Tears leak from the corners of his eyes. “I missed you so fucking much. I hated myself for it—stilldo. Now you’re back and it hurts more than when you were just a memory because I don’t know you anymore.”
I can’t breathe around the gaping wound in my chest.
Silence descends.
His breathing slows.
I brush a lock of hair from his forehead. His eyelids flutter.
“Let’s get you to bed.”
He allows me to drag his deadweight to the bedroom which is decorated in shades of navy and grey; a few framed scenic shots of his favorite hidden beach spots line the walls. He collapses in bed with a groan, curling on his side as Mitz hops onto the pillow.
I perch on the edge of the bed and watch him drift off.
“I missed you too,” I whisper. “So much it drove me to madness.” My eyes sting, emotion clogging my throat as I run my fingers through his tousled brown waves. “I meant what I said. I didn’t want to leave you. It was like ripping my heart out.” I stand on unstable legs. “I couldn’t stay, and I want to tell you why but I’m afraid. So fucking afraid… and as much as I want you to know who I am now, I won’t burden you unless you ask.”
A tiny line forms between his brows while the rest of his features slacken. I’m shattering as I brush my lips over hisforehead. Soft skin and the scent of his shampoo smother me in a wave of nostalgia. A past I’m not able to relive. A present I’m forced to endure. A future I'm not allowed to share.
"Ask me, baby,” I choke, “Ask why I broke our promise.”
But he doesn’t because he’s fast asleep.
19
Win
Six Years Ago
Fine white sand filters through my fingers, slipping like time through an hourglass. The grey sky kisses the horizon, dismal navy waves retreating with the tide.
I've decided I don’t hate the beach when it’s cold. Or when Remy is sprawled out on the blanket beside me, lips puffy from kissing. I’d stay on this strip of sand and sea, fused to his perfect mouth forever if given the option.
Curious fingers creep under the hem of my shirt as the wind whips the cotton higher to expose more skin. A lazy grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. I snap a mental picture of it. Ever since returning to school after break, his smile has been a rare sight.
“How did your parents take it when you came out?” he asks out of nowhere, tracing the tattooed rose on my side beneath my tee.
He’s barely touching me and I’m ready to blow.
Tone it down, Win.
I shake my head. “Mom said she always knew. Richard didn’t care.”
He props up on an elbow. “And your dad?”
“I came out to him first, right after they finalized the divorce. He thought I was upset about Mom moving, but they’d been separated for a few years by then and I was used to it. It took some convincing for him to believe I just was scared to admit I liked boys.”
Remy smirks, falling into contemplative silence. He chews his lip. “I don’t think my parents will care.” His warm palm cups my waist. “I mean, Ma already worships you, so she’ll probably be insufferable when I tell her we’re together.”
Lucy Sullivan is the definition of involved and supportive, but what he’s implying makes my stomach twist. It’s like being at the top of a rollercoaster, waiting for the drop.
“So we’re…togethertogether?”
He blushes. “I don't know about you but I'm not messing around with anyone else, so… yeah.”
“That’s what we're calling this? Messing around?”
The pink in his cheeks deepens. “No,” he huffs, “You know what I mean.”
