Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” I reply sort of stupidly.
“Perfect.” Her smile is bright, and I don’t detect any uncertainty in her now. I do think she’s decided to move on. For a brief moment, I marvel at her strength and determination. I respect the fuck out of it particularly because I’m not feeling as positive about all this the way she seemingly is.
I can’t even enjoy her perfect ass as she turns on her heel and heads out of my bedroom, too intent on my own internal feelings.
I think I just gave up something really fucking good.
CHAPTER 10
Regan
I walk out of Dax’s bedroom with my clothes clutched loosely in my hands and my chin lifted proudly. I know he’s watching my naked backside, so I put an extra sway to my hips as I disappear from his sight. The minute I’m out in the hallway, I quickly dash to my bedroom, shutting the door behind me. Once I’m safely away from Dax’s pitying eyes, I lean against my bedroom door and sink onto the carpet. My chest is constricted, and my heart is pounding like a runaway train.
Damn it, that hurt.
I didn’t think anything could hurt worse than when my ex-boyfriend, Paul, broke up with me because of me having PNH.
“I’m sorry, Regan,” he had told me in a sad, almost whiny voice. “But this is too much for me to handle. I can’t just sit around and wait for you to die.”
I had thought the words were incredibly harsh. They had broken my heart, even though I know he hadn’t intended to. I thought when people loved someone, they stayed with them through thick and thin. Their problems and pain became their partner’s problems, too.
Paul just couldn’t handle it, and I suffered my first major crushing heartbreak of my life. I had immediately called Lance, and he sat patiently while I sobbed on the phone. He was actually in the locker room getting ready for a game, but he never pressed me to hurry. He just let me vent and pour my heart out to him.
Yes, Lance was older and supposedly wiser than me. But he had never had a real relationship with a woman, so I hadn’t known if his advice was accurate. He had told me, “Regan… I’m going to propose to you that it wasn’t really love with Paul. If it was, he never would have done that to you.”
I eventually accepted that advice because I had no other rational explanation for how someone who supposedly loved me could hurt me so badly.
And while Dax and I are nothing but friends, and we were only intimate once, the pain I’m feeling in the center of my chest seems a million times more debilitating. And I don’t understand that. Dax and I are not in love. We love and care for each other as friends, but we’ve never said those words to each other. He’s helping me out of the kindness of his heart and a duty he feels he owes to Lance. It’s not even actually a duty or an obligation to me. In fact, I think this is his way to keep Lance’s memory strong and alive purely for himself.
When I inhale a shuddering breath, it comes out staccato like.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Why does it hurt so much?
Dax rejected me for reasons that have to do with me being me. Same as Paul.
I sit there a moment with my head against the door, wondering how I’m going to face Dax again. The way he managed to break things off before they even really got started was humiliating. He tried to play it off as if he were doing what was best for me. Telling me he didn’t want things to be confusing or awkward for me when I should really be concentrating on my health. But I also saw other things on his face. When I admitted to him how inexperienced I had been, I’d seen what I was fairly sure was pity. Particularly when I told him my boyfriend had dumped me because I was sick. I felt like such a loser admitting those things.
But I have to give myself a slight pat on the back. I recovered, pulled myself together, and gave him the brightest, most unaffected smile I believe I’ve ever given in my entire life, then told him that we should just forget it ever happened. But I know I won’t. I’ll dwell on it for quite some time. There’s no doubt I will always wonder what could have been.
But one thing I’ve gotten incredibly good at over the last few years since being diagnosed with PNH is learning how to put on a façade so the people around me would never guess my inner turmoil. I’ve learned how to keep my pain and vulnerability internally squirreled away from the rest of the world, not because I’m afraid to share it.