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I’ll be better.
I won’t give up, and he’ll come back…
And he’ll stay.
Oh fuck.
“Mason?”
I clear my throat roughly, and lower my hand, moving my jaw around to ward off the emotion suddenly barreling through me. I nod jerkily. “I’m fine. Sorry, just…” I rub my forehead.
Jeremy doesn’t say anything right away, but I feel his penetrating gaze, and I hate that like always, I’ve steered the attention onto my issues.
This isn’t fucking about me.
With that reminder, I shake out my arms, and nod. “So what’s our other option?”
Jeremy’s brows are knitted with a deep frown when I settle my eyes on his face.
“You’re right,” I tell him. “We can’t go that route. We can’t risk it.”
The words taste like ash in my mouth.
I can’t lose him…fuck, I can’t lose him.
His lips thin into a white line and he nods. I don’t miss the fracture of something in his gaze, but he quickly recovers, burying it so fast, I can’t be sure I didn’t just imagine it.
“There’s a study abroad program my school announced a couple weeks ago,” he says, and my brow furrows at the unexpected subject change. “It’s for art students. It’s in Europe. It’s for next semester.”
“Okay…”
“And I…I think I’m gonna take it.” His carriage rises with his inhale, and he stands a little taller, lifting his chin. “I didn’t even consider it at first because…because, well, it would mean there’d be a whole ocean separating us if something happened. If you…if you needed me, if you relapsed, and?—”
“Go.”
The word wrenches out of me before I’ve even really processed what he’s saying.
Jeremy’s lips press together tightly once more, and he holds himself stock-still.
“Go,” I choke out, forcing the word out. Despite how much it pains me to do so.
Forehead creasing, he slowly shakes his head, and says, “I don’t need your permission.”
A broken sound leaves me, half-laugh, half-sob. So fucking stubborn.
But he’s also not wrong.
“This isn’t me giving it to you. This is me telling you. Go.” I bore my eyes into his, ensuring he sees just how serious I am. Serious and desperate for him to do this—to leave—if only so he’ll one day come back.
His face bunches, hurt shining in his eyes, and I realize what he’s probably thinking. What it sounds like. And before I can help myself, I step forward, and clutch his shoulders.
He sucks in a startled breath.
“It’s okay. I’ll be okay,” I tell him thickly. I force a smile, my vision blurring. And I give him a small nod. “You need to do this. I see that now. Just like when you went to college.”
His jaw quivers.
“You should’ve never fucking stayed here to begin with, and I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel trapped. Like you had to keep coming back, when we both know how much you hate this place.”
