Chapter Thirteen #2
Tyler was the first one to bolt for the stairs, but when he was at the foot of them, he stopped and looked over his shoulder.
At me.
He said nothing, but his hand gripped the banister, and he took one step backward, like he was debating running to me instead of up to his room.
But in the next second, it was like I’d imagined it all. He turned and jogged up the stairs without so much as another pause.
And again, I found myself watching his back as he went.
It was too late.
Those were the words that flashed like little caution lights in my mind as I ran, my legs burning, chest aching, breath coming shorter and shallower with every new step.
It was too late to be out for a run on the beach.
It was too late to be out and alone, period.
It was too late to be awake when I had another full day of wedding activities tomorrow.
And it was too late to ever have a relationship with Tyler Wagner.
That last point was the one that mattered most, the one that my brain focused on as I ran, sneakers kicking up sand behind me. The cool evening breeze swept across my damp chest, covering me with chills, but still, I ran.
It was the only thing I could do after an evening like the one I’d had — packed with emotion and longing and conflict. The war raging on inside my mind, inside my body, inside my soul was invisible to anyone but me.
And maybe Tyler, but he couldn’t save me.
No one could.
I’d woken with the determination to stay far away from Tyler, to let him go, to let the past go.
And instead, I’d been forced to walk down the aisle to him, to pretend to be his bride, to let him take my hands in his and stare into my eyes and not say a single word but say everything I’d ever wanted to hear, too.
It was impossible in that moment to not picture it, to not wonder what it could have been like, what we could have been like.
And it knifed me open, right down the middle, spilling my guts with irreparable damage.
I sucked in a harsh breath, running faster, as if that would help me.
But as soon as I took three more steps, my mind was wandering again — this time, to the rehearsal dinner, where I’d sat at the restaurant with Morgan and her family, and I’d been a slave to the fantasy of what it would be like to really be a part of it.
To be Jasmine Wagner.
To be Morgan’s sister-in-law.
To be Tyler’s wife.
I couldn’t escape the whirlwind of what ifs as I sat there, eating and laughing, listening to Morgan tell Oliver stories about me and her and Tyler growing up.
Robert teased me. Amanda offered me the last cheddar roll in the bread basket, because she knew they were my favorite.
And Tyler sat across from me, his hand around a glass of scotch, a lazy, content smile on his face as he listened and chimed in on our childhood stories.
It didn’t matter that he didn’t talk directly to me. It seemed he was doing the same thing I was, trying to put distance between us, to block out the same flurry of thoughts I had.
Still, I loved the way he spoke about us. I loved the way my heart swelled at the memories. I loved the way I felt being back here, back with them.
Back with him .
And the way he smoothed his thumbs over my wrists under that arch…
My body moved faster, as if to shake that thought away before I could latch onto it, but still, my mind raced. It was a fog impossible to fight through, but more than anything and at the root of it all — I hated myself.
Because all it had taken to show my true, dark, and fucked-up morals was one trip back home.
And one thing I knew for sure, one truth swimming low and acidic in my gut, was that I had to call Jacob tomorrow.
And I had to break up with him.
It didn’t matter that Tyler had a girlfriend, that our time had passed, that we would never be together. It didn’t matter that, surely , it was being here that was messing with my mind, and had I stayed in California, none of this would have happened.
All that did matter was that I realized, in painful clarity, that I was not okay.
I was not ready to date someone as seriously as I was dating Jacob. I didn’t deserve his love, his time, his doting attention. I didn’t know what I wanted, or who I was, or where I was going because I’d spent the last seven years running from where I’d been.
It was the wake-up call akin to a bucket of ice cold water to the face, and I couldn’t run from it, no matter how I tried.
My nose stung with the urge to cry, but I fought against it, picking up my speed, instead. My muscles ached in protest, and I knew I was pushing too hard. I knew I’d be sore as fuck tomorrow, but I couldn’t not run. I couldn’t not put my body in pain and fatigue.
It was my only chance at escaping everything inside my head.
It was almost eleven when I’d left the beach house, so I knew it had to be past midnight when I finally made my way back.
I slowed from a run to a jog the closer I got to the back steps that led up from the beach, and I stopped at the foot of the stairs, hanging my hands on my hips and looking out over the dark water as I tried to catch my breath.
The moon was just a sliver, most of the lights from the beach houses turned down, and everything was quiet. June was shoulder season for the Cape, so it wasn’t yet crawling with tourists like little ants. And in that silent, dark moment on the beach, I felt the universe inside me shift.
And I knew things would never be the same.
“A little late for a run, don’t you think?”
I didn’t jump, didn’t so much as blink or shiver at the sound of Tyler’s voice.
I hadn’t seen him sitting in the middle of the stairs like a shadow, but perhaps I’d felt him.
Perhaps I’d sensed him, or always known he’d be there — like no matter how far or fast I ran, it’d always be him I’d come back to.
A heavy sigh left my chest, and I turned, finding him in the darkness. And I didn’t answer. I just shrugged.
Tyler rose slowly, making his way down the stairs toward where I stood on the beach below. He leaned against the banister, cautiously watching me, like I was a wild hare and one quick movement would send me running.
“You okay?”
Something of a laugh left my nose at that, and then my eyes welled with tears. I shook my head, casting my gaze over the dark water again. “No,” I whispered, and the fight was useless against the first two tears that fell hot down my cheeks. “I am far from okay.”
Tyler pushed off the banister at once, his arms reaching for me, but I backed away like he was poison, nearly falling in the process. He stopped, holding up his hands as I crossed my arms over my middle.
“Don’t,” I warned, shaking my head.
“Come here.”
“Please, don’t touch me.”
“How can I not?” he asked, stepping toward me with purpose. “You’re hurting, and it’s killing me, and I don’t know how to fix it other than to pull you into me and try to shield you from whatever it is that’s bringing you pain.”
“It’s you! ”
The words were too loud, too raw, and more tears flooded my eyes as they lingered between us.
I sniffed, wiping my face and sucking in a cold breath.
“Can’t you see that?” I asked, quiet this time, my voice something of a whimper or a plea.
“It’s you who brings me pain. It’s you who is killing me.
It’s you , and us,” I added, motioning between us.
“It’s this thing that never was, but always is, that never will be and will never not be. ”
The air around us stilled, even the soft distant sound of the waves quieting, as if the entire world decided to stop spinning for this one specific moment.
And Tyler looked like I’d just socked him in the jaw.
I shook my head, face contorting with emotion.
“I have tried to forget you, Tyler. For seven long years, I ran from you, and from that day, and from all those years we had together. I thought I’d grown.
I thought I’d left you behind. I thought I’d succeeded in forgetting you, in giving the fantasy of us up.
” I choked on a sob, covering my mouth with one hand as my eyes blurred again.
“But all it took was one trip. One time coming back here — to this place, to you — and it’s so painfully clear that I wasn’t even close. ”
“Jaz…”
“I just want to hate you,” I said, desperation splitting my chest open, and in the next breath, Tyler’s arms were around me.
I shoved at his chest, trying to put distance between us, but he held me tighter. I shook my head and cried and pushed, but it was no use.
His arms around me were unyielding, pressing, tight and secure and warm.
And when I finally gave in, collapsing into him, another sob racking my chest, I submitted to every painful, shameful, horrendous emotion.
“Please,” I begged, fisting my hands in his shirt to hold him closer but still trying to shove him away. “Please, just make me hate you.”
Tyler’s knuckles found my chin, and he tilted it until I was staring up at him through wet lashes. Just the sight of the pain in his eyes made another surge of emotion assault my chest, and I winced, rolling my lips to fight off more tears.
“Only if you make me hate you first.”
Tyler stilled when the words came from his lips, and I tilted my head, confused.
But before I could ask him what he meant, he grabbed my chin and crashed his mouth to mine.
That kiss… that connection of lips, of heat and want, of regret and longing, of a past life and a present one — it hit me like an anvil to the chest.
My next breath was stolen, and I’d barely registered that Tyler was kissing me before his tongue skated against my lips, seeking access, and I opened, letting him in like there was no other option.
There never had been.
It had always been him. It had always been us. And that kiss — that passionate, painful, bruising kiss told me that he knew it, too.
Is this a dream again? Am I about to wake up?
My question was answered with Tyler’s grip around my waist tightening, and I whimpered as he bit down on my bottom lip, sucking it inside his mouth before he was kissing me again.
I was still completely breathless, shocked and scared and knowing we should stop but so damn turned on that I knew I never would.
I should have shoved him back. I should have slapped him. I should have turned around and run and never looked back.
But I held onto him like he was all I needed, all that mattered, and we spiraled together into the darkness we’d created.
Our own little personal hell.
Every moment after that was a flash, a blur, defying physics and gravity and every law of science there was. Time jumped and skipped, and I registered our movement in tiny specs.
Hands everywhere, lips hot and wet as we climbed the stairs.
A shock of pain up my back when he slammed me into the door that led into the house, and a cool rush of air when we tumbled inside it.
A zing of warning down my spine when he grabbed my hand and tugged me up, stopping every few seconds to capture my mouth with his again, as if he worried that even one full minute without contact would be enough for me to wise up and change my mind and stop all of this.
But I never could.
I blacked out for the rest of the ascent, up the three stories, both of us trying to silence our breaths as we climbed each floor. Deftly, I registered Tyler gripping the doorknob that led into my room, and he shoved it open, tossing me inside before he shut it behind us with a quiet snick.
When we were alone, he stood across from me, chest heaving, eyes devouring me like he was a wolf and I was his prey.
He took one step, and I took the next, until we collided in the middle of the room in a mixture of shallow breaths and hot, needy hands.
His wrapped around my hips and lifted, and then I was on the dresser, and when I spread my thighs to make room for him between them, the vase of flowers Jacob had bought me crashed to the floor.
It was my final warning, I’d realize in the coming days, and I should have heeded it.
But nothing could make me stop now.