Page 148 - It Ends with Us

“I’m so sorr y,” he says again. I pull back and hi s ey es are red and

I’ve nev er seen hi m look so sad. “I pani cked . I didn’t mea n to push
you away, I just pani cked . All I could thi nk about was the surger y
Mond ay and my ha nd and . . . I’m so sorr y.” He pres ses hi s mouth to
mine and brea thes me in.
He’s not like my fat he r. He can’t be. He’s nothi ng like that uncar ing
bas tard.

We’re both upset and kissing and conf used and sad. I’ve nev er fel t
any thi ng like thi s moment —so ugly and painf ul. But someho w the
onl y thi ng tha t ea ses the hu rt just caused by thi s man is thi s man. My
tea rs are soothed by hi s sorro w, my em otions soothed with hi s mouth
agains t mine, hi s ha nd gripping me like he nev er want s to let go.
I fee l his arms go around my waist and he picks me up, caref ully
step ping thro ugh the mes s we’v e made. I can’t tel l if I’m more

disappoint ed in hi m or mysel f. Him for losing hi s tem per in the firs t
place or me for someho w find ing comfort in hi s apology.
He carries me and kisses me all the way to my bed room. He’s still
kissing me when he lowers me to the bed and whi spers , “I’m sorr y,
Lily.” He moves hi s lips to the spot on my ey e tha t hi t the cabinet , and
he kisses me there. “I’m so sorr y.”

His mouth is on mine again, ho t and wet , and I don’t ev en kno w
wha t’s happeni ng to me. I’m hu rting so much on the ins ide, yet my
body craves hi s apology in the form of hi s mouth and ha nd s on me. I
want to lash out at hi m and rea ct like I always wish my mother would
ha ve rea cted when my fathe r hu rt her, but deep down I want to
bel iev e tha t it rea lly was an accident . R yle isn’t like my father. He’s
nothi ng like hi m.

I ne ed to feel hi s sorro w. His reg ret . I get both of thes e thi ng s in
the way he kisses me. I sprea d my leg s for hi m and hi s sorro w comes
in ano ther form. Slow, apologet ic thru sts ins ide of me. Ever y time he
ent ers me, he whi spers ano ther apology. And by some miracle, ev er y
time he pulls out of me, my anger lea ves with hi m.

• • •

He’s kissing my sho ulder. My cheek . My ey e. He’s still on top of me,

touchi ng me gent ly. I’ve nev er been touched like thi s . . . with such