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I’m trying my best, Sky.One simple sentence that says so much. I know exactly what he means because I’m trying my best too.
Trying my best to act like he hasn’t consumed my thoughts for the past three years. Trying my best to not think about how things could have been different. Trying my best to get through this trip without breaking.
There have been many times when I’ve asked myself why I walked away from him three years ago. I can come up with all the excuses in the world. I can tell myself that it was because he was my boyfriend’s brother, but deep down I know the truth.I was afraid.
I was terrified of how one person could make me feel the depth of emotions that he did. I was scared to allow myself to be loved in the way that he wanted to love me.
My whole life, I’ve been content with being content. And I knew if I let Everett in, I would never be satisfied with being content again. I would be handing my heart to a man who could easily rip it to irreparable shreds.
I was scared of how I felt then, and I’m even more terrified now.
Everett furrows his brows, his eyes flickering between mine like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. His fingers tremble at his sides as he takes another step back before swiping his jacket from the bed.
He clears his throat, walking to the door and holding it open for me. I take a second to let my eyes roam the length of his body. He just stands there with his hand wrapped around the doorknob, allowing me to take him in.
To an outsider, our silent gazes would probably seem weird. But to us, it’s like a breath of fresh air. We’ve deprived ourselves of each other for so long, avoiding even quick glances at family functions.
I can’t explain it… but it just feels so fucking good to see him again,reallylook at him after three years.
A loud grumble sounds from Everett’s stomach, breaking our trance. He’s still wearing his hoodie and flannel combo, looking ruggedly handsome.
“We better get going,” I chuckle. “I don’t want to deal with a hangry Everett on top of the day we’ve had.”
“Honestly, I can barely stand myself when I’m hangry,” he scoffs. “I’m just waiting on you.” He arches a brow, holding the door open as he steps out into the frigid air. Tiny little snowflakes melt as they land on his warm cheeks.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I exhale, grabbing my jacket before heading for the door.
He gulps, diverting his eyes away from me.Maybe that wasn’t my best choice of words.
I smile at him awkwardly as he closes the door behind us.
* * *
“I hope you enjoy.I’ll be back in a bit to check in.” Our waitress smiles before placing our food on a wooden table covered in vinyl stickers.
“Thank you,” Everett replies, lifting his full pint of beer. His second pint of beer…
Honestly, I have no room to judge because I’m on my second vodka soda of the night. After the day we’ve had, we deserve to have a few drinks.
However, we should probably stop ourselves after this… I barely trust myself sober around Everett, so adding alcohol to the mix is definitely not my brightest idea.
“Damn… this is good,” Everett groans, nodding his head as he chews his burger.
Our waitress bragged about how the burger is the best item on the menu, so we ordered it without a second thought. I think about how Elliot would probably do a three-day juice cleanse if he had burgers twice in one day.
Speaking of Elliot, it dawns on me that he hasn't reached out to me once today, not even just to check-in. I haven’t reached out to him either, but it’s been a hectic day to say the least.
I’m supposed to arrive at our hotel in a few hours, and he hasn’t called or texted me once. Everett and I have been traveling through a literal winter storm, and my fiancé has no idea where we are or if we’re okay.
My emotions must be painted across my face because Everett sets down his burger, folding his arms over his chest.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, furrowing his brows.
“It’s nothing,” I mumble, fidgeting with a fry.
“You were starving like ten minutes ago,” he voices. “You’ve barely touched your food. Instead, you're scooting it around your plate like a kid.” He scoffs, watching the way I’m pushing around my fries like they’re Brussels sprouts.I hate Brussels sprouts.
“What is it? You were fine like two minutes ago,” he pushes.
