Chapter 74
Tristen
“Dude, my fingers are asleep.”
My chuckle is nearly silent, the risk of jostling Emmett too great. I’m not even sure if he’s sleep or just … zoned out.
Admittedly, I’ve been staring at the pile of dirt with my mind on a fucking warpath of chaos since he dove into my chest.
Last time he touched me in front of Hat …
“He’s squeezing the life out of ‘em.”
“Then move?”
“Absolutely not. It’s like a hug from him and I don’t know that I’ll ever get another one.”
My jaw tightens because he’s right.
Because I have shit timing and my ability to hide shit hasn’t waned like I thought it would.
I’m terrified to hurt him. To disappoint him.
To lose him.
Will he forgive me? Blame Hatley? Run?
There’s nothing holding him here now. No reason to stick around the house when I leave.
I don’t wanna leave him.
Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and I glance over his head to my best friend.
He’s already looking at me.
“It’s almost June,” he says unexpectedly, voice thick. “There’s plays and shit downtown. You should take him.”
“But Hatley—”
“I know, fool.” There’s a fondness to his words that softens the blow of his next words. “He deserves a taste of normal anyway. You can give him that at least.”
My chest caves in, my eyes burning. “When do I tell him?”
Hatley blows out a breath, gaze shifting to stare out over the mound and into the rows and rows of headstones.
“Before, man. Don’t waste any more time.”
I swallow hard and follow his gaze, staring out at nothing, my heart pounding so hard that it feels like it’s breaking down everything holding it back from escaping. And then some.
Fuck, it feels like it’s fucking breaking itself.
“I’m gonna take off,” Hatley says softly, his hazel eyes glittering harshly in the sunlight when I look back at him. “Call me if you need something.”
“Thanks, Hat.”
He pulls his fingers free, sparing me one last glance before he climbs to his feet and takes off, leaving us alone.
“What do you have to tell me?” It’s croaky, like maybe Emmett was asleep, the sound of it making my heart both soar and weep.
“The scholarship.” My throat clogs, the fear of losing him cutting so deep, I don’t know that I can get the words out.
“Flight nurse certification.” He nods against my chest and tears leak from my eyes at his memory. “The special one.”
“Yeah,” I murmur low and press my lips to his hair, my eyes squeezing shut. Please don’t let me lose you. “It’s … I … I’m gonna be gone for a while to do it.”
He pushes back from me, those sweet fucking eyes boring into me.
“Gone?”
I nod. Gather up his hand in both of mine. “Emmett, when I applied, I hadn’t even met you yet and it felt like the right thing, to chase a dream. I … I don’t wanna lose my shot.” His eyes flick between mine, concerned and wary. “But I don’t want—I can’t lose you either, baby.”
Everything in me screams to ask him to just come with me. To stick close to me.
Because I want him. And I need him.
I love him.
But how can I ask him to abandon the life he just got back to follow me? Then what happens? There’s nothing in Utah for him like there is here.
It’s too much to tear him away from this. The ability to see his mom, even though she’s not here anymore. To come here and heal the pieces of himself she chipped away. To grieve fully and come out better.
To be with Hatley, a friend he so rightfully deserves.
It would be incredibly selfish of me.
Wouldn’t it?
“I leave in sixteen days,” I whisper past the lump in my throat.
His jaw ticks as he looks away, breaking the connection between us to stare at his mother’s grave.
I watch from the side as so many things pass over his face. Redness from anger. Splotches blooming from sadness. Uncertainty hardening his brows, nostrils flaring, and suddenly I’ve lost track of the direction of the storm when he turns to me with tears in his eyes.
“My mother used to watch these movies where they’d kiss goodbye in airports. It always felt like they were wrong.” He leans close and I can’t breathe. “Maybe it was supposed to be in a cemetery, instead.”
Lips ghosting over mine, he absorbs my sob.
“Baby, I don’t wanna kiss you goodbye.”
I cup his jaw to keep him close, and he grabs hold of my wrists.
“How else would we kiss hello when you get back?”
“Oh, my god,” I cry and drop my face to his, our cheeks pressed together. “You’ll fucking stay with me? You’ll be here?”
I can’t help it when he nods, I feather my lips over his. Press our faces together harder. Hold his cheek to mine.
“Why not?”
The way he uses my words has another sound clawing up my throat.
“Jesus Christ, I—” I swallow hard, my hands trembling with the admission thick on my tongue, my fingers tingling. One step at a time, dumbass. “Emmett, baby. Can I tell people you’re mine? My bubbles?”
He sucks in a breath that feels like maybe I asked too fast but then he shocks me all over again with a nod that has my heart ready to leap out and curl up on his lap. My cheek grows wetter, and I don’t fucking know if it’s my tears or his.
Shit, I’m so overwhelmed.
“I’m scared,” he admits softly, his breath catching next to my ear.
“I know. I am, too, bubs. But we can do this. We can figure this out.”
“O-o-okay.”
“Okay,” I whisper back, blowing a long breath. “My god, okay. Let’s, um—” Despite his acceptance, his agreement, my tie feels too tight around my throat. “Can I … will you join me on a date? A real date?”
Eyes shining when I pull back to look at them, his jaw is warm and so fucking alive in my hands. His pulse hammers against my pinkies and it feels like my new favorite thing. Just him. His life, pounding right in my hands.
“I … I want that.” It’s so gentle. Small. Laced with fear and wonder and I feel like I’m flying.
“I’ll give you everything you want, baby. Anything. Just tell me,” I promise and press my trembling lips to the tip of his nose.
“Not everything,” he murmurs, his grip on my wrists releasing.
“I know … C’mon.” Even though it’s the last thing I want but can tell he needs a minute where I’m not touching him, I let him go and climb to my feet. He accepts my help up, going momentarily stiff.
“I … forgot where we were.”
My throat works down a swallow of guilt as he stares down at the exposed earth.
The urge to grab his hand, drape my arm across his shoulders, pull him in close to me is so strong that I step back. Grab the back of my own neck. Blow a breath.
“C-can I … have a second?”
He says it to the ground, wide eyes trained low.
“Yeah, bubs. I’ll be in the truck.”
“Hey, Tristen,” he calls, pausing me midway back to the tiny street I parked on.
The wind rustles his hair when I turn to look at him, blowing the loose strands around his face that glow in the sunlight.
It’s almost ethereal looking, the scene in front of me, dreamlike and filling my chest with something that feels so foreign, it aches.
Like I’m staring at an angel. “Thank you.”
The corner of my lips tip up, the emotion big enough I can barely contain it.
“Pretty sure I should thank you, bubbles.”
His brow flexes like maybe he doesn’t understand that, but that’s okay.
I have the rest of our lives to show him how much he saved me, too.