𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑟-𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑

Love

Rafe's POV

I help Abby off of my bike and stay next to her as we walk inside the restaurant. It's only been a few days since she was shot, and she didn't want to wait to talk. I told her to have dinner with me only 17 hours ago in the heat of the moment, but I didn't actually want her to do it tonight. I wanted to wait until she was healed, but it's clear she wants to talk now or get this over with.

She wears a beautiful black dress with her hair swept down, dangling along her lower back and somehow manages to wear five-inch heels without tripping.

My heart twists as I look at her. So beautiful. Even when she didn't try and was in nothing but sweats with her hair tied up, she was so beautiful.

We take a seat at our booth and order drinks. I stick with a water, not wanting to even mention any type of drug or drink around her in fear of it influencing her decision.

She orders a water as well because she won't risk harming the baby even though I can tell that she wants to down a bottle of vodka.

We each order our food and finish it in total silence. Only when dessert comes does she finally look up at me and speak. "Talk."

"I think this would go better if you asked me what you wanted to know," I tell her, and she nods. I can tell that she is still sad. Her face remains forever masked and cold, but I know she's still torn apart. Every night, she cried herself to sleep. I heard it every time I walked past her door. I still see the pain behind her eyes no matter how hard she tries to mask it.

And I hate myself for doing that to her. I hate myself and I always will. I still cut my wrists so I can stop feeling the pain and the guilt and the longing, but she doesn't need to know that. I know that she would feel guilt for it even though she holds absolutely no responsibility for my self-harm.

"How did you make the video look real? Your style, your hair, the tv—all of it made me think the video was actually taken months ago," she says.

"I changed the setting on the tv to make the date change. It was a new Apple TV so it's possible. I just slicked my hair back and grabbed a t-shirt that I often wore six months ago. I made sure to shake my hands just a little as if I were high too, and I had all my friends agree. I paid them to agree to it," I answer. It's nothing but the truth. Everything that comes out of my mouth tonight will be nothing but complete honesty. She deserves nothing less. I just hope that she can trust what I'm telling her. If she won't accept the truth, then this whole dinner is pointless.

She nods her head and takes a large swig of her water, most likely wishing it was alcohol. I don't blame her.

"And the cocaine?" she asks. I swallow at her question. This is a more difficult question to answer. It's easy to answer physically, but difficult at the same time. "I did it to seal the deal," I answer, ripping off the Band-Aid. "And then I kept doing it to convince myself to stay away from you. To not go back so I could protect you. It was impossible to stay away from you. It was hard enough staying away from you alone, but when I found out about the baby, I wanted to take everything I said back and hold you, never letting you go. I knew I had to do something to take away that feeling, or I would put you and the baby in danger."

"Have you done it since then?" she asks, and I shake my head. I haven't. I've been too busy slitting my wrists and making sure she's okay and let me tell you, self-harm is a much better form of coping than drugs.

"I'll go through withdrawal soon, but I don't expect you to help. I'll get through it." She shakes her head. "I'll help. I may not be sure I'm going to be with you again but that doesn't mean I will let you destroy yourself, especially since you're going to be in the baby's life. He or she will need a stable father."