Page 14 of More Than My Hometown

“We are.”

His face is solemn, solid, and other than crossing his arms, he hasn’t moved a muscle. The teasing smirk is gone, but all that doubt is still there in those eyes. Shit, I should have insisted he eat first. This would have been better over food.

“Are you saying you weren’t serious about that pact?” I ask, my heart starting to race.

I’m not sure I want the answer. Because I was. Always have been. Deep down, I always thought he was too. If he wasn’t—or worse, he changed his mind—I’m not sure that’s an answer I can handle.

“I was when we were thirteen. But those are things you say and don’t actually collect on.”

My resolve cracks. “We swore it in ketchup.”

“Mais,” he sighs, stepping in closer to me. “Tell me what’s going on. The truth. It might’ve been years since we’ve seen each other, but I can still read you, and you’re not telling me something. I can see it all over your face.”

Emotion rises in my throat, settling right at the base, threatening to choke me. At least it’s not tears. I’ve already shed more of those than I can count recently, and don’t think I can bear to shed anymore.

If there is anyone on this earth I could cry to, it’s Ewan. He’s my person. Or, he was. The one, single being on this planet who would understand. That I could fall apart to in this way. That I could share all my inner thoughts and feelings to without judgment.

I want to tell him so badly. I want to bare my soul and break down and be nothing but a puddle. But I can’t. Something is still holding me back. Maybe it’s the not knowing if he’s all in too; I don’t know. Or maybe it’s simply having learned that I can’t be that person anymore. Either way, some secrets aren’t meant for sharing.

“I told you.” I clear my throat, regaining my composure. “My current contract was canceled, so since I was in between contracts and with everything going on here, and us on the eve of the birthday we agreed on, it all seemed like kismet.”

Ewan steps back, closing his eyes, his lips pressing into a hard, thin line. And my heart rips in half.

I know that look.

That isn’t anger. It’s much worse. It’s hurt. Pain. A straight shot to the heart.

Fuck…

“Gotcha…”

His voice is barely above a whisper, so low and soft I wouldn’t have heard it if I wasn’t listening for it. Nonetheless, it might as well have been the loudest thing I’ve ever heard.

“So, I’m just your backup plan? Your dream didn’t work out, and you happened to have this pact that we conveniently made with a household condiment as kids in your back pocket, so…here you are?”

Ouch…

Ewan Hayes has always been a man of few words. He chooses each one carefully, waiting for just the right moment to deliver them, and when he does, boom. Just like now.

Each one is a double-edged sword, dripping with both torment and venom. Making sure that I know how much he’s hurting, and inflicting it right back.

“Ewan, you are not a backup plan.”

You never were…

Tears prick the corner of my eyes, panic rising in me as I try to find a way to tell him everything I’ve wanted to since that moment after college. The one where I stupidly looked at him and told him that if he didn’t want to go with me, I’d go alone. And then did.

The moment I took a risk and picked wrong and have been paying for ever since.

How do you tell someone that walking away from them is the biggest mistake you’ve ever made?

“I gotta go,” Ewan says, nodding and pushing past me.

“What?”

I spin on my heel, moving so fast I make myself dizzy for a second. I look down at the to-go bag, then back up at his backside as he walks toward the door.

“I thought we were having lunch?”

“I have Munch,” he calls over his shoulder.

“You have what?”

He stops at the door, sighing heavily. He flexes his hands around the doorjamb, turning to me, his eyes so full of hurt.

“Munch.” He swallows hard, as if he’s trying to stop himself from saying something. “I’m sure Dennis would like the burger. He’ll eat pretty much anything you put in front of him.”

Another nod, and he’s gone, leaving me standing in the middle of the room, alone.

So much for kismet.