Chapter 48 #2
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
“I risked almost everything to be here, and whether it was the right or wrong decision, I have to deal with it, and it’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done.
” With each word, though, it’s getting a little lighter.
Is this what it’s like to share a burden?
Is this what it’s like to let someone see you at your worst, not only physically, but emotionally? It’s raw and terrifying.
“Jacob, I’m on the edge of falling constantly.
When Zeta came up above weight on the scale?
It felt like a gust of wind at my back pushing me towards the edge when I realized things were finally going right.
” A sobbing hiccup escapes me. “It felt too real, like I was a second away from losing everything, and you’re part of that now.
And I don’t know. Jacob, I don’t know. It was completely asinine and unfair to you. I’m sorry,” I sob.
The horrible, fearful, angry part of my brain jumped the gun, so willing to blame in a moment of fear. I fucked up. I’m the one who ruined the opportunity this time. I can’t even bear to look at him anymore. Perhaps I should prioritize therapy if I win Circuit Smack.
He could get up out of that chair and walk out of the room, and I wouldn’t blame him.
I’m a snot-covered wreck. My life is messy, and so much of it is tenuous at best. He and I are no different.
Sixteen years’ worth of stops and starts, helping hands, and betrayals.
We’ve said as many wrong words as right.
But he is slipping out of the chair and onto his knees, taking my hands in his.
“Mari, look at me.” His beautiful, perfect, handsome face is stricken, but his gaze is steady on me. “Do you trust me?”
I nod quickly. I do. Despite the terror, despite the past, I do.
I trust him enough to leave him with my dad to work on Zeta.
I trust him enough to take his help, even if it was only a fraction of an inch at a time.
I trust him enough to help me when I’m hurt and to see me at my lowest. Even if I’m only now realizing it.
I do; I trust him. I trust him more than anyone else. “Yes.”
He sags with relief. “Then trust me when I tell you: I love you. I will do anything in my power to make sure you have everything you need to succeed and thrive.” He kisses each hand gently.
“I have loved you for a decade and a half. Ever since the day we met, Mari. It’s always been you.
It will always be you. You don’t need to love me back. You don’t need to—”
I grab his face in my hands, gingerly pulling him to me, and kiss him.
His surprised mouth is warm against mine, lips still mumbling words for the first moment.
When he melts into me, I know what I’ve always known—he feels like home.
We are twin stars orbiting each other, bound by the gravity between us.
Even apart, even at odds, he was always on my mind.
I know now: I will always take a chance on him.
“I love you,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry I doubted you. If it ever happens again, I’ll talk to you. I promise.” No matter what my traitorous brain tells me, I’m never putting either of us in this situation again.
Maybe this is part of love. When you stumble clumsily over a line, when you fumble your fears, when the terrible little parts of you win for a moment, you do anything in your power to make it right and learn how to not do it again.
When it happens to your partner, you remember you love them and give them grace, because they gave you grace when it was your turn.
It’s a home you are always welcome in, even when you’re soggy and dirty.
You have to clean up after yourself, but the door is always open, and the hearth is always warm.
His bittersweet smile is still cradled in my hands. “As much as it hurt, I understand now.” He nuzzles into my hand and kisses my palm.
“I think I understand now, too, more than I did. Thank you. Thank you for listening to me. Thank you for letting me talk through it. Thank you for forgiving me,” I add with another entirely ungraceful sobbing hiccup.
“I’m not used to talking about my feelings.
Wow, that sounds sad.” I’m so used to trying to hide what I’m going through to not burden anyone else around me because I rarely have the time and energy to even deal with it myself.
He extracts himself from my hands and vacates the floor, instead sitting next to me on the bed.
He pulls me down into a firm cuddle. “I told you, sweetheart. You don’t have to do this alone.
Your work, your fears, your celebrations.
” His lips are a featherlight press against my skin. “I’m here to share all of it with you.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “But ....” His breath hitches, nerves tensing his muscles. My cheeks hurt from trying to keep a smirk at bay. “A decade and a half, hm?” I tease. I’m tired and drained, but the familiarity of our banter soothes me.
He relaxes and chuckles, warm and low. It sets my skin ablaze. “Over a decade and a half, if we’re being accurate.”
My heart kicks like a horse. I can’t mourn the lost time or think about the scars of strife right now. Not when this feels so good. I can only laugh at our mutual stubbornness and screwups. “I think we both might be complete fools.”
“Yeah,” he laughs. “I think so.”
I’m so much clearer as I curl into his chest, though all the energy has left me.
Everything I’ve been holding on to, every fear and every doubt that I’ve been trying to keep sealed, is exposed and held softly in his hands.
Gentle, safe, secure. To be known, to be loved, to be trusted, is to be free.
And I think I finally understand what that freedom feels like.
Maybe this time, it will all work out.