Chapter 52
Chapter fifty-two
Liv
The new dorms smell like paint and carpet glue.
It’s fucking awful. But I’ve put on my big-girl panties and ignored every single inconvenient thing that’s almost sent me into a spin today.
The bed is a single instead of the huge bed I just bought for Jay’s? No problem.
There’s only one small window in the room? Great, I hate natural light.
No pets allowed? Wonderful, he’d hate it here anyway.
I will not let it get to me. My decision was the right one. Everything is going to be fine. I can do this on my own. I will do this because Jay’s leaving anyway, he’s moving to another state, so I can’t keep relying on him. I can’t keep relying on people who leave me.
I sniff away the tears threatening to fall again and look at my best friends.
Daphne’s crouched by the window, trying to untangle a string of fairy lights that keep knotting themselves.
Finn joined us an hour ago and dove straight in.
Right now, he’s cross-legged on the floor, folding sweaters into neat stacks like he’s afraid to look at me too long.
In his defense, I may have burst into tears when he arrived.
Something about having the three of us together felt right, like we were kids again.
I inhale, that horrible smell of paint assaults me, and I groan, slumping my head into my hands.
“I don’t want to do this,” I mumble. It’s supposed to feel like a fresh start.
Instead, it feels like I’m at the base of a mountain I don’t want to climb with no equipment or know-how.
I hate it here, but I’m way too stubborn not to push on.
“I know, but you can do this. It’s not easy, but you’re tough, Liv,” Daphne says, and just when her words fuel something deep in my belly, I open my mouth to tell her she’s right, but there’s a knock at the door.
My heart drops clean through me at the sound of his voice on the other side. “Liv, it’s me.”
Daphne and Finn exchange a look—one of those silent twin conversations they have that says: do we stay or do we run?
“I’ve got it,” I mutter, wiping my palms on my jeans. Disclaimer: I definitely don’t feel like I’ve got it in any way, shape, or form.
When I open the door, Jay’s there, shoulders tense, breath uneven, one hand still curled as he’d been about to knock again.
His glasses are slightly fogged at the edges, his hair curling at his temples.
His dilated pupils find mine, searching, and relief flickers over his face.
He’s so handsome it hurts to remember being with him, having him, loving him.
Because that’s what I did, I went and fell in love like a stupid idiot.
But seeing him now just makes me angry at all the things I can’t have.
“Can we talk?”
“No,” I say, and try to close the door.
He catches it before it shuts, palm pressed firm against the frame, foot wedged in the doorway. “Liv, please—”
“I don’t want to.” It’s a lie that burns coming out, I do want to, and it’s killing me to push him away, but self-preservation and all that.
His jaw tightens, and for a second, I think he’s going to let me have it my way.
“I’m not going anywhere, Olivia.” He pushes the door open just enough to meet my eyes.
“You can slam it in my face, you can yell, you can hate me, but I’m not leaving until you hear me.
” Of course he’s not; that’s not who he is.
Behind me, my friends rise slowly. “We’ll give you two some space,” Finn mutters to Daphne, who’s already got their coats. “Text us later, okay?”
They open the door, letting Jay inside with a nod, but when the door clicks behind them, silence fills the space and suffocates me with the fresh scent of him. My body is still so attuned to him that it pains me to step back.
“I don’t think there’s anything left to say,” I manage, crossing my arms. Lies, lies, lies; they spill out of me like lava.
“There is,” he says, voice cracking. “There’s everything.”
He takes a step forward, but I don’t move. A part of me wants to hear what he needs to say. The other part wants to jump his bones and fuck it out. Then there’s the other, more ragey part, that would like to punch his stupidly adorable glasses off his perfect face. Anything could happen.
“Nothing has changed from last night,” I begin, letting common sense talk. “I’m happy you got the job.”
“I would never do to you what he did,” he says quietly, and for a second, I’m not following what he’s said versus what I said.
“What do you mean?”
“You should’ve told me about running into Rhys. You could’ve called me.”
My heart pulls painfully. “And what was I supposed to do? Call you so you’d drop everything for me? I thought you were working, and it would’ve been even worse if I’d inadvertently ruined your interview. You don’t deserve to clean up my messes all the time.”
He steps closer, voice pushing into all the cracks in my armor. “I wanted you to trust me. I wanted to help you when you need someone. Have I not earned that?”
He has. He’s probably the only man I’ve ever loved who actually took the time to love me back, which is why letting him go is going to hurt so much. And still, my body slips toward him, toward that gravity he’s always had over me, and I hate it because I don’t know how to stay safe in it.
“I’m trying,” I whisper. “But every time I trust someone, I’m the one who ends up bleeding for it.”
His eyes bore into me in that way that gets under my guard, like he sees every jagged part of me and still reaches out anyway. “I’m not asking you to pretend it doesn’t hurt. I’m asking you to let me hold the parts that do. That’s all I’ve ever asked of you, Liv.”
My throat closes because he’s right. “What if I give you that and you still leave?”
He shakes his head, jaw flexing with something fierce and tender. “Then that’s on me. Not you. You mean too much to me to ever make you feel that way. But we have so much to talk about.”
The words sting because they hit exactly where they’re meant to. That trust we’d built felt like it crumbled last night, and it left a hole much bigger than Rhys. But in so many other ways, I want this for him, and that stings too.
“I was stupid to keep the interview from you,” he goes on. “Selfish. I told myself you’d understand, that it wouldn’t feel like a secret, but I kept you in the dark. And that’s on me.”
“Yeah.” I sniff away lingering emotion. “It is.”
He nods, determined eyes set on me. “You deserve better, Liv, and I’m truly sorry.”
I stick my chin out defiantly, not ready to accept that apology, even though the rage inside me is lessening at an alarming rate.
“On the plane home, I was looking up art galleries,” he continues. “Museums. Internships. I was going to ask you to come with me. That’s what I wanted to tell you last night. That I didn’t want California without you.”
I swallow, hard. “What? You’re being ridiculous. I have school and friends… and…” I was going to tell him, but that’s not true anymore. “Nick Fury, too.”
He takes another small step closer. “I don’t want that job if it means losing you. If you tell me to stay, I’ll stay.”
“Don’t say that.” My voice wavers. “You worked for this. I’d never ask that.”
“I worked for a future that felt like mine. You’re part of that now.” His voice hardens, that subtle dominant side peeking out, toying with me. “So, no, I’m not going anywhere. Not until we figure out what this means. Not until I know you’re mine again.”
Sadly for him, I’m feeling bratty, and I was born to push boundaries. “Was I ever yours?”
He assess me for a second, then carefully unfolds my arms, placing both my palms flat on his chest and waits. The steady thrum of his heart increases, thundering closer to something… closer to me, syncing with my own, I realize.
“You feel that?” he rasps.
I nod and swallow the air filled with him.
“That’s the power you have over me. Even the organ that keeps me alive is fighting to get to you.”
My pulse kicks hard, traitorous. “You can’t just say things like that and expect me to… to…”
“Pretend you don’t feel the same?” he says, eyes holding mine hostage.
“I don’t,” I lie again and hate it, but I’m not giving in easily.
He tilts his head, a knowing smile ghosting across his mouth, just as his hand moves to rest over my heart, thumping exactly the same as his.
“Gatinha, baby,” he purrs, and I almost lose it, give into him, but some tiny minuscule part of me still refuses.
Not that it fazes him at all, he doesn’t even flinch.
He is the anchor in the middle of my storm surge, and I’m the one who keeps crashing toward him, unable to pull back.
God, I hate him for being so patient, even when I’m being difficult. I hate that every part of me still remembers the weight of his hands, the quiet mornings together, the way he looks when he comes inside me, the way he kisses me… the way I still want him more than I want to breathe.
Our hands still pressed between us, he moves closer, moving mine up to the base of his neck, and his slip around my waist. “I messed up,” he admits.
“But I’m not losing this. Not when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Olivia.
You can shut the door on me a hundred times.
I’ll still belong to you.” His breath grazes my cheek as he leans in.
“You can hate me,” he whispers, “but it doesn’t change the fact that I love you. ”
I blink fast, crying would be giving him ground I’m not ready to surrender, but my nose tingles all the same. His words are so sure, so certain, I don’t know if I can believe them. “That’s… intense.”
“Love is intense, Liv, and I love you intensely. It’s okay if you aren’t there yet, but I am.
You’ve spent the last few months weaving into my life so completely, so effortlessly, that there’s no version of it I want without you in it.
I love you in the way you deserve, without hesitation, without conditions, and with every single part of me. I’m sorry I made you doubt that.”
Nobody’s ever said they loved me like that, so completely. He just said it and meant it. No strings attached, no expectation or manipulation.
I want so badly to let those words soak into every bruised part of me that’s filled with doubt, to stop holding my heart hostage by old ghosts. But wanting it and trusting it are two very different things.
My chest tightens around the ache of it. Because this—him—it’s everything I’ve wanted and everything I’m terrified of losing in the same breath. He’s standing there offering me the one thing I’ve never trusted: permanence.
But with him, it’s always felt like more.
An invisible thread looped around my wrist, the other end tied to his.
My throat burns with everything I want to say but can’t quite manage.
It’s not that I don’t feel it, I do, so much, but I don’t know how any of this is going to end with a happily ever after.
“I already hate this place,” I finally murmur, breaking the moment, reaching for some semblance of control. “It smells like paint, and they wouldn’t even let me bring Nick Fury.”
The empty, dull room glares back at us, and a sting echoes in my chest at the room I’d left behind in our apartment.
Then he’s there, placing a finger under my chin, tipping my face to his. “You want to live with me, baby?”
My knees wobble a little. “Only because our cat lives there.”
“I’ll take it,” he laughs.
Then reality slams in again, making my lip wobble.
“But you’re moving, Jay. It’s just—” My voice fractures. “It’s so much to lose, and I think maybe you should just go and I’ll stay here. It’s the only option that makes sense.”
He doesn’t flinch. Just reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers grazing my cheek like he’s trying to memorize it. “Actually,” he murmurs, “I might have another option.”
My heart stutters. Hope shoots through me before I can swallow it back down. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not assuming anything, you don’t owe me that.
” His voice is even and sure. “But my lease is paid through to summer. The Valkyries offered me a relocation bonus, which includes an apartment if I need it. You can stay here as long as you need, no pressure. I just don’t want you to feel like everything’s ending.
If you ever want to try finding something in California…
I’d help you. But that’s your choice, Liv. Always.”
Do I want that? I moved here to be closer to Daphne, to start over, to build something steady for once. The thought of packing up again feels impossible. But then… maybe impossible isn’t the same as bad. Maybe it’s just new.
I meet his gaze, my pulse still racing. “I have a year left of school,” I say, though it comes out weak, almost like a question. “But I could spend the summer with you. Maybe even find an internship there.”
Tenderness glazes his eyes as he looks at me. “I would love that.”
Wrapping his arms around me, that thread tugs against my wrist, my ribs, my heart…
the one tethering us together. I press my lips to his gently and breathe in the comfort he gives so easily.
For the first time today, I take a breath that travels all the way from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
“I’m sorry, too,” I admit. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad when you finally got something good for you. I was just scared.”
“I know.” His lips find my forehead, and I deflate.
I pull back just enough to meet his gaze, a shaky smile tugging at my mouth. Maybe I can do this again, we can do this. This room isn’t mine, this place doesn’t feel like home, he does.
I pat his chest. “I hope you’ve limbered up, because I’ve already moved these boxes once today. This is all on you, now.”
He huffs a laugh, brushing his nose against mine. “You’re lucky I love you, Olivia.”
A rumble of appreciation ripples through my skin at that, and I let myself believe him.