “I know I did, and I meant it.”

My hands were ice cold, my brow dropping. “But here you are, not even twelve hours later, wanting to talk?” Frustration rolled through me like a storm. “Twice you’ve tried to leave me. Twice in one week. If this makes the third, I can’t … I don’t …”

“If we could just talk about it—”

“I don’t know what else there is to say. I know I said I’d be there for you, that I’d have your back but I can’t do this alone. You’re out to protect yourself, but what about me? Do I still just have to keep getting hurt, over and over again? I’ve done everything I know to do to reassure you, Cam. Everything. But even after last night, even after …” I swallowed hard, forcing the emotion back down. “After everything, you still doubt me.”

Her eyes shone with tears. “It’s not that easy for me, Tyler. I’m scared, and this is how I really feel. I know it’s annoying, I know you don’t want to talk about it. But you can’t just kiss it away like you do because it won’t stay gone. We just need to talk—”

“No,” I shot, hands shaking. “No more talking. I can’t talk anymore, Cam. I can’t just keep hashing it out, over and over. I’ve done everything I can to convince you. Everything. And you still don’t believe me. I’ve got nothing left to give. You promised, Cam. You promised.”

Her brow dropped. “This isn’t fair, Tyler. I told you from the beginning that I was crazy. You know me, maybe better than anyone. How do you of all people not understand?”

“Fair?” The word was tight and low, full of my hurt. “After all of this, you say I’m not being fair?”

“Well, you’re not! You won’t even talk to me!”

“Because we’ve already fucking talked about it, and I’m done.”

Her face bent in pain, chin quivering. “I just wanted to explain myself. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Too late.” I took a breath and grabbed a stack of clothes, shoving them into my bag haphazardly.

“Tyler—”

“Stop.” My voice boomed, louder than I meant, and she jolted at the sound. I took a shuddering breath, clenching my fist, letting it go, willing myself to calm down. “I get it. You’re right. I can’t drag you into this. I can’t force you to care. I can’t make you let me in. This is on you.” I shoved another stack of clothes in, then my shaving kit, heart banging, palms sweating. “I can’t do this with you.”

Her breath caught. “Now? Or ever?”

“I don’t know. I’ve got to go.”

I zipped up my bag and picked it up, trying to breathe, but the air caught in my lungs like sandpaper when I saw her standing there, small and scared. My pulse raced in my ear, a thump and a whoosh, then another as I fumbled through my thoughts, watching her there in front of me, everything I ever wanted, everything I couldn’t have. I wanted to pick her up and hold her, tell her I needed her. But I’d already done that very thing. The only thing left to do was let her go. So I swallowed the words I wanted to say and did just that.

LOST

Cam

THE DOOR SLAMMED HARD ENOUGH to make me jump, snapping me out of the haze as I stood in the corner of Tyler’s room.

I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to think, only wanted to feel the hollow in my chest. He’d taken my heart out the door with him.

I made it across the few steps to his bed and sank onto it, staring at nothing. And then, the tears came — confused tears that burned my eyes and nose, tears that left me with sobs that tore out of my throat, unwanted, unbidden.

I was too late. I’d lost him.

He was right, about everything. I’d hurt him, and I’d only keep hurting him. I’d had it all, and I pushed him too far. I should have told him about everything long before, but I didn’t think it would matter so much. If I’d only realized it did. If only I’d talked to him about what mattered from the start.

If only.

He was right, but he was wrong. I was right, but I was wrong.

Nothing made any sense anymore.

It was a long while before my tears ran dry, and I lay curled on top of Tyler’s comforter, trying not to think about how it smelled like him. Trying not to think about what would happen when he came back. Would we actually talk? Or would he leave? Move out? And then, after that, would I ever see him again?

The thought ripped through me, tears I thought were dry springing up, fresh and new. I didn’t know how I could ever be without him. And as happy as he’d made me, I regretted doing it. Because now … now he was gone, maybe forever.

I sniffled and picked up my glasses, slipping them back onto my nose before I hauled myself out of his bed. I stood idly in the living room, not knowing what to even do with myself, finally deciding to lie on the couch. I grabbed a soft, furry throw blanket and lay down, curling up into a ball. I turned on a Warpaint album, letting the moody sound fill the room and my empty chest, not planning on moving. Maybe ever.

Every moment with Tyler played through my mind, memory after memory. I lay there for hours like that, listening to the album on repeat, lost in my thoughts. Sometimes tears would fall. Sometimes I would lie still and quiet, staring at nothing. Sometimes I would close my eyes and picture him walking through the door, telling me he’d never give up.