Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ripley
“Another one?”
I glance up at the very cute bartender. He’s blonde, blue-eyed, and looks like he needs a step-stool to reach the bottles on the top shelf. Just my type, apparently.
I nod but drop my eyes back to my drink before he can wink at me again like he did earlier. As much as the blatant eye-fucking is doing wonders for my bruised self-esteem, I’m so done with tiny, attractive Seattleites.
Third time’s the charm, message received, aye-aye, Captain, and whatever other catchphrase means I fully understand and finally accept Seth and I are nothing, have always been nothing, will forever be nothing.
I won’t ever have to see him again aside from Cary and Thea’s next big moments.
With any luck, it won’t be for a while, like maybe not until their funerals.
Oof, I’ve gone to the dark place.
In truth, I thought I’d be sadder. Mostly I’m just numb. I thought I’d be devastated again or at the very least angry, but my insides feel like static. It seems I’ve left the last of my emotions at Seth’s feet right before I put on my shoes and exited his apartment.
I swallow back the last of my drink as the bartender delivers a fresh pour of the airport swill.
A couple more of these and I’ll have a nice buzz going that I can maintain well into next week.
I estimate Thea’s going to give me about five to seven business days before she starts threatening to find a new distiller and best friend.
Lucky for her, I can’t put off bottling much longer, so I have to get back to work at some point.
I snagged a ticket for a flight tomorrow afternoon, but I’m on standby if a seat opens up earlier.
Seeing as it’s after 11 p.m., I have a feeling I’ll be looking for a cozy corner to sleep in tonight; fuck if I’m wasting any more money on this mess of a trip by getting a hotel room for the night. It’ll only remind me of him anyway.
I’m mindlessly watching the Seattle Sting and Chicago Thunder battle it out on the ice on the TV above the bar when the bartender says, “What can I get you?”
I glance over at him, confused, but he’s talking to someone behind me.
“Thank God you’re still here.” The words come in between pants, like the man who spoke them ran a marathon before arriving at the airport bar. But that voice—even winded and strained—I recognize that voice from all of my dreams.
I whirl around to find Seth, jacket in one hand, shoes and belt in the other. His hair is ruffled, and his chest moves up and down with his rapid breaths. The blue of his eyes shining but also filled with mild terror. Regardless, they seize mine, rooting me to the spot.
“Hi,” I croak out. I clear my throat and push my glasses up my nose before running a palm through my hair, trying to tame it.
Why is he here? This is a new move for him, unprecedented. As much as I didn’t want to see or hear from him again, in the back of my mind, I hoped for another “You up?” text in a few weeks. If only to ignore it and leave him on read.
Who am I kidding, I’d respond like the pathetic good boy I am.
“Hi,” he says, relief washing over his face. I guess he was expecting a different reaction from me.
“Why are you he—” I start, looking around like this may be some sort of prank. My heart is pounding in my chest, and maybe it’s the alcohol, but I’m suddenly feeling faint.
Seth drops his things on the stool beside me and grabs my hands. His tremble as he grips me, rooting me to the spot.
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so scared, but please don’t leave.
Don’t leave… me.” His words run together, all said in one breath, like they burst out of him of their own volition.
I’m vaguely aware of the bartender stepping away to the far side of the counter, giving us some semblance of privacy.
Don’t leave him? He told me to go. If it weren’t for him basically tossing me out of his place, I’d be shackled to his bed right now.
All of my emotions flared when I saw him, and now too many war inside me. I’m annoyed because he’s insinuating this is somehow my decision, but I’m also relieved to have him here and wary he’ll disappear again.
Seth steps closer, and I think he’s about to hug me, kiss me maybe, but instead he leans over, picks up my drink, and downs it, making a face at the cheap burn.
“Yeah, it’s no RED,” I say.
He chuckles before clearing his throat and wiping at his mouth, putting the now empty tumbler down before he grips my hands in both of his again. His eyes lock on mine, and he says, “What I’m trying to say is I love you. I’m in love with you. It scares me so much. You scare me so much.”
“Wh—what?” My mind is a jumbled mess. This might be everything I ever wanted to hear from him, but the whiplash between what happened at his apartment three hours ago and now is sudden and confusing.
“I’m sorry I keep pushing you away, I’m a coward, but I want to change. I want to be all the things you want and need. And I don’t want to hide.” He squeezes my fingers to emphasize his point.
“But… but your dad? Your sisters?”
“My dad can’t possibly hate me any more than he already does.
And my sisters will be eighteen in a couple of years.
I’ll have them come live with me.” I watch as his face changes into the one he wears when he’s in business mode.
His gaze has drifted, and I can practically see the gears turning.
“With us. We’ll have to get a bigger place, your house won’t fit all of us. ”
“My house?” Whoa there, cowboy. Hold your horses.
“But they’ll be going to school, so they’ll only be home for holidays and summers, so maybe we can make it work.
” I’m fairly certain he’s no longer speaking to me, lost in planning our future apparently.
“The biggest hurdle will be sharing the one bathroom. Maybe a small addition… I’ll have to run some numbers. ”
“Can we pause for a second? And take a few steps back?”
His eyes land on me, expectant.
“You love me?”
His smile emerges like the sun sliding out from behind a cloud. “Yeah, I love you,” he says with a nod.
“And you’re sorry?”
“I’m so fucking sorry.”
“And you want to live with me? In Indigo Hill? South Carolina?” I clarify.
“Uh, yeah,” he says sheepishly like he just realized he moved himself and his sisters in without asking me first. “If you’ll have me. But even if you don’t want that yet, I want to make this work.”
“So what I’m hearing is you’re kind of obsessed with me, huh?”
My smug smile earns me a playful eyeroll.
“Okay, nevermind. Have a safe flight.” He lets go of my hands and turns to walk away in his socked feet, but I jump off my bar stool and grab his arm, preventing his escape.
“No, no, no. No take-backsies. You love me. You want to move in and get married and have babies,” I tease.
“Whoa, who said anything about babies?”
“Marriage: okay; babies: maybe. Noted.” I pull him flush to me, our hips slotting together, my arms wrapping loosely around his neck. I run my fingers lazily through the soft hair on the back of his head, at the same time as his comforting, expensive smell envelopes me.
We stay like that, just taking in the moment, out in the open, not hiding for once.
Granted, the terminal is deserted aside from the bartender, but it’s something.
At least there’s one man witnessing that Seth is now mine, and I’m his.
Would it be weird if I asked him to take a photo to commemorate it?
“You can’t run again,” I murmur, trying to sound like I’m serious and not begging. “I can’t deal with it again. It’s going to be hard enough to figure out how to be openly gay in Indigo Hill, I can’t be worrying about you losing your shit and disappearing.”
“No more running. I’m in this. I’m here for the hard things.” There’s conviction in his voice, yet I can’t help but smirk. Reading my dirty mind, he says, “Stop it.”
“But just remember, I know where you live now, and Brooks owes me a favor.”
A flash of concern crosses Seth’s face, and I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in I don’t know how long.
Seth smiles too and pulls me closer, his hand on my nape, pulling me down. The kiss is hungry, ravenous really, like we’re trying to melt and pour all of our feelings into each other with our lips and tongues.
I pull back, just enough to rest my forehead against his, sharing his air. “My flight isn’t until tomorrow afternoon. Want to put me up for the night?”
“Hey, mine too,” he says, then adds, “I had to get a ticket to get through security. I was going to track you down all the way to South Carolina if I had to.”
My knees go weak at his words. I have half a mind to pinch myself to make sure this is real and not some sad, drunken airport floor dream.
“Let’s go back to my place, we can sleep, and I’ll pack a bag.”
“I know it’s past your bedtime, but… just sleep?” I ask and press my very eager half-chub into his hip.
“I doubt I’ll be waking up early for a run tomorrow, so I’ll have to get some cardio in tonight. Now, let’s go see if my car got towed.”
Still shoeless, he slips my backpack onto his shoulder, grabs his stuff off the stool and my hand, and drags me out of the terminal.