Truce or Dare (Sweet Fortuity Book 1) (12 page)

* * *

A
nd with a realization
that left me reeling, I realized one thing: I wanted him. Still.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t come here to rekindle our relationship. I came here expecting to leave after a few weeks, and that was it.

It was like my brain just turned to mush whenever I was around him. I didn’t like the loss of control, but I was helpless against the strong pull between us.

I knew almost with a certainty that this wasn’t going to go anywhere good. And yet, still, I couldn’t help but think of last night.

It was fire, pure and simple.

But it was more.

I connected with him on a level I never had with anyone else. Before I knew it, it had turned into something else, something bigger. I didn't know what the hell to do with it.

* * *

Being in the same small space as him after last night, it felt as if it heightened my awareness of him, if that was even possible.

I went to my room we never made it to, as I wanted to grab my slippers.

“You can stay here if you want–” But it turned out it was unnecessary, because he followed me all the way to my room. “Never mind. Welcome to my room of doom.”

His eyes scanned the room cautiously “Should I expect spiders?”

I was unable to stop the grin that crept on my face. “Why won’t you come inside and find out.”

I had pens, notebooks, proof copies of my books strewn all over the foot of my bed. I’d been in the middle of one of my brainstorming moments before Chase rang me about the dinner.

He thumbed through a bound one and looked impressed.

“Character notes? Food they want to eat to clothes they like to wear? All color-coded too.”

“I lose track of details in the space of a couple of months, so I tend to write them down. That one was difficult to write,” I said as I saw him examining the folder. “It had an alcoholic father, so then I had to trace the family history. When they all pile up, I need the color so I can easily find what I’m looking for. I’m sure it’s here somewhere…” I rifled through some loose paper, and felt a rectangular lump somewhere underneath. “Bingo.”

“This is amazing.” There was awe in his tone, and I looked over my shoulder with a smile.

I was proud of my work. Maybe I've gotten too absorbed in it, but it was the only way I knew how to express how I felt without exploding.

"It's all I have."

A pause before he dropped it like a bomb. "You had me."

There it was. I knew it was going to bubble over at some point. It had to, to have been bottled up for so long. The tension was so thick, I think I stopped breathing.

He was going to talk about this
now
? After telling me to honor our deal?

“You want to talk about this now?” I found myself saying.

"You had me. Or maybe it hadn’t mattered all that much to you.” He kept his expression blank, and I felt as if he pulled the rug from my feet.

What?

It came to me all of a sudden, that time his dad gave him hell and I was running to get the groceries because my mom was working, and there was no more food stocked at home. We both stopped in our tracks, wide-eyed as if we realized at that precise moment what we had in common. It sent a shiver through me, like a moment our souls recognized its match.

Then the time he bought me cakes when I told him I've never had one for my birthday. He didn't laugh at me, or judge me and the type of family I had. And when my birthday came, he didn't just buy a big one from a shop and give it to me; he bought me eighteen cupcakes, all with a purple candle on them as he pressed me to make a wish, the first person who ever really let me dream. And I thought what I had was so precious I wanted to hold on to it tight, as long as I could, because he just wedged himself a little deeper in my heart.

We were good friends before we became anything more. He was everything, and yet he never knew or understood how deep that bond ran. How much it meant to me.

It all came rolling down on me, the weight of his words, and the meaning it implied.

Gem. Patrick. Last night. God, last night. I made a huge mistake.

I didn't care about him? I flung a pillow towel at him, but he put an arm up in time. A hand raised up defensively, blocking it.

"I cannot believe you just said that." I grabbed the other pillow and threw it next. Then I flung the tissue box. He dodged every one. "I held it in, because of your stupid deal. You told me not to talk about it, then you come and rip the wound right open. Congrats, asshole."

"Sherr–"

But I stepped away, like his touch would burn me. Because I suspected he would have, with just a single touch, scorched every inch of it, until all that was left were ashes.

I was done.

* * *

C
racks
.

I couldn't take any more punches.

Each word a solid blow, ripping me open as he struck.

We were standing on rocky ground to begin with, but it felt like a sense of betrayal when he brought it up.

I got it. I deserved it. But I was so done blaming myself for everything.

God, I was so tired of pretending to be okay. Pretending that everything didn't matter and I'd move on and be all right.

I wasn't. And I didn't know if I'd ever be.

After last night, I thought we were moving forward. Underneath the desire, there was something else. Something deeper. Something I thought was real.

And although I hadn't dared to dream about it in a long time, I felt something in me slowly die.

It wasn't until I stepped over a branch that I realized that in my hurry, I hadn't worn any shoes. Something scratched my heel, then the side of my foot. I paid no attention.

Was that what he thought of me all along? Had he even really cared? Or had he done it to get back on me?

I realized what he said hadn’t just hurt me. Part of me had been disappointed. I had a tiny hope, a hope that had grown into something else a few hours ago, only to realize I had to quash it.

And for the first time since I came here, the tears poured out, like a dam. I don’t think I could’ve stopped it if I’d tried.

I cried until there was nothing left in me.

I cried even when I didn’t understand why. There was no more mask, no more facade. It dropped off completely, and in those moments, I felt too raw.

All my fears, all my disappointments, all my failures, and all my regrets. All that we never became.

Despite it all, I felt a moment of clarity.

Good things didn’t last. Not for me.

I knocked. Kate opened the door, surprised, with Haley trailing behind her. She hugged me, the smell of chocolate and cinnamon, and a sense of comfort I felt bone-deep.

"
S
herr
? Oh my God, you're bleeding. Where are your shoes?" Kate asked.

"Please don't let him come in, don't let him come in,” I found myself repeating like a mantra.

Puzzled, Haley asked, "Who?"

Kate knew. Her eyes didn't miss anything. “It’s Chase, isn’t it?”

At the mention of his name, I shut my eyes and nodded.

I heard Kate mutter a string of curses.

“I’ve never heard you swear that much.” For some reason I found that funny.

“You’re shaking,” Kate muttered. After shuffling footsteps, I felt something heavy and warm drape over my shoulders. I looked and found it was a folded flannel sheet.

I smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

A look of concern crossed Haley’s face.

“I’m sorry,” I heard her say regretfully. “I want you to understand, I’d never have tried to push you together so hard if I thought he’d hurt you like this.”

I nodded in acknowledgement, holding her hand, letting her know I understood.

But I couldn’t say a word, as if by saying something, it would all come out and I would never recover.

* * *

I
heard hushed whispers
. I heard people come in and out. Sierra. Eva. Wes.

“Never seen her look like this,” came Paula’s voice, deeply concerned.

“Me neither,” Haley replied.

“I don’t know what he did to her, but he better expect to be deaf by the end of today,” I heard Kate say. I’d never heard her sound so stern. Not in a while.

I heard a knock from the door.

“Oh my God, he’s here,” I heard Haley say. “What do we do?”

Their voices were muffled.

A little while later, I heard the door unlock. Then the door shut. Their voices were raised so I could hear them, even though they were muffled.

"Chase," Kate warned.

"I just need to talk to her," I heard him say.

"This isn't a good time."

He said something, and then I heard the door shut firmly.

* * *

I
had
a warm cup of tea in my hand as Paula arranged photos in her album. The radio played softly in the background, a song I didn’t recognize. She mentioned traveling Europe around a year ago, and I let her steady, even voice wash over me as she told me about the places she visited.

I closed my eyes, just listening, wanting to forget.

* * *

T
hunder roared in the clouds
, the wind harsh and biting cold. It seemed to magnify the tumultuous emotions that were bubbling inside me.

I recognized this place. How? As I ran a hand over a familiar bench, I felt sick in my stomach.

I knew what was coming.

I didn’t know which was worse, that I was prepared for it, or that I had to go through it again.

We came here a lot. It was our place, the one we kept coming back to, because it was quiet and the view was stunning.

My feet moved forward, leading me to him.

He was there alone, sitting down on a grassy patch.

I needed to apologize. I walked up to him, but his eyes were dull. He stood back up when he saw me approach. He was looking at the ground, the distance behind me, anywhere but at me.

He wouldn't look at me. Why wouldn't he look at me?

I laid a hand on his shoulder, willing him to understand, but he moved away. My hand dropped, and I stared at it, unable to comprehend the action.

I felt the distance keenly. I've seen this man worried, concerned, hurt, even angry, but not a lot of them were directed at me.

"I don't think we want the same things."

I shook my head. “It’s not that–"

"I think it's exactly what it is."

"Are you breaking up with me?" My voice cracked, but I didn't have it in me to care.

I felt a raindrop land on my cheek. My shoulder. My hand. I ignored it.

"Maybe we aren't right for each other."

Was this really happening? How could he say that? I tugged at his shirt, panic spreading in my chest.

"I love you," I said in earnest. "I don't want to lose what we have. Please don't do this."

A look crossed his face that said he was done with this conversation.

"I think you should go, Sherr."

I couldn't breathe. It was swallowing me whole. I knew he didn't mean it in the way I was thinking of doing, but it hurt all the same.

This person, who I loved and trusted with my life didn't want me. I told him no, and he made it permanent. The shame and guilt warred with the hurt, that of all things he could say to me, this blow hit me the hardest.

I didn’t want to let go. I wanted him to tell me everything was going to be okay.

But it wasn’t.

Because he gave me nothing.

"Is that what you really want?" My voice sounded thin and hollow, but at this point, I couldn't even pretend to be okay.

A nod, almost imperceptible. Just as soon as he took a few steps away, he halted. Then he looked up at the sky, then to me, "A storm's coming. Better go home soon."

Even when I'd hurt him, he still thought of me. Always.

I didn’t think my answer would change what we had. I believed in that, even counted on it. Hurting him was the last thing I wanted to do. But I did it anyway, hurt the person I loved the most, because that was what I did.

And I learned, as the rain beat down hard on the ground, and on me, this was what happened when you let someone take care of you. When you laid your hopes and dreams out to them and loved them enough to have them take it in their very hands. When you loved them enough to leave, because they deserved better, they deserved more.

You had them. You lost them. All in the space of a heartbeat.