Chapter 44
The car-ride back to my place is quiet, Tanner’s jaw tense almost the entire time. He doesn’t have any music playing, which is sort of awkward because I don’t know how to initiate a conversation after he reacted so poorly when I requested space.
In some capacity, I understand the frustration. Since his cousin, Aurora, was the person who initially came in to check on me, I didn’t get to hear or see what Tanner was doing before he sauntered into the bedroom. But even when he did, I could tell something was off based on the flare of his nostrils and the hardened look in his gaze. Plus, it wasn’t like him to press so hard on a subject I didn’t want to elaborate on in the moment. But at the same time, I do understand that it’s frustrating waiting for me to feel comfortable opening up because of my anxiety.
I fully planned on telling Tanner about the conversation between his mom and I, but I did need a moment to process how it went down because of my anxiety. Sometimes, when I’m not feeling entirely sure about the intended meaning behind a conversation, I’ll perceive what’s being said differently. So when his mom told me she wanted the best for him, I assumed it meant that she didn’t think that person could be me.
And maybe, in some circumstances, she’s right. But it isn’t up to her to decide that. Granted, I completely shut down during our conversation for a few different reasons. First being, I didn’t want to say the wrong thing and throw the entire day, or her mood, off. And secondly, because, well.
I didn’t necessarily like some of the things she was saying.
Fast-forward two hours, and we’re sitting in my living room, silent. The thoughts in his head are so loud I can hear them from my place on the couch, but I want to give him space like he’s done with me so many times. Still though, nerves plummet in my stomach and my legs are restless. I’m itching to stand up and pace to get some of the energy out, but I don’t move. Can’t.
When the silence becomes too unbearable, I’m about to break it when the deep timbre of his fills the space between us. “I need to know what happened.”
Casting a glance his way, I notice his forearms resting against his thighs as his head is cradled between both thumb and index finger on both hands. He doesn’t look at me, and I desperately want him to. Instead, I rub my clammy palms on my thighs and lick my lips. He deserves to know, especially after he dropped the conversation despite getting worked up. Plus, I agreed to try.
“The conversation went fine, at first,” I say finally, feeling slightly embarrassed that I have to recall events that were most likely a product of my anxiety. “Which is why I think I was making it out to be bigger than what it was.”
“Just tell me, Daisy,” he exasperates. I swallow thickly, the tension radiating off him so palpable it makes me squirm. I’m not used to his anger, or whatever emotion this is, and I want to do anything to erase it.
“The conversation was fine, normal. Asking about my job, hobbies, the regular stuff. I thought everything was going fine, but then she started asking questions about us,” I say carefully. Tanner’s gaze lifts, and his head briefly turns to look at me before focusing back on the ground. “She vocalized that you got out of a serious relationship a year ago, and had concerns about moving on too quickly.”
His brows furrow. “She said that?”
“Not in direct words, no,” I shake my head. “I think she was coming more from a place of being concerned that that’s what was happening.”
It’s his turn to shake his head. “That doesn’t make sense,” he mutters, moreso to himself than me. “She knows I’m over all of that.”
I nod. “I know. And, for what it’s worth, I’m sure she does too. But,” I say carefully, licking my suddenly dry lips. “She started asking questions about where I saw things going with you. Eventually, it turned into a conversation about her wanting what was best for you, and she asked me whether I thought I’d be able to be that person.”
“And what did you say?” he asks curiously.
I wipe my hands on my thighs again, shifting nervously in my place. “I…told her that I wasn’t sure I’d be the best person for you because I may not be able to love you in the way she was expecting. When I said that,” I continue, voice softer. “She said if I didn’t think I could be the best person for you, then I needed to figure out what was ‘right’ for the both of us.”
Tanner blinks and doesn’t say anything for the longest time. Now that I’ve had time to process out loud what his mom was saying, I realize that what she said wasn’t all that bad, and per usual, my anxiety got the best of me. Although I don’t have a relationship with my own mom, I can understand his mom’s concerns to an extent. In the moment though, I was too focused on listening, rather than hearing, what she was saying.
“So,” he begins, finally dropping his hands from his face. “You’re telling me, that all of this—“ he gestures between the two of us, “was because you were upset that my mom vocalized wanting what was best for me?”
My brows furrow. “I…no. It wasn’t because of that, but because of what came up when she was saying those things, I guess.”
“Which was what?” he asks, a hardness to his tone that hasn’t left since our argument earlier.
“What?”
”Which was what?” he repeats, shifting his attention to me. “You said it wasn’t about what she said, but what came up for you. What was it?”
I open my mouth to tell him, but anxiety constricts tight in my throat, making the words nearly impossible to come out. The truth is, her asking whether I could be enough for him triggered the same feelings I’ve always had when it comes to the close relationships in my life. That who I was, and where was at in my life, wasn’t good enough because it wasn’t where other people expected me to be. That I was incapable of loving somebody because I wasn’t used to it. And hell, maybe I didn’t know the first thing about love, but I agreed to try with Tanner all those months ago, so that’s what I’m doing. It may not be up to his family’s standards, but it should be enough. I should be enough, and the constant reminder that I’m not causes me to shut down.
“You’re seriously doing this right now?” Tanner’s voice snaps me back to the present, and without realizing it, my hand absently wrapped around my neck loosely.
“I—“ my brows furrow. “What?”
He scoffs in combination with a dry laugh, forcing himself up from the couch. “This is unbelievable,” he paces around the living room, running a hand over his mouth before shoving both through his hair. “So you’re honestly telling me that because my mom—who, might I add, is not in our relationship—questioned your intentions, you suddenly shut down? What about that conversation was so hard for you? I truly don’t get it, Daisy.”
I watch him, unsure how to feel. I get the feeling that Tanner isn’t understanding where I’m coming from, which bothers me because I’ve been pretty vocal about what I needed tonight and he didn’t give that to me. I asked for space to process because I knew my anxiety sometimes got the best of me, and sometimes made me look much deeper in conversations than necessary. But now that he’s clearly still angry, the desire to tell him what that conversation actually brought up feels too difficult.
Instead of answering his question, I shoot back one of my own because my defenses are now rising. “What about this conversation is making you so upset? I don’t see how any of this should be this upsetting, considering that I told you I needed a minute.“ For some reason, remembering how hard he pushed me earlier sends sparks shooting down my spine, the urge to stand making my knees shake. I stay planted, not sure I’d be able to hold myself up right now.
He blinks, baffled, and stares at me. “You don’t get to do that right now.”
“Do what?”
“That!” he exclaims, gripping the strands of his hair. “You cannot sit here and ask me questions because you don’t want to answer them. I’m not understanding how any of that conversation with my mom was enough for you to spiral like this.”
“Spiral?” I ask incredulously, and somewhat offended. My legs force me to stand despite not wanting to. “You think asking for a minute to cool down was me spiraling?”
“I don’t know what the fuck I thought it was, Daisy!” he yells, startling me. “I can’t fucking figure you out!”
“What the hell does that mean?“ I demand. Frustrated, he throws his hands in the air. “Do you think I know? I’ve been trying to figure this out for months.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he forges on. “I have been patient with your anxiety. I have been compassionate and understanding to all of this—“ he gestures between us. “For months. I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt time and time again, and suddenly, because my mom asks you one fucking question about your intentions, you suddenly panic and take it for something deeper that you most likely will never share with me? What kind of bullshit is that?”
All I can do is stare at him. His eyes blaze with anger, and his jaw clenches in frustration. I’ve never seen Tanner have an outburst like this, and although I’m trying hard to look for empathy, I can’t seem to find it right now. My walls are slowly closing in and shutting him out, and no matter how hard I force myself to say something, anything, nothing comes up.
“Fucking say something!” he finally explodes. I startle and clench my hands together to avoid shaking. “I’ve given you months to open up to me Daisy, and because my mom told you she only wants what’s best for me, you perceived it differently, and won’t even say what that is? If you can’t answer a simple question, then why the fuck are we doing this?”
“I did answer her!” I blurt out. “I fucking did! I told her I couldn’t be her best version of myself for you. Why is that not enough? Why can’t you understand that I’m trying?”
He laughs dryly. “Trying? You call this trying? You won’t even let me call you my girlfriend, Daisy. Believe me. You are not trying.”
The silence between us is thick with tension, and I hate it. I hate it almost as much as the tears threatening to spill. Words don’t come out like I want them to, frustration taking over. Even in the most crucial moments, I can’t force myself to say what he means to me, or how hurtful it is he thinks I’m not trying. I am trying. It may not be to his standards, which hurts more than I’d care to admit in the moment, but I am.
“What do you want from me?” I yell, outstretching my arms. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it, Tanner. But yelling at me isn’t going to solve the fucking problem.”
Exhaustion fills his face as he drops his hand, shaking his head. “I don’t have time for this. I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
He turns on his heel and starts walking to the door, and suddenly the panic sinks in. He’s walking away. He’s walking away when he said he wouldn’t. The realization hits hard that he’s the one person I’ve allowed into my life in so long and is actively leaving me.
“Tanner, wait,” I call after him, rounding the couch. “Don’t go.”
He ignores me, and the sudden outburst of anger blinds me.
“You’re seriously walking away?” I demand. “After you told me you wouldn’t? You told me you understood it would take time for me to open up to the idea of a relationship. We agreed to take things slow, and suddenly because I ask for space after one conversation, you blow up?” It’s my turn to laugh, but it comes out shaky. “You have a lot of nerve to question me, when you’re going back on your word.”
He’s bending down to grab his shoe, but stops when the final word falls from my mouth. If Tanner was angry before, he’s furious now. And while I understand, I also don’t.
“No.” He says lowly, standing upright with his shoe in his hand. It would be an almost comical moment if I didn’t feel like I was seconds away from crumbling to the floor and having a full-blown panic attack. He steps forward, pointing said shoe at me.
“You don’t get to sit here and tell me I’m walking away without reason. You know what I expected out of this relationship, Daisy, and yet you continuously failed to try. I told you I needed communication and wouldn’t go through another relationship without it. Never once in the whole three months of us taking things slow did you communicate your concerns to me. So no, Daisy. You don’t get to sit here and act like I’m walking away without a reason.”
Again, I try talking, but he overpowers me. “Do you want to me with me?“ he asks, finally dropping his shoe as he takes a step closer. “Do you even love me? Because I sure as fuck know how I feel, Daisy. Can you say the same thing?”
The word shouldn’t pull me from the fight, but it does. Love. It almost slipped out earlier today when I was in my bathroom getting ready for Thanksgiving, and hearing it again not only reminds me that those happy moments celebrating my birthday for the brief stint of time meant everything, but that somebody outside of my friends were capable of feeling it towards me.
I find myself staring at Tanner as if he’s somebody I haven’t seen in a long time. It’s ironic because I’ve been spending almost all of my time with him, but looking at him in the moment and realizing that he possibly loves me…
“Daisy,” he snaps.
I blink. “I—“
“Can you?” he asks again, this time appearing more urgent than angry. The pain swirls through brightened eyes, and I want to take it away. I want to erase today, this fight, and everything that caused us to get to this spot.
It’s not that I don’t love him. I’ve thought about it for the past few weeks as I’ve grown more comfortable with him. But it feels early, too soon to feel this way about somebody I barely know.
“What do you want from me?” I ask again softly, some of the fight leaving my body. But something settles in his gaze, and he swallow thickly.
“I need to leave.”
He turns back around, picks up his shoe from the place he dropped it on the floor, and heads for the door like he’s on a mission. I’m following close behind because this is the end of us, and I’m not ready for it to be the end.
“Tanner,” I call out urgently, both angry and scared that he’s walking away. Panic claws at my throat, but I force it down as I follow him. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it—“
“I just want you to love me!”
“I can’t!” I scream back.
The words smack Tanner right in the face, and It’s like watching the worst your worst nightmare replay in your head on a loop. Constant, non-stop, for the rest of your life. His mouth slightly parts and he blinks for what feels like excruciatingly long minutes until finally, his lips roll into his mouth and he nods slowly, accepting. Suddenly, nothing about our fight matters because I hurthim. Bad. And I don’t think there’s any way I can come back from this.
The thought is enough to shatter my heart.
I take a step forward. “Tanner,” I whisper, tears brimming in my eyes. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean that.”
He doesn’t answer, only staring at me like he’s mesmerizing every inch of me before he walks out of my life. The anxiety is so thick I’m about to shatter, the sobs getting caught in my throat as my chest constricts to the point of pain. As the tears cascade, his eyes brighten with his own un-shed ones as he turns around to grab the door handle.
“Tanner, please,” I repeat, a sob working its way into my throat. “I–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
His body stills, the muscles in his back tight as he pulls the door open. He glances over his shoulder, gaze meeting mine for what feels like the last time. “I can’t wait for you to start trying anymore. Goodbye, Daisy.”
And walks right out the door.