✧･Chapter 18 I Shouldnt
"What the fuck?"
The words are still echoing in my head.
'You've always had me.'
I don't realize I've gone still until Mae turns back around, her fingers catching on the hem of the shirt as she pulls it down into place.
"You okay?" She asks, softer now.
I stare at her, and then back at the place on her ribcage that's hidden again. Like it wasn't there, like it didn't just rip something open in me that never really healed.
"You remember," I say.
It's not a question and Mae freezes. It's so subtle, but I see it.
"Claire-"
"You remember," I repeat, sharper now, stepping toward her. "The wedding. That night. You remember all of it."
Her throat moves as she swallows, her gaze slipping. "I didn't-"
"Don't." My voice cuts low and tight. "Don't lie to me again."
The room shrinks and the air feels wrong. Mae exhales, something in her posture loosening like she's too tired to keep holding it up.
"I didn't think-"
"You didn't think?" I let out a short, humorless laugh. "You didn't think it was important to mention that you permanently tattooed something I said onto your body?"
"It's not like that."
"Then what is it like, Mae?" I snap. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks a lot like you've been lying to me this entire fucking time."
"I wasn't lying," she fires back. "I just didn't tell you everything."
"That's the same thing."
"No, it's not. Not when telling you would've made everything worse."
A bitter smile tugs at my mouth. "Worse for who?"
"For both of us."
"Oh, that's convenient, just because you're scared?" I shake my head. "You don't get to decide that."
"I'm not scared-"
"Bullshit."
She flinches.
"You are terrified," I continue, stepping closer, my voice dropping, sharper now. "You're terrified of what this is, of what it means, so you just pretend it didn't happen. Pretend I didn't happen."
"That's not fair."
"No?" My chest tightens. "You looked me in the eye and told me you didn't remember. Do you have any idea what that did to me?"
Silence, and then...
"I didn't think you cared like that."
That one hits, hard. Way too hard.
"Of course you didn't," I say, quieter now. "That would've made things complicated, right?"
"Claire-"
"No, I get it now." I nod slightly. "I really do."
The gallery flashes through my mind. Her mother. Chris. That life wrapped neatly around her like it already belonged.
"You've got your life," I say. "The one that makes sense. The one everyone expects you to have."
"That's not what this is-"
"Then what is it?" I gesture between us. "Because it's not real, Mae. Not if you can just shove it down whenever it gets too hard."
"I never said it wasn't real."
"You didn't have to."
That lands and I see the way it does, but I don't stop. "I think the worst part," I say, quieter now, "is that you meant it."
Mae goes still.
"The tattoo," I add. "You don't do that unless it meant something."
"It did," she says immediately.
My breath catches, throwing me off guard for a moment. "Then why?" I ask, my voice lowering. "Why hold onto that and throw the rest away?"
Mae breaks, slowly. "Because I couldn't have it!" She snaps. "I couldn't have you!"
Silence crashes down.
"I had a life," she continues, shaking. "Expectations, family, a future - and then you just showed up and made everything feel different."
I don't move.
"So yeah," she says, quieter, "I held onto that night because it was the only part I was allowed to keep."
Something in me splinters.
"And I tried to forget the rest," she admits. "Because remembering meant wanting something I couldn't have."
"You could've had me," I say, my voice rough.
"It's not that simple."
"Why not?" I step closer again. "Because of him? Because of your mom? Because it's easier to stay where you are than actually fight for something you want?"
"It's not just about me-"
"It never is," I cut in. "You never choose yourself."
"I am choosing!"
"You're choosing safe!" I fire back. "You're choosing a life that looks right instead of one that feels right!"
Her silence falters.
And then, I step closer. Close enough that my voice doesn't need to be loud anymore. It drops, quiet and devastating.
"You don't love him like that."
Mae's breath stutters, I see it.
"You wish you did," I continue, softer now, but it cuts deeper. "You wish that when he looks at you, something in you would just... give in."
"Claire-"
"You wish he could make your breath hitch," I say, my eyes locked on hers. "You wish he could make you feel even a fraction of what you felt for one night, six years ago."
"Stop," she whispers.
But I don't.
"Because you remember it," I press. "You remember exactly how it felt. And no matter how hard you try, he doesn't come even close."
Tears spill down her face. "That's not fair," she breathes.
"It's the truth," I say.
"And you know what?" My voice shakes now, but I don't stop. "You don't get to act like this just happened to you."
"I didn't-"
"You had a choice," I cut in. "You had a choice then, and you have one now."
My chest rises and falls unevenly.
"I don't stay, Mae." And that stops her. "I never have," I continue, quieter now. "I don't get attached. I don't... do this."
I gesture between us. "But I stayed."
Her breath catches.
"I stayed that night," I say, my voice breaking. "I didn't leave in the morning like I always do. I didn't walk away before it meant something."
My throat tightens. "I stayed because it was you."
"And yeah," I add, barely holding it together now, "I cared. A hell of a lot more than I should have."
Mae's eyes are locked on mine.
"I was in love with you."
The words land hard, and I watch the way her breath catches, how her eyes widen, and how she turns to take a step back. I see how it hits her, like a slap in the face, like that was never possible.
"I didn't say it then because I knew you'd run," I continue. "And I didn't say it when I came back because I thought you would come around. A part of me had always hoped that you felt the same way."
A tear slips down my cheek. "But you didn't," I whisper. "Not enough."
"That's not true-"
"Then prove it!"
The challenge hangs between us, but Mae doesn't move, doesn't speak... doesn't choose.
And that... that's it.
I nod slowly, something in me finally breaking for good. "I can't do this anymore," I say quietly.
"Claire-"
"I mean it." My voice steadies in a dangerous way. "I can't keep being something you almost choose."
Her face crumples.
"I need something real," I say. "And you-" my voice falters, "you don't know how to give me that."
I take a step back. "I stayed for you once," I say softly. "I'm not doing it again."
And this time, when I turn and walk away, I don't stop.
"Claire- wait, fuck!"
I ignore it and I make it two steps, maybe three. And then I feel it, her hand catches my wrist.
Not hard, but enough. Enough to stop me. My breath stutters as I freeze, my back still to her, my pulse suddenly too loud, too fast, like my body knows something I don't want to.
"Don't," I say, my voice low, strained. "Mae, don't even-"
"Stop walking away from me."
The words aren't loud, but they hit me hard and something in my chest tightens as I turn, just enough to look at her.
"You don't get to say that," I breathe. "Not now."
Her grip tightens slightly, not letting go. "I do when you're wrong."
A hollow laugh leaves me. "I'm not wrong. You just proved that."
"No," she shakes her head, stepping closer, her voice breaking, "I froze."
"That's the same thing."
"It's not," she insists, her eyes searching mine like she's trying to make me see something I've already decided not to. "You asked me to choose in one second what I've been running from for six years."
"Yeah," I say, pulling slightly against her grip. "It's shitty of me to ask you to choose me, huh?"
Her hand doesn't let go and I see the way her jaw clenches. "Don't say that."
I laugh, humorless, shaking my head as I try again to pull my arm away from her. "Why not? It's true. And you know what? I should be used to it by now, I was never the one who got chosen." I start, my eyes starting to burn, but I don't stop there.
"I'm always the one in the background, just out of reach. I-"
I didn't have the time to even finish my thought before I watched Mae release my wrist, her hand flying to the front of my shirt and gripping it like her life depended on it.
There's no hesitation, and no warning.
She yanks me forward, and the second I stumble into her space, she closes the distance completely - her lips crashing into mine like she's been holding it back for years and finally snapped.
I freeze.
Completely.
For half a second, I can't even process what's happening-my brain still stuck somewhere between anger and heartbreak and the echo of my own words hanging in the air.
'I was in love with you.'
And then my body catches up. Fast, needy, and so fucking desperate.
My hands fly up without thinking, gripping both sides of her face as I pull her into me harder, like I need to make sure she's real, like she might disappear if I don't hold onto her tight enough.
I kiss her back just as fiercely, just as desperate, and something breaks loose in my chest the second I do.
A breathless sound slips out - hers, mine, I don't even know and I can feel my lip trembling slightly against hers.
I don't care.
Because it feels... It feels like everything.
Like my chest is about to split open from the force of it, like every feeling I've buried for six years just ignited all at once. My heart is pounding so hard it almost hurts, my entire body lit up and burning like I've been thrown straight into something I was never supposed to touch again.
Her grip tightens in my shirt, pulling me closer, and I go without resistance, pressing into her like there's no space left between us, like there can't be.
My fingers curl tighter against her jaw, along her neck, holding her there as I kiss her deeper, harder, like I'm trying to make up for every second we lost.
It's messy, and very uncoordinated. Desperate in a way that makes it impossible to breathe properly.
And it's not enough. It's still not enough. It's never fucking enough. Because this - this - is what I spent years trying to forget.
The way she feels against me. The way everything else disappears the second we touch. The way my body recognizes hers like it never learned how to let her go.
It hits me all at once, overwhelming and consuming, and I feel it everywhere. My chest, my throat, under my skin, like I'm on fire from the inside out and there's no putting it out now that it's started.
I pull her closer, if that's even possible, my grip tightening, my breath breaking against her mouth as the kiss turns deeper, needier, like I don't know where I end and she begins anymore.
Then my hands move, sliding up to her shoulders before I can think better of it, and I shove her back - not to hurt her, not really, just needing space, needing something to break the intensity before it consumes me entirely.
But it comes out harder than I intend, and Mae stumbles, her lower back hitting the edge of the table behind her hard enough to rattle everything on it.
Something clatters to the floor, something else shifts, but neither of us looks away.
I'm staring at her, my lips swollen, my chest heaving like I've just run miles instead of stood in one place. My jaw clenches so tight it aches, like if I don't hold it together physically, I'll completely lose control.
She stares right back at me.
Her hands grip the edge of the table like it's the only thing keeping her upright, her knuckles whitening under the pressure, her breathing just as fast, just as uneven as mine.
Her chest rises and falls sharply, and there's something in her expression, something dazed and undone, and that makes my stomach twist.
"What the fuck, Mae?" I manage, but my voice comes out rough, dragged from somewhere deep in my chest, unsteady in a way I can't hide.
She doesn't answer, she doesn't even try. She just keeps looking at me like she hasn't caught up yet, like she's still somewhere in the middle of that kiss, still feeling it, still in it.
And that... That makes everything worse. Because I feel it too. Still lingering, still burning under my skin, still pulling me forward even when every logical part of me is screaming to stop.
My hands twitch at my sides, like they don't know what to do without her there.
And then she moves.
Slow at first, her gaze never leaving mine as one of her hands drops from the table to the hem of her shirt. My breath catches before I can stop it, my entire body going tense as I watch her fingers curl into the fabric.
There's a split second, just one, where I think she might hesitate, but she doesn't. In one smooth, fluid motion, she pulls the shirt over her head and tosses it somewhere across the room without breaking eye contact.
And it hits me all at once.
Not just the sight of her - though that alone is enough to make my chest tighten painfully, to make my breath stutter - but the intent behind it.
The way she's looking at me like she's done fighting it, like she's done pretending, like she's stepping fully into something neither of us has been able to escape since the second we touched.
My hands start to shake, actually shake.
My pulse slams against my ribs, fast and overwhelming, heat rushing through me so suddenly it makes me feel off-balance. My gaze drags over her before I can stop it, catching on familiar lines and unfamiliar ones alike, on tattoos and skin and everything I've spent years trying not to think about.
It feels like my body is reacting before I can catch up, like every nerve is lit up at once, like something deep in my chest is pulling tighter and tighter until I can barely breathe around it.
"What are you-" I start, but my voice falters halfway through, like it doesn't have the strength to finish the thought.
Because I already know. Because I don't think I could stop this even if I tried.
Mae doesn't look away, not even for a second.
"Claire," she says, her voice low, rough, just as unsteady as mine feels, and there's something in it that makes my stomach drop and twist at the same time.
Then, firmer, "shut the fuck up and kiss me."
And I shouldn't.
God I shouldn't.