“You humiliated me,” she cries. Tears are spilling out of her eyes, catching the gleam from the moon out the window. “You called me a whore. I’m nothing to you. Just trash. You just use me because you can’t face your own shit.” Her voice is a strangled wheeze as she rails against my body, each hit coming down harder and harder.

If Ryder is listening from the hallway, I bet he’s really pleased to be hearing this.

Finally, when her swings slow down, I grab her arms and wrap her up against my body. She thrashes, pulling away, but I can’t let her go. I have to make her understand how sorry I am.

“If you have something to say, then fucking say it, Murph.”

“I’m sorry.” I plant a kiss on her face as she watches me, her tears wet against my lips. Then, she yanks away, pushing me to the floor.

“Fuck. You,” she spits at me. “I hate that phrase. ‘I’m sorry’ means nothing, Murph. Nothing. You think that makes it right?”

“I’m trying to apologize,” I yell from the floor.

“But it doesn’t mean anything. If you want to make it right, then talk to me. Tell me why you said that. Tell me I mean something to you. Tell me you were wrong or that I’m not just someone for you to fuck when your feelings are hurt.”

“Savannah,” I bark as I stand, but she’s got me under her thumb now, and she’s not letting me get out that easy. She stands there in her underwear, waiting for me to say something. But the words are all stuck. “I told you. I don’t know what this is between us, but I don’t want to hurt you. I feel terrible for what I said. I’m not good with words.”

“Well you seemed great with them earlier tonight.” Another tear streaks down her face taking the black makeup from her eyes with it. My heart is crushed in my chest.

“Of course that’s not fucking true. I was drunk. I fucked up.”

She lets out a huff, but her chest shakes on her next inhale, and I can see her caving. My arms ache with the need to hold her.

“I don’t want sex. I just want to hold you.”

Another long exhale escapes her mouth as she kneels on the bed between us, and I gather her up in my arms. She leans into my chest as I pull her down to the bed, stroking her hair back as I kiss her forehead.

She doesn’t kiss me back, and her arms don’t hold me as tight as they used to. This thing between us feels heavier than ever. For the first time ever, we do actually sleep instead of have sex, and it’s nice, but neither of us feel much better when we wake up.