Grace
I’m starting to roll over, preparing to slide out of the bed, when a heavy arm drapes across my midsection; his hand splays across my stomach, holding me in place.
“You promised you wouldn’t go anywhere.” He sounds half asleep, as though me moving interrupted him mid-dream.
“You want me to stay?” I hate the hint of hope I hear in my words.
It’s not that I don’t want to have hope, it’s more so the repercussions of things not working after having hope.
One person can only deal with so much loss before they can’t take it anymore.
I roll back over to face him. It’s dark, but I can still make out the tiny smile he gives me as he squeezes my hip.
“Never in my life have I wanted you to leave.” The emotion in his voice is almost palpable as it claws at my chest.
“Tucker.” My own voice is raw. I blink in the darkness, willing away the moisture filling my eyes.
“Will you stay with me?”
“I just need a minute.” I reach up and graze his cheek with my fingertips before sliding out from beneath his grasp.
I quickly exit the room and descend the stairs before any tears fall. All of my senses feel entirely overwhelmed. My heart is pounding with an intensity that could cause internal bruising, and my breaths are short and sharp. My thoughts spiral further with each step I take toward the front door.
Tucker and I just slept together.
It felt like no time had passed, and like nothing had changed between us. I liked it. I really liked it.
The cool night air hits me as soon as I step outside, the moon overhead shining brightly. Leaving the room in just Tucker’s discarded button down probably wasn’t the best idea I’ve had. Wrapping my arms around myself with a small shiver, I flop down onto the bench seat.
“Fuck,” I say to myself on a long exhale.
That was a lot, especially if I’m on the brink of tears.
Not to sound like a cold-hearted bitch, but I don’t cry all that much.
As a small child, I used to cry a lot about Mom when she first left, and I cried a lot when I left Beaumont Ridge, but eventually the tears dried up and sort of stayed that way.
That might’ve been the last time I truly cried.
And now here I am, sitting on the wraparound porch of my literal teenage dreams, fighting back tears over the man inside who built this porch to keep me close to him, no matter what.
It’s hard to tell if they’re tears of joy at what’s happening now, heartbreak from the past, or just plain and simple overwhelm, but I’m leaning toward the latter.
I’ve often wondered over the years about whether I’d inherited any of mom’s traits.
I was so young when she left, so I aways assumed any similarities would be hereditary instead of influenced.
Am I a runner as well? I basically just ran out on Tucker, after all.
Sure, I’ll go back inside eventually, but what if Mom once thought the same thing?
Goosebumps that have nothing to do with the temperature prickle across my skin.
Wiping away the remnants of my small breakdown, I force myself to stand up and go back inside, but the sudden onslaught of a realization puts me straight back on my ass—literally.
The last time Tucker and I slept together before it all fell apart, was in his bed.
Granted, it was a different bedroom back then, but the sentiment remains the same, which is just as much of an emotional punch to the gut.
A renewed sense of fear over the past repeating itself sprouts up deep in my stomach.
As badly as I want to believe the past won’t repeat itself, it’s always going to be in the back of my mind. We loved each other so much, and we still fell apart. We’d be the definition of insane if we put ourselves through that again, expecting a different outcome, wouldn’t we?
Tiptoeing back into Tucker’s room proves unwarranted—he’s exactly where I left him, lying on his side and looking right at the doorway I’ve stopped in. He props himself up on his elbow, giving me a sleepy smile. “Hey, you.”
His voice is thick with sleep, giving it a gravelly tone that has my stomach flipping. “You’re still awake?”
“Of course.” He pats the side of the bed I left empty. “You comin’ back to bed now?” I both love and hate the hope I hear in his voice. But he knows as well as I do that I could never say no to him.
I close the distance between the door and his bed in a few short strides, sliding back in beside him.
His arms immediately envelope me, pulling me into his side.
My body relaxes against his on instinct, my hand finding his chest and resting just above his heart.
It beats slow and steady beneath my touch, his breathing deep and even as he grabs my hand in his and kisses my forehead.