Chapter 32
thirty-two
Percy
I screwed up, and I have no idea how to fix it.
Ever since that disastrous conversation in the butterfly garden, Chris has been pulling away.
He answers when I respond and smiles at my jokes.
He holds my hand readily enough when I’m brave enough to grab it and goes through all the right motions during lunch and the rest of that afternoon.
If I close my eyes, I can almost pretend things are the same as they have been.
But his smiles never quite reach his eyes, and though I touch him whenever I can work up the courage, he doesn’t try to steal touches of his own. Not once.
Fuck, I know I messed up. It’s all I can think about as we wander through our usual downtown haunts. We’d talked about touring a resort this afternoon, but he doesn’t bring it up, so neither do I. I can’t get his accusations out of my head.
He’s right—of course he is. I’m letting my anxiety control my life.
There’s no reason for me to be so nervous.
Chris came out, and sure, it didn’t go as well for him as it could have, but he’d gotten through it.
My dad’s never given me any cause to doubt how much he loves me.
Neither had my mom. And yet, no matter how much I yearn to be out and proud, part of me remains terrified of disappointing them.
Of letting my dad down when he needs me most—of dishonoring my mom’s memory.
She’d died never knowing who I am because I was too afraid to reveal the truth.
Her vision of my future had given her the strength she needed to let go, knowing I’d be okay on my own.
And it had been based on a lie. How can I come out now when it would be tantamount to admitting she’d never gotten to see the real me?
How can I be anything else but the son she knew without letting her down and proving myself unworthy of her love?
So now I’m letting Chris down instead.
And fuck, that’s the bitter truth, isn’t it?
I’m making Chris feel worthless and unloved, just like I’d sworn I never would again.
No matter what he’d said about living in the moment or taking things slow, this is clearly more than some casual fling to him.
It is to me, too. But I don’t know how to reconcile my hopes with my fears.
The mere thought of coming out to my dad in the butterfly garden had sent me into a tailspin.
How am I supposed to prove to Chris what I want when I can barely admit it to myself?
Maybe the best thing I can do for him is walk away again, even if it makes him hate me all over.
Just the idea of it leaves me trembling.
I don’t know if I could survive losing him a second time.
Whatever other baggage we have, I need him to still be part of my life when this is all over—if not as lovers, then at least as friends.
All the more reason to break things off now so you can preserve what you have left of your friendship before you ruin it forever.
Guilt curdles my insides. Two years ago, I’d been too much of a coward to stand with Chris when he needed me. Now, here I am two years later, too big a coward to walk away when I know I should.
It would be ironic if it wasn’t so pathetic.
“Want to grab some dinner?” I eventually ask in a final gambit to salvage the day.
Chris shrugs.
“Great!” I force a grin I don’t feel. “I know just the spot.”
Chris’ eyebrows shoot up when he sees the restaurant I’ve chosen. “One painful experience wasn’t enough for you?”
Humor’s a good sign, right? “Well, we’ve eaten pretty much everywhere else on the island by now,” I say as I lead him into Huron Blue. “I figure it’s time we reclaim this spot and make it ours as well.”
Instead of laughing or looking excited, his smile dims. What the hell did I say wrong? “Um.” I fumble over my words. “Unless you’d rather go someplace else?”
He shrugs again. I’m really beginning to hate that innocuous gesture. It’s like he doesn’t care anymore where we are or what we’re doing—like he’s mentally checked out.
“Whatever,” he says. “This place is fine.”
I try to hang on to my threads of good humor as a different server leads us to our table. Though I request the same table we had that first disastrous date, it’s already occupied, so we end up a couple spots to the left. Definitely not a bad omen.
“So,” I say while Chris makes a point of studying his menu like it’s a philosophical treatise he needs to memorize. “It’s weird being back here, right? I mean, so much has changed since that night.”
He doesn’t respond, flipping to the next page of the menu.
I determinedly barrel on. “I mean, we’ve seen so much more of the island, been to so many more places.
Had so many awesome experiences. I’m glad you convinced me to relax and give this place another chance.
” My heart races, and I resist the urge to glance around the room as I slide my hand across the table. “To give us a chance.”
My fingertips brush against his hand, and he slides it back, ostensibly to take a sip of water. Once he sets the glass down, his hand moves to his lap. I slowly lean back, dying a little inside as my stomach roils.
Fuck. I’ve got to fix this. There must be something I can do to fix this.
The server arrives and takes our orders, delivering drinks and then food. I spend the entire time keeping up a steady commentary on anything that pops into my head. I probably sound unhinged to the other diners nearby, but I have to fill the awkward silence so that I don’t drown in it.
It doesn’t work. Despite my best efforts to carry on a conversation, Chris shuts me down at every opportunity. Simply getting him to respond to a question feels like pulling teeth. Finally, I can’t take it anymore.
My fork clatters to my barely-touched plate of food. “Jesus, Chris. It’s like you’re determined to make this dinner even worse than the last one here.” I bark a humorless laugh. “Maybe this place really is cursed.”
I expect Chris to ignore me like he has all night. To my surprise, he sighs softly. “What do you want from me, Perce?”
His voice comes out so tired, so defeated, it breaks my heart. Shards of ice ricochet through my veins. “I want you to talk to me! I want things to go back to the way they’ve been.”
Chris’ gaze locks on to mine. I can’t read his expression. He wears a mask of calm but with something else lurking beneath the surface. “And how is that?”
I wave a hand, my frustration growing as I struggle to find the words. “You know, the two of us, having fun. Facing this temporal anomaly together.”
His stoic expression slips as his lips tighten. “Are we in this together? Because from where I’m sitting, it feels an awful lot like you’re pushing me away again.”
A fresh wave of guilt sears through me. Hadn’t I thought about doing exactly that only a few hours ago? I glance down, swirling my fork through my mashed potatoes. “I don’t want to.”
“Then, why won’t you ever talk to me about us? About our future?” I look up sharply at the plea in his voice to find his intense gaze boring into me. “What are you so afraid of?”
The question hangs in the air between us.
I take a deep breath, hold it in for one, two, three heartbeats, then exhale.
Here goes nothing. “I love you, Chris. Honestly, I’m not sure I ever stopped.
” I reach for his hand, and this time, he doesn’t pull away.
His fingers tremble in my grip, and I brace myself, forcing the rest of the words out.
“But no matter how hard I try, I can’t forget the relief in my mom’s eyes when I made her that promise.
I can’t ignore how much my dad is still hurting.
What if…what if my sexuality is the thing that finishes tearing us apart?
What if coming out breaks my family more than my mom’s passing already has? ”
Chris squeezes my hand, a sad smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Perce, this is your dad we’re talking about. How many times does he text you every Saturday to check in?”
A faint blush colors my cheeks. “More than a couple.”
Chris gestures with his free hand as if to say, Well, there you go. “Your dad loves you, Perce. Coming out won’t change that.”
“Logically, I know that.” Frustration bleeds into my tone, directed toward myself, not Chris. “But knowing it and feeling it are two different things. That’s why I freaked when you asked me to tell my dad earlier. I don’t want to have to choose between you and my family.”
Chris’ expression closes off again, and he jerks his hand back, scowling.
“I’d never ask you to do that. But if we’re going to make this work, I need to know that you’re as serious about this as I am.
That you’d choose me as well as them. That there’s a future waiting for us when this is all over—when the time loop breaks, and we return to our normal lives.
Promise me that, and I’ll wait for you to be ready, however long it takes. ”
I open my mouth to reassure him, but the words won’t come.
It’s like I’m back in that bleak hospital room with my mom, her own urgent plea smothering me beneath the weight of her expectation.
Deep down, I’m still that same coward who’d let his fear rob him of his last opportunity to show his mom who he was. Chris deserves better. He always has.
“I don’t know if I can,” I whisper. His shoulders slump, the hope in his eyes dimming, and I add a touch frantically, “But that doesn’t mean this needs to end!
I’ll continue working on my shit, and in the meantime, we can keep doing what we’ve been doing.
” I try and fail to smile. “Live for today, remember?”
More cracks appear in his serene mask. There’s no hint of his earlier anger—only sorrow. Somehow, that’s a thousand times worse. My heart skips a beat when he slowly shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Perce. I can’t do this anymore.”
My pulse throbs in my throat. My breaths come so heavy, they’re almost pants. “But I thought…”
Maybe he reads the unspoken words on my face because he winces and swipes a hand through his silky hair.
“I love you, too, Perce. Of course, I do. And that’s precisely the problem.
” He exhales a shuddering breath. ”I’ve already let you get too close.
I trusted you with my heart once before, and you threw it away.
I’m not sure I’d survive if you did it again. ”
His words shred me apart no matter how justified they might be. I swallow, nodding numbly. “I understand.” It’s for the best. My voice turns pleading. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends when this is all over. Right?”
He shakes his head, tears cutting tracks down his cheeks. “I don’t know. Maybe…maybe someday.” He rises, tossing his cloth napkin onto the table. “For now, though, I think I need some space. Goodbye, Percy.”
I watch him leave, frozen in place even as part of me screams to run after him. To say whatever I must in order to make him understand how much he matters to me. To fight for him the way he deserves.
But I don’t because in the end, he’s right—when push came to shove, I’d been too scared to choose him yet again.