As much as it hurt, I had to walk away from this. I’d given him everything I had, and there was nothing left for me.
I picked up my jacket. “I’m sorry, I-” I stopped myself. “I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for this time.”
“Zach, wait.” He touched my arm. Didn’t grab it, didn’t try to hold on to me, just touched me. Trying to bridge a divide that wasn’t going to get any narrower.
“I have waited.” The ice in my voice hid the ache in my throat. “And I’m done. If you don’t trust me, there’s no reason for me to stay.” I swallowed hard. “What was it you said the night we met? That possession is nine-tenths of the law?”
“Yeah,” he said, running a hand through his hair and staring at the floor between us. “Yeah, I did. Why?”
“I’ve given you that much. And more.” I willed my voice not to crack. In spite of the cold façade I showed him, this hurt more than anything had ever hurt before. “But you won’t give anything in return. If possession is nine-tenths of the law, then I have the same thing I had that night.” I shrugged enough to pull my arm away from his hand. “Nothing.”
“That’s not true,” he said quickly. “You know it’s not true.”
“No, I don’t know that.” I took a step back, separating us a little more. “I don’t know if you’re still angry because of what happened with Jake, or if you still want him or-”
“I do not want him,” he said, his voice sharp.
“Then what do you want?”
“I want you.” The sharpness left his voice and he was closer to pleading now. “Don’t go.”
“What reason do I have to stay?” I said. “Time and time again, we go through this same bullshit and I…” I shook my head again. “I just can’t. I don’t want to own you, but I need a bit more than a tenth.”
“You have more than that,” he said quickly.
“Do I?” I said through my teeth.
He took a breath. Swallowed hard. “Please…”
I shook my head and took another step. Now I was closer to the door than I was to him. I had to go. If I didn’t leave soon-now-he might convince me to stay. This had to end before I lost the will to end it.
“Zach,” he said, his voice cracking with what I assumed to be desperation. “Please, stay. Let’s talk. Please…”
“No.” I put my hand on the doorknob. Something in his eyes, in the sharp upward flick of his eyebrows, bade me to continue, but it was all I could say. Maybe it was cold and callous, but so be it. There was nothing more I could say without either hurting him more than I already had, or giving him more opportunity to beg me to stay. And stay I would if he pleaded enough, so the less that was said, the better.
“Don’t go,” he said in a hoarse whisper. I wondered if his voice was as close to cracking as mine. “You’re the one I want, not him.”
“You want me?” I didn’t want the anger to seep into my voice, but it was either that or let him know how close I was to tears. Anger won. “You say you want me, but I can’t figure out how else to show you that you have me. I give you every reason to believe you can trust me, and you don’t. I’ve given you every bit of myself, and the only things I’ve ever wanted in return are your trust and-” I stopped myself. If I went there, if I told him that all I wanted was his love, I’d fall apart.
“Zach-”
I put my hand up. “I’ve given you everything I can think to give, done everything I can think to do, and you won’t take it.” I swallowed hard, willing my composure not to fail me now. “I’m tired of holding on, so what else can I do but let go?” I opened the door, looked at him one last time and said the words I was tired of saying but seemed to be the only thing I could muster just then:
“I’m sorry, Nathan.”
He started to speak, but the click of the closing door cut off the sound. My knees threatened to give out as I headed down the porch steps, and I murmured a prayer over the sound of my thundering heart that the door didn’t open again. I’d walked away from him. I didn’t know if I could do it again.
The door didn’t open. I made it to my car, breathing a sigh of relief even as my throat ached with emotion.
I turned on the car, backed out of the driveway, and it was over.
Chapter Thirty-six
At the theatre the next day, I barely spoke to anyone. Rarely left the office unless I absolutely had to. Didn’t bother making my usual rounds. Just generally didn’t give a shit. I couldn’t even muster the energy to put my feet up on my desk as I always did.
Dylan gave up trying to shoot the breeze with me, and our employees avoided me like the plague. I hadn’t snapped at anyone, but they must have sensed the change in my demeanor. Even some of the less perceptive employees got the message quickly enough and got out of the office as fast as they could.
I wasn’t usually one to let my personal life interfere with my professionalism, but everyone has their breaking point. Like anyone else, I had been known to buckle when the weight on my shoulders became too much.
Ironically, I couldn’t really describe it as a weight on my shoulders. If anything, it was a weight off my shoulders, and that realization just made it hurt more. Knowing that I was better off without Nathan didn’t make it any easier to let him go.
I loved him, but love doesn’t do anyone a damned bit of good without trust, so I had to take my leave. It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. It was a relief.
But damn if didn’t hurt like hell.
The day crawled by, but was mercifully uneventful. Dylan took care of firing our resident thieves. He handled it partly because I’d fired the last person, and partly because he knew I simply lacked the energy to even engage an employee in a stern conversation, let alone terminate them.
The cursed projector managed to keep the reels turning all day without a problem, and for that I was especially grateful. Not only did I doubt my ability to concentrate enough to fix it, but doing so meant going into that room. For the first time, I regretted fooling around with Nathan in there, and wondered how long it would be before I could go into the projector room and ignore his ghost.
After the last showing cleared out and the theatre was cleaned and ready for the next day, everyone clocked out and left. I stayed behind, reconciling some ticket-sales figures in the box office. It could wait until tomorrow, but it gave me an excuse not to go back to my empty apartment just yet.
Someone knocked on the glass, and I glared at them through the opaque shade.
“What part of ‘closed’ don’t you people understand?” I muttered, keeping my voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry past the window. I shook my head and focused on the papers in front of me, ignoring a second and third knock on the glass. They’d get the message sooner or-
Clip-clap.
The metallic sound sent a shiver down my spine and my head snapped up. I stared at the drawn shade as if I expected to suddenly gain X-ray vision and see right through it. But I didn’t need to see through it.
Like the match being struck on the stage at Epidaurus, the sound of that Zippo lighter took my breath away. Never had a sound so small echoed so loudly through my consciousness. In my mind’s eye, the flame flickered to life, and something deep inside me did the same.
Clap.
With my heart in my throat, I reached for the pull on the window shade. I opened the shade and couldn’t breathe when sight confirmed what all my other senses already knew.
Nathan.
His back was to me, but he must have heard the shade, because he turned around, the cigarette stopping just inches from his parted lips. Our eyes met through the glass and the silver glow of the streetlights. His Adam’s apple bobbed once, then he took a drag off the cigarette and watched me through the thin stream of smoke he exhaled.