Chapter 47
FORTY-SEVEN
DAISY
Three weeks. That’s all I have left. Twenty-one days before I need to be back in Willow Creek—twenty, really, considering we’re quickly barreling toward midnight.
Connor’s thumb on my thigh is the only thing keeping my thoughts at bay while the sun sets over the lake.
He’s got his hand on me under the table, my body angled so Tanner won’t spot it on the other side of me.
I’m pretty sure he’s too wrapped up in recounting his surfing story from last summer to even notice.
“Are you okay?” Connor whispers when Luke brings out another bottle of wine.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” I tell him, but my voice sounds wrong. He squeezes my thigh softly, his eyes flickering between mine, and for a second, I think he might be considering dragging me away from the table to interrogate me in private.
“To reckless college nights,” Luke exclaims when he returns, a bottle of wine in each hand that he holds up mimicking a toast. “And another year of them to go around.”
They all chime in, raising their glasses in turn.
No one seems to notice that I don’t join in immediately.
Because I won’t be here next year. I won’t be meeting Luke’s sister or skipping class to stuff my face with baked goods at The Independent.
And when they all pack up their cars and drive up here this time next year, it won’t be my bed that Connor sneaks into in the middle of the night.
I slide my hand out from his and reach for my wineglass, shuffling a little closer to Tanner with the movement to buy myself some space. I need to think—need some perspective.
Sometimes when I work on a scene for too long, I lose sight of the full picture. I think I’ve started to lose sight of our big picture.
I’ve broken every single rule we’ve had over the last few weeks. I knew it was a bad idea to get close to him, yet I let it happen anyway.
I’m not paying attention to any of the conversation around the table, or the way Connor keeps stealing glances my way while I continue to sip my wine until it’s all gone. Eventually, he leans across the space between our chairs and lowers his voice so only I can hear.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nod, licking the last drop of wine off my lips. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
I know he’s not convinced, that he can see right through me. So I help Finn clear the table, just to buy myself some time.
By the time we finish loading the dishwasher and step back into the living room, they’re all sprawled on the couches, a movie I don’t recognize playing on the TV.
Finn drops down in next to Vanessa, and I try not to glance at the open spot beside Connor and the way he’s looking at me like he wants to grab my hand and pull me into his lap.
Instead, I head for the glass doors, pushing them open and stepping out in the crisp evening air. It’s colder than yesterday, and I breathe it in, letting it wash over me and hoping it’ll numb some of the rolling emotions inside of me.
I’m staring at the waves rolling against the shore in the dark when I hear the door slide open and shut behind me.
His movements are slow and calculated, like he’s afraid of spooking me.
Then his strong arms lean against the railing beside me, and I’m reminded of how they felt wrapped around me earlier.
His arm brushes against mine for the briefest of seconds, and the touch has little fires erupting everywhere against my skin.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” he asks, his eyes locked on the water.
He knows there’s something wrong. I know he knows, but I’m not ready to tell him. Not sure how to tell him really, because I realize how far beyond doomed we’ve gone, and I don’t really know how to extract myself without destroying us both in the process.
I nod, leading the way to the stairs down to the beach.
Our shoes sink into the sand, hands buried deep in our pockets, neither of us touching as we follow the shoreline.
I’m both relieved and disappointed that he’s not reaching for me the way he usually does, and I find myself missing him already even though he’s right there.
“I love the stars.”
“I know you do,” he says, over the sound of the waves softly crashing against the shore.
It strikes me that he knows me in a way no one else has ever known me before. The realization knocks the wind right out of me.
“I think I’m falling in love with you.” The admission rings out between us like an echo in a valley.
I still, my feet sinking into the sand and holding me in place.
“You can’t say that.” Not today. Not now. Not when I feel like I’m already falling apart.
“Why not?”
“You just can’t.” I’m grasping for any excuse that can fight this battle for me. “We have rules.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. Like I’m not about to break in front of him. “All of the other ones have pretty much gone out the window already.”
His hand reaches out, fingers brushing against my skin as he sweeps a lose strand of hair behind my ear. Then he’s taking one step closer, his hand coming around to cup my cheek and angling my head up to his, and I know what comes next.
My hand finds his chest, fingers itching to curl into the soft material of his sweatshirt—the same one I slept in last night. I fight that feeling and steel myself against his touch, my eyes sweeping up to finally meet his.
“We need to stop this,” I say, the words lodging themselves in my throat and catching against the lump that’s formed there. I swallow to try and ease the tightness. It doesn’t help.
Connor’s brow furrows. “What are you talking about.”
“This thing, it’s over.” I feel his entire body tensing under my hand like I’ve just forced him into the icy cold water behind us.
“Did something happen?” he asks, trying to take a step closer, but my hand on his chest keeps him at a distance.
“No.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We said we weren’t going to get invested,” I remind him.
“Well, I’m invested,” he argues, his fingers closing around my hand. I pull my hand away, feeling the first few drops of rain as if the sky is crying for me when I can’t. I feel the walls start to close in again, making it harder to breathe.
I shake my head. “You can’t love me.”
“Why not?”
“Because everyone who loves me just takes and takes and takes from me, and I can’t have that with you,” I shout, my voice echoing across the water. “Everyone always needs something from me, Connor. But what about me? Who do I get to need?”
“You can have me.”
It hurts to swallow the words I really want to say, so I can make room for the ones that eventually form. “I really wish I could.”
His world doesn’t fit into mine. I don’t want him to try and fit it, because I know how painful it is to have to force your mismatching piece into a puzzle you don’t belong in.
He tries to reach for me, but I turn before he can. If I don’t walk away right now, I’ll let him pull me under.
He calls my name, but I don’t turn back, and I know I’m a coward for it.
Because it’s easier to walk away now than face the fact that my entire future is mapped out by people who don’t know me or care enough to ask me what I want.
And I’m scared that if I stick around Connor will end up looking at me like that too—like he’s no longer seeing me.
This is what has to happen. It’s the only way.
The rain is light and sweet, dotting across my skin as if trying to wash me clean of his touch and this whole conversation.
Aiden is sitting at the empty dining table when I get back to the house. He looks up from his phone when I step through the sliding doors. I push my hair back, trying to get the wet strands out of my face.
“Are you okay?” he asks, clearly reading something on my face that I’m trying my hardest to keep hidden. I wonder if it’s really that obvious or if Aiden is just that good at reading me.
I nod, crossing my arms over my chest and trying to hold myself together.
His eyes narrow at something behind me, and a second later the door slides open again and I feel Connor step in behind me.
I tense, as his close proximity sends a small current of warmth through me. I fight the urge to lean into it.
He hovers behind me for a second, seemingly torn between whether or not to give our conversation another go even though Aiden is here.
He must decide to leave it for the night, because he steps around me and heads toward the hallway, not bothering to glance back at me even once. And I wish I didn’t notice. Wish I wasn’t holding my breath, my eyes trailing after him while he goes.
It’s not fair for me to hope for it, not when I’m the one forcing him to walk away.
“Something happen?” Aiden’s gruff voice pulls my attention to him.
“No,” I answer, honestly. He’s quiet for a second, assessing me. Then he looks out the window behind me and says, “You know, I was thinking about driving into the city early.” My eyes lift to meet his and there’s nothing but concern swimming in his brown eyes. “Do you want a ride?”
“I thought you were on your bike.”
He shrugs. “Luke saw the rain coming in and let me switch him for his car.”
I’m pretty sure he’s lying, but I don’t bother calling him out on it, not when he offers and definitely not when I climb into the passenger seat twenty minutes later and spot his haphazardly packed bag in the back seat next to mine.
It’s the realization that he’s doing this for me—that he’s changed his plans without even knowing why that finally has tears streaming down my face.
And I realize that there is so much more to this brooding man than everyone else thinks, because there’s no way that the grump they’re all talking about would do something like this for someone he barely knows, and I think I love him a little bit for it.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks when he pulls onto the interstate.
“Not really.”
He nods once, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. I think he might leave it at that, but a second later his deep voice fills the car again. “We all have dark parts. Don’t shut people out for the sake of keeping them hidden.”
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, the taillights of the car in front of us illuminating his face in a soft glow. “And you? What’s your dark part?”
“I’m not sure you would believe me even if I told you.
” He smiles like he’s in on a joke I don’t know anything about.
That’s all he says before silence descends on us for the remainder of the journey home.
He turns on the radio halfway into the drive, soft rock filling the car and serving as the soundtrack to my whirling thoughts.
When he pulls up in front of my apartment building, I stare at the empty parking space Connor usually parks in. As if sensing where my thoughts have gone, he turns to me, looking at me in the dark. “Nothing is permanent, Daisy. That doesn’t mean it’s not worth fighting for.”