Chapter 36
Cricket Jenkins
The sun kisses the water as it slowly lowers in the sky, and I listen to Micah strum chords on his guitar.
The sand feels cool on my fingers now, the warmth of the day bleeding away as evening approaches.
Soon I’ll need to go inside and grab a sweater because the temperature is dipping, the ocean breeze carrying a chill that makes me shiver.
I look over at Micah. He’s wearing jeans and my favorite leather jacket. His hair is windblown in that way that looks so sexy on him. His gray eyes lock onto mine with an intensity I’ve never seen before, and my heart doesn’t just skip a beat—it stumbles, falls, forgets how to work entirely.
He picks up the empty food platter and moves it then scoots in next to me. He’s close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. He sets his guitar down. “Can I ask you something?”
My stomach drops, and I politely nod at him, trying to maintain some semblance of composure even though every cell in my body is screaming at me to lean into him.
I don’t know what he’s doing, but I hate it because it’s causing me physical pain to be this close to him when it doesn’t mean what I want it to.
“Sure,” I say, my throat dry.
“Are you still upset about River?” His voice is soft and a little uncertain, like he’s unsure what I’ll say.
I trace shapes in the sand with my finger, circles and spirals and nothing that means anything, as I try to gather my thoughts. “No,” I say quietly.
Micah picks up my hand, almost absentmindedly, like he’s done a million times before.
His fingers thread through mine with familiar ease.
I want to pull away from him, to protect what’s left of my shattered heart, but I don’t.
I can’t. Even though it’s torture. Even though every second of contact is a reminder of what I can never have.
This is my life. I’m always going to be pining for him, wishing he felt something for me, and I’m always going to be disappointed.
I don’t know if I can do this anymore. Being this close—so physically close it kills me—but knowing I’ll never have him. I’m always in the orbit of Micah Barrett, where I’m destined to circle forever without ever getting closer.
The ocean stretches out before me, endless and indifferent to my heartbreak. Somewhere out there, beyond the waves, is a whole world I’ve never seen. Places I’ve never been. A life I could build that doesn’t revolve around Micah Barrett and his gray eyes and his stupidly perfect smile.
I need to leave Willow Shade. I need physical distance. I could go anywhere. New York. Los Angeles. Seattle. Somewhere I could start fresh, where every street corner doesn’t hold a memory of Micah and me.
“I need to—” he says at the same time I blurt out, “I want to—”
Our words collide and tangle in the air between us. He chuckles a little, the sound nervous and uncertain in a way that’s not like him at all. He motions to me with his free hand. “You go first.”
I’m not even sure what I was going to say. I only know that I can’t keep doing this to myself. I can’t stay. I can’t watch him fall in love with someone else. I can’t spend the rest of my life being close enough to touch but never close enough to hold. It will kill me to continue like this.
“I want to leave,” I say quietly, the words barely audible over the sound of the waves.
Micah blinks at me, confusion clouding his features. “Leave?”
“I need some time away.” I stop before I say what’s really in my heart. That I need time away from him.
Micah’s grip on my hand tightens. “W-why would you say that?”
I can’t look at him anymore. It hurts too much.
My gaze bounces around, and I look at the distant speck of a boat, the seagulls wheeling overhead, the foam on the waves, anything and everything but him.
“I think I need to travel. See the world. I’m young, and I feel like a writer needs more experience.
I need to do more things. Live life.” The words tumble out faster and faster, my rambling filling the space where truth should be.
“I can be your manager from another place. With technology these days, that could work. I think I need to get away from Willow Shade Island for a while. I have to—”
“Jiminy,” he says softly, and the nickname nearly undoes me.
I bite my lips hard to stop talking, to stop the words that want to spill out. I love you. I’ve always loved you. Watching you not love me back is killing me. I stare out at the ocean and the setting sun, watching the sky turn from gold to pink to deep orange.
He squeezes my hand. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I can’t look at him. If I do, I know I’ll cave. I’ll tell him to forget it, that I’ll never leave. So I keep staring out at the water. “I just need a break.”
“Why?” His voice is insistent.
I want to pull my hand away from him. I want to put distance between us. Tears threaten, but I don’t let them come. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t even answer him. I’m too upset.
“Please don’t leave me.” He squeezes my hand, and my heart doesn’t just break, it shatters into a million glittering pieces that scatter across the sand.
If only he wanted me to stay because he loves me.
If only he felt even a fraction of what I feel for him, I would stay forever.
But I can’t. And I can’t tell him why without destroying everything.