“I’m fine.” He shifts the phone. “I didn’t call to talk about my face.”
I swallow hard. Even through the bruises, the gold specks in his brown eyes stand out and draw me in. I’m nervous, but he still manages to make me feel safe, even when I suspect we’re about to say goodbye forever.
“Please,” he says quietly. “Just answer the question. Why, Lola? None of it adds up to me. Help it make sense to me,please.”
I pull my knees to my chest under the covers. My mouth opens, and nothing comes out at first, but he’s not going to let this go, not this time. I have to say something.
“You had this huge future. I thought I was letting you go. Daniel—” I freeze and feel my face heat. “I didn’t want to be a distraction. You carry your emotions out on the ice, and I didn’t want to stand in your way.”
“What were you going to say about Daniel?”
“I…nothing. I was just…I don’t know.”
His brows furrow. “So you walked away because you didn’t want to be a distraction. Instead of talking it through and letting me know your concerns, you just chose for me?”
“I didn’t want to ruin things, Tully.”
He makes a frustrated sound. “That’s not an answer. That’s a deflection. Try again.”
I force myself to meet his eyes on the screen. They’rebloodshot, the good one rimmed red, but still so steady it hurts. I remember those eyes looking at me like I was something worth keeping, back when I still believed I was.
“You had this whole future, and I had…tattoo shop dreams. I thought if I let you go first, it would hurt less. It didn’t. But I was willing to hurt if it meant you thrived.”
His mouth parts, and I wait, thinking he’s going to say something, but he just waits.
“And Nantucket…” My voice cracks again. I hate it. “It was perfect, just like we’ve always been. But I thought we were on the same page with that…”
“You didn’t give me the chance to decide anything,” he says finally. Quiet. “You’ve decided for both of us. Twice now.”
“You’re right.”
“So why text me back last night?” He leans closer to the camera, bruises shifting in the light. “If you’re so sure you ruin everything, why tell me you still love me? Why say you always will?”
My eyes burn. I blink hard. “Because it’s true. And because I was drunk enough to forget I’m supposed to protect you from me.”
He exhales, long and shaky. “I don’t need protecting from you, Lola. I need you to stop running. I need you to let me choose. And I need to know what fucking happened.” His breath hitches. “What happened to that girl who had more confidence in her pinkie than I did in my whole body? And I wasn’t lacking.” He lets out a laugh that sounds anguished, and tears stream down my face. “What happened to the girl who knew what she wanted and went after it? That’s why I’m having a hard time reconciling who I thought you were with what you’re saying now, because the Lola I knew never would’ve thought she was unworthy ofanyone.”
I laugh, and it sounds more like a sob. “Life happened, Tully.”
He sits up straighter. “Okay. I can believe that. What did life do to you, Lola? What did it do to us?”
I shake my head, pressing my lips together.
“You said you’ll never stop loving me. You said that last night. Did you mean that?” His eyes drill into mine.
My heart is pounding too hard, too fast.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Because I love you too. And I’ll never stop. I’ve tried.” He smiles sadly and then winces when his lip breaks open and a fresh line of blood forms. “I’m tired of half-answers. I want the truth, and I want to know what happened to you. Because whether you and I are together or not, I can’t stand the thought of you feeling unworthy…of anyone.” His voice cracks. “It’s like your spirit has been crushed, and you’re just accepting it.” He shakes his head. “When all is said and done, you can walk away from me again, but I need you to tell me where you went. Who knocked you down so far that you believe you don’t deserve my kindness? I know I said all that about not being your fuckboy anymore, but…the truth is, no matter what we do to hurt one another, we still deserve each other’s kindness.”
I’m crying silently, tears sliding hot down my cheeks.
“I’m so sorry that I’ve hurt you,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “When I saw you in Nantucket, I just couldn’t stay away. Even though I knew I should.”
He closes his eyes for a second, like the words physically hurt.
“Then stop,” he says. “Stop hurting me. Stop staying away.”
