Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Bellamy
“Thanks for taking me with you today,” I tell Larissa as I climb out of her car.
“Thanks for going with me. Hollis worries to death when I go to those things by myself. He's afraid some creep will be there waiting on me, and I'll end up being murdered.”
“What is it with us and murder theories?” I ask, laughing. “You used to be afraid that I was going to get murdered with men swinging by for quick sex, and now how Hollis is afraid that you're going to get whacked going on landscape … consultations or whatever you call it.”
Larissa shrugs. “If you need anything, call me. I’ll be around if you get bored later.”
I don't have to tell her that I won't be bored later if I have my way. She already knows. I can tell by the little grin spreading across her cheeks
“Goodbye, Riss,” I say, shutting the door.
She waves as I head up the driveway and back to my house.
The nurse’s car from the afternoon shift is still in the driveway. They sit with Dad on most days. I didn't want them to, but he insisted. He said that it would make him sicker and more frustrated to know that I was spending every minute of my life sitting there waiting on him to die.
My stomach roils as I remember those words coming from his lips.
I unlock my door and walk inside. I shut the door behind me. My bag slips off my shoulder and onto the table under the mirror as I head to the kitchen.
I don't even get to the refrigerator when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and smile.
Coy: Are you home yet?
Me: Just got here. Are you done golfing yet?
Coy: Just got back. Can I come over?
Me: You mean you're not on the way yet?
I wait for his reply. Before a text could even be typed out, a knock sounds against my door.
A bubble of excitement bubbles inside me as I make my way back through the house. I open the door without checking to see who it is.
There he stands.
Coy Mason has never looked hotter.
He has on a pair of jeans with holes that look like they were created by wearing them. A black hoodie with a Braxton College logo emblazoned on the front is stretched over his chest. His hair is crazy, probably from being on the golf course, and his lips appear to be slightly swollen.
But the thing I really like about Coy standing on my doorstep is that he's on my doorstep at all. The fact that he's smiling and I'm smiling, and he reaches for me like it's the most natural thing in the world—that's what I love most of all.
I take his hand and yank him inside. He kicks the door closed behind him.
He wastes no time in cupping my face in his hands and covering my mouth with his own. His breath is hot, his hands are cold, and together they have a dizzying effect on me.
“Well, that's a great way to say hello,” I joke, pulling back so I can fiddle with his hair.
He gives me a shy smile. “I've waited all day to do that.”
“Have you? Because I've waited all day for you to do that.”
We roll with the easiness between us, but I can see in his eyes that he has the same reservations as me.
Today is Sunday. It's usually my favorite day of the week. It's lazy and slower, and people are generally more grateful and kinder on this particular day.
But today being Sunday gives me a lot of trepidation because tomorrow will be the first day of the week. It will pop the little bubble that we've somehow created. Lives will go back to normal, business will occur, and having Coy mostly to myself will end.
“Do you want a drink?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I thought about you today.”
I wrap my arms around his waist like I’ve done it a thousand times. “What did you think about?”
“Just about how much fucking time we’ve wasted fighting each other and pretending this didn’t exist between us.”
My stomach squeezes into a tight knot at his words.
I had similar thoughts throughout the day.
I thought about him when I got up and made myself breakfast. What would it be like to expect him to come back after golf?
When I stripped my bed after our night together, I thought about how I’d only spent one night with him in my home in my life.
How many nights could we have spent if we’d gotten along?
I thought about him at the house with Larissa.
What would it feel like to see his children with baseball mitts and guitars running around the yard while they wait on dinner?
It’s a wonderful vision of a future that I would manifest for myself if I could.
But I can’t.
Even wishing for something that feels like it is like inviting heartbreak into my life. It’s too good. Too perfect. And if I know anything about life, it’s that nothing good and perfect exists.
I lace my fingers with his.
He brings our interlocked hands to his mouth and presses a kiss to our joined knuckles. “I’m not going to lie to you,” he says, working his fingers back and forth against mine. “I’m nervous about this.”
My heartbeat picks up as I wonder if he’s already second-guessing whatever this is between us.
I can’t blame him if he is. I’m scared too. There’s so much that can go wrong here, so much that’s untested, unproven. We’re taking our history and relationship that’s worked one way and trying to flip it on its head.
But instead of just a friendship on the line, it’ll be my heart now. And I don’t know if I’m fully prepared to sacrifice that.
“Stop it,” he says, pulling me into his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “You’re overthinking everything on a level that only you can achieve.”
“It’s what I do best.”
He smiles against my hair. “Being with you is the easiest thing that I’ve ever done. It’s crazy, Bells. Wild.”
“I know.” I wrap my arms around his waist and tuck my cheek against his chest. “I woke up this morning and couldn’t believe this was real. It feels impossible. But then I sort of took stock of myself and how I felt, and I realized it’s the most natural progression in the world.”
He nods. “I don’t know how this is going to work. Do you?”
I shake my head slowly. “I don’t know, Coy. Can it work?”
“It has to.”
“In what capacity?” I pull away far enough so I can look into his eyes. “I mean, what does this look like for us? Is there an us?”
He looks into the deepest part of my eyes and smirks. “You better fucking believe there’s an us.”
His confidence, something that’s driven me nuts for years, feels different. Instead of being irritating, it makes me feel safe in the strangest way.
“I would never ask you to leave Savannah,” he tells me. “Not with your father being so sick and your friends here. Your life is here. But …” He gulps. “I can’t just walk away from my life in Nashville either. You know?”
His forehead mars as I absorb his statement.
The words rattle around in my chest. I already knew this was true, and this conversation was coming, but to hear the uncertainty about what comes next causes a smidgen of panic to spread through me.
“I know you can’t leave your career,” I tell him softly. “I wouldn’t want you to do that. It would be stupid. But I can’t leave my dad either. I won’t.”
He bites his lip, nodding. “We’ll figure it out.”
I want to figure it out. I want to figure it out as much as I want my next breath. But there are a lot of things that I fear we’re ignoring.
“Is this realistic?” I ask him. “I mean, I’ll be here. You’ll be there. Is it worth it to try to make it work?”
“Do you think we have a choice?”
I snuggle against his chest, his words providing a comfort that I didn’t know I needed. His sweatshirt is soft and smells like him.
“The thought of waking up and having you be gone again … doesn’t even break my heart. It broke before. It … it feels like my heart would be shattered.”
He inhales a deep, ragged breath.
“I’m scared, Coy. I’m scared of this not being feasible. If this can’t work out between us, a part of me thinks that we should just walk away now and preserve our friendship and let it be. It’s better than having to lose you all over again.”
“You don’t have to lose me.”
“You say that now,” I tell him. “But you don’t control everything.
I mean, I lost my mother. She didn’t choose that.
I’m about to lose my father.” I take in a shaky breath.
“I want to be with you so much that I can’t stand it.
Being in your arms feels like the one place in the world I should be.
But it comes with the possibility of so much pain … ”
He pulls me closer and holds me against him. I can hear his heartbeat through his shirt. It’s hard and rhythmic and so steady. I wish I could close my eyes and just stay right here forever.
“I know you’re scared,” he says. “And I’m happy you feel comfortable enough to tell me that. But why don’t you look at it the other way? Like instead of the possibility of having your heart broken, you have the possibility of having someone to help you through shit?”
I nod.
He grabs my shoulders and peels me away from him. A slow smile touches his lips.
“I love you, Bellamy,” he whispers.
My eyes go wide as a quick uptake of breath fills my lungs.
“I should have said that to you so many months or even years ago ’cause I’ve loved you since the day I made you eat that taco out of a leaf, mud, and grass,” he says.
I laugh, the memory coming back to me.
Tears fill my eyes.
My brain screams at me that I’m too exposed—that I’ve gone out on a limb for him before, and he’s broken my trust. But as I sort through that emotion and try to rationalize it, I realize it’s not fair to him … or to me.
I know he loves me. I feel it when he touches me, and I see it in his eyes. I’ve never felt like this about anyone, and I’ve never felt like this around anyone either.
But is that enough?
Because I know how the world works. It’s cruel and evil, and just because you love someone, it doesn’t mean they’re yours forever.
He nudges me. “I was kind of hoping you’d say it back.”
I sniffle. “You know that I love you too. I love you so much that it scares the shit out of me.”
Pride ripples across his face. “Let’s agree that this might get complicated and that we’re going to have to take it day by day.”
“And we have to communicate and be honest.”
“And we have to make each other a priority.”
I nod, liking the sound of this. It helps to soothe the vulnerability that rears its ugly head.
“We have to communicate,” I say.
“That's our weakness. We've never communicated well—unless it was with threats,” he says, laughing.
I laugh too.
It almost feels too good to believe, the answer to the manifestations that I didn’t put much faith in.
But the longer he holds me and doesn't rush me and the more things that he whispers into my ear about flights and cell phones and promises of everything that I've ever wanted, I find myself doing the one thing I've always feared more than anything else—I've put my trust in him.
My breathing evens out as soon as I make the decision. I'm without reservations but not without fear. But I figure a little fear is healthy.
“My mom is making meatloaf,” he whispers in my ear.
I laugh out loud. “Your mom makes great meatloaf.”
“We should totally go get some before my brothers eat it all.”
I hold my breath. “We?”
“Yep. I told you, I'm all-in, baby. This is just the way it's going to be now. You're going to have to trust me. If not, it’ll be really fucking awkward when I'm ringing the phone off the hook and showing up in the middle of the night when you refuse to answer.”
“Knock first in case Suit is here,” I joke.
I think steam comes from Coy’s ears. I stop it with a kiss.
“Let’s get meatloaf,” I tell him.
He readjusts our hands, locking our fingers together.
“Are you going to hold my hand all the way over there?” I joke.
He looks up at me stone-faced. “Hell, yes I fucking am. Might as well just go in guns blazing and let everyone know. Because I want them to know that when I am not here, they are now responsible for you too.”
“No, Coy,” I say, shaking my head. “That's … I don't … No.”
He spins me around and captures me in his arms. “You’re mine now. You better get used to this.”
As I look into his eyes, I don’t think it’s going to be hard to fall madly, stupidly in love with him. And that might be a good thing.
And it might not too.