Chapter Twelve #2
I think of all the times Jack has come over for dinner, to spend time with me, and the way I hurriedly shuffled him away from my mother before they could have more than a surface-level conversation.
The last thing I need is for him to find out about my two-week-stand father, my mother’s hopeless-romantic attitude, my turbulent life.
Not while his life is filled with a gorgeous house, the perfect nuclear family, and everything he could ever want—everything that my and Mom’s little family of two never had.
While I let Tyler in full force (and felt the ramifications of that decision once he was gone), I worked extra hard to not repeat the same mistake the second time around.
When he senses that I’m not going to say anything more, Tyler nudges me with his shoulder.
He opens his mouth to say something, but we go through another rocky patch of turbulence and he pivots to running his free hand up and down my arm soothingly.
Even though I’m wearing a hoodie, I can feel the searing warmth of his touch through my sleeve.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to ground myself in the sensation and forget the choppiness of the airplane slicing through the air.
After a few more agonizing minutes, the pilot’s voice rejoins us.
“Thanks for bearing with us, folks. Looks like we got through the rough patch. It should be smooth sailing from here.” Sighs of relief echo around us, and Tyler takes that as his cue to slide his hand off my arm, the other still clasped around mine.
My body is practically vibrating from the adrenaline comedown, and I can’t help but realize that with Tyler by my side, surviving that scary moment of bad air didn’t feel so impossible.
Still awful, but definitely not impossible. But I can’t think about that right now.
Tyler continues speaking as if we didn’t miss a beat.
“I know you didn’t do it to hurt me, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
And it doesn’t mean I don’t think we could’ve been something amazing if you’d given us the chance.
” Even though his expression is neutral, if not a little wistful, I can feel the frustration simmering beneath the surface.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the hum of the engines, looking down at my lap instead of at his face. “It’s just…it wasn’t meant to be, Ty. Please leave it at that.”
Now that the plane is coasting along smoothly and a general air of peace is restored among the passengers, Tyler lets my hand go. I don’t like the emptiness I feel when he does, but when I look up and lock eyes with him, his jaw is set and his eyes are sad.
“I guess we’ll never know,” he says quietly.
He’s closing himself off to me, leaning back in his seat and grabbing his headphones, plugging them into the armrest and scrolling through the screen’s movie options.
“I hope Jack realizes what a lucky man he is.” With those parting words, he taps the play button on the latest blockbuster superhero film—the next one in our favorite series, which I still can’t bring myself to watch—and effectively ends our conversation.
And I’m surprised by the pang of regret in my gut while I watch him do it. Left alone to my own thoughts, I pop in my earbuds, but instead of queuing up another podcast episode, I switch to a white noise video of a thunderstorm, closing my eyes.
My and Jack’s relationship is stable, serious, and planned to a T—going to college, getting our degrees, moving in together, getting married, starting our lives, a family…
all the things that feel so far down the road that they’re not worth worrying about at seventeen.
But if there’s anything I’ve learned from Sherri Austin’s life, it’s that those years creep up on you faster than you expect them to, and the best possible thing you can do to save yourself is to be prepared.
And while I do know that I love Jack, I also know that I don’t get that same sparkly feeling in my chest that I got when I was with Tyler.
Instead, I feel the warm, cozy feeling of a familiar security blanket, which is different—but does that necessarily mean it’s worse?
Tyler made me feel brave and daring. Our relationship was filled with fun and love and adventure.
Jack makes me feel safe and secure. Our relationship is filled with comfort and stability.
Both, in their own ways, make (or made) me feel loved.
The realization dawns on me slowly but punches me in the chest all the same: My time with Tyler was vastly different from my time with Jack, yes.
But maybe not worse.
Which leaves a question floating through my mind as I drift off to sleep, my gut feeling like a yawning hole with no bottom—is it better to be loved with no life plan, or to have a comfortable life cut out for you, even if it lacks adventure?
A year ago, I thought I knew the answer. Now I’m not so sure.
Jack and I are growing distant, and even though I keep telling myself that we’ll fix this, that I know we will, because he’s my boyfriend and we have a plan and everything is going to be okay, the edges of the hole of panic in my stomach only stretch wider.
It’s just some long-distance hiccups, I try to reason with myself. It has to be.
Because I shattered Tyler Ferris’s heart for this. It has to be worth the cost, or I’ll never, ever forgive myself.