Page 119 of Then You Happened
His sigh is heavy, and I hate that he doesn’t turn to look at me—not once. “What are we doing here, Tate?” He plays with a blade of grass, pulling it apart and letting the tiny pieces flutter to the ground.
Click.
“You tell me. You’re the one pushing me away. Being a dick. Closing me out.”
“You’re right. I am.”
I wasn’t expecting his blatant agreement, so it takes me a moment before I ask, “Why?”
“We’re . . . we’re us.” He barely glances my way, but it’s enough for me to see the pain in his eyes, and that causes worry to reverberate through me. “And pretty soon, I have to leave and be the man I swore I’d never be. I have to live the life that I promised myself I’d never live. It’s what I want, it’s what I need to do, but I don’t know . . .” He shakes his head. “So, not only am I having a hard time figuring out how I’m supposed to be those things but I also know that it’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch leaving you.”
Then don’t!
The words scream through my mind as the panic that’s been slowly building bubbles up.
I can’t tell him to stay, though. Jack has worlds to conquer. Things he needs to learn and become. There’s no way I can hold him back from that.
There’s no way I can tell him I’ve fallen in love with him.
There’s no way I can burden him with that.
“I’m a man who falls hard, Tate.” He picks up a rock and sidearms it so it skips three times across the water before sinking beneath the surface. “So, it’s easier if I don’t fall at all.”
“Okay.” I nod as if I understand, but I don’t.
“It’s just easier for me that way. In the past, the transient nature of my job made it easy for me. Moving on every few months.”
Look at me, Jack.
“But you’re heading home soon. You’ll have somewhere permanent.” Just getting the words out is half the battle because I’m secretly dying inside. Privately hating that I’ve let myself get so close to someone so fast. “What then?”
Let me see your eyes because your lips are moving, but I don’t believe you.
He shrugs. His profile against the lake stoic and unemotional. “Then I guess I’ll do what’s expected of me.”
I feel your kisses every night.
“Which is?”
I see the glances you steal of me.
“Get married. Have kids. Learn to be the man my dad expected me to be.”
I feel you.
“Wouldn’t he just want you happy?” I ask.
I know there’s more here.
“Yeah. I guess.”
Look at me, Jack.
“There are all kinds of versions of happy.”
“There are.” When he finally turns and looks at me, his eyes are miserable and his expression is pained. “But we live in two different worlds. I’d never ask you to walk away from this now that we’re on the cusp of success and I can’t walk away from mine. So, love and happiness don’t exactly get to factor into the equation.”
“You’re wrong, though.” I fight the desperation that laces the edges of my voice, but it’s still there. I told myself I couldn’t hold him back, ask him to stay, and yet that’s exactly what I want to do. Ask. Beg. Plead. “Happiness and love should always mean something.”
