Page 99 of The Time It Takes
“You broke your board,” Oliver states in a low voice. I look over at him. He’s still wearing the clothes I last saw him in. He eyes the cut on my thigh, and I watch his jaw twitch. “And you’re bleeding, Jesus, Willow. What were you thinking?” He reaches out his hand to observe my injury further, but I jerk my leg away from him. He frowns down at me in confusion.
I keep my face neutral even while my heart is being ripped into shreds. “Where did you go for an entire year after I left?”
His brows drop at my question before he sighs, bringing his eyes toward the crashing waves. “What’s this really about?” he asks calmly.
I feel nothing but defeat when I say, “Please just answer the question.”
Oliver glances down at my lips as if he wonders if now is an appropriate time to shut me up with a kiss. The thing is, I wouldn’t stop him and that’s the problem. What if this has been nothing but a quick fix for him? I don’t want to be a fragile memory anymore. I want to be the real thing. I wantus, but what if Phoebe is right? What if I wake up tomorrow and suddenly feel like running?
No, I tell myself.You lost two things on the same night, Willow. Those things were not your choice, but anything that comes after is. The words belonged to my therapist. I take in those words again as I watch Oliver closely as if my very being depends on it.
After a deep breath, he finally tells me, “I went to New York. I wanted to be there in case you needed anything.”
My head draws back. “You mean in case I neededyou?” My question sounds more like an accusation, but I don’t mean it that way. I’m just surprised and unsure why he never approached me. I didn’t know he came after me.
He nods as he drags his eyes to mine, the wind batting his hair back and forth—his eyes dim against the growing night. I reach out and grab his pinky with mine. He’s looking at me like I’m his world and I’m going to destroy it.
He always looks at me in a way that no one else ever has. As if the stars dance in my very eyes—my brown, impossibly boring eyes and though this man is everything that I want, he is everything I don’t know how to hold. His love is liquid and all I have are my flimsy stupid hands.
Stupid.
Stupid.
Stupid.
I’m such a fool to be loved by him and not know what to do with it. I’m an utter fool. I always have been when it comes to him.
“You got her a ring.” His grip loosens on my pinky, so I tighten mine.
“Will, I—”
I smile softly. “It’s okay,” I tell him. I lift his hand to my lips and kiss the spot where our fingers loop together. The concern in his eyes turns grave.
“Don’t you dare push me away,” he blurts, his voice panicked.
I shake my head quickly. “I’m not. I promise I’m not.”
He relaxes some, but not much. “Then what are you doing?” His voice is low and cautious.
“I just want you to be happy,” I whisper.
“Youmake me happy,” he says quietly, and yet it’s laced with a hint of uncertainty. “I never got the ring. I said I’d come by to pick it up, but I never did.”
I blink. “What?”
He shakes his head and looks at me as if the answer should be obvious. “I couldn’t.”
“Why?” I need to hear it.
“One would think ten years is enough time to let someone go, but even that wasn’t enough. You know why?”
Hesitating a little, I shake my head.
He scoffs, but he doesn’t seem irritated, just exhausted. “I waited for you for so long and it killed me. You know, I haven’t even picked up a book since you left. I couldn’t surf, I couldn’t laugh, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t do anything without seeing you do those things with me.” There was no accusation in his words, only potent grief of no longer being in reach of something that used to stand directly in front of him. “I can’t live without knowing you. I can’t do anything without the thought of you. I’ve stuck to my promise, and I’ve been waiting for you to uphold yours. You think that you don’t make me happy, but you do. I am half a man without you next to me. I am half a soul and all I’ve wanted to do is make you happy too.”
I swallow and try to control my breathing. I try to think of everything he said, but my mind is still stuck on the falseness of one thing. “I don’t, Ollie. I make you sad and I hate it. I hate that loving me has caused you so much pain.”
He releases my pinky to stand and explodes—his voice like steel. “It hurts because it’s too much and not entirely enough! You only hurt me when you leave me. So, it’s simple, don’t. Don’t you dare leave me again, Will. It willbreakme.” There is so much raw emotion in his voice that it cracks.
