Track 20 “Wanna Be with You”
“Wanna Be with You”
I WAS OPERATING on nothing but instinct and adrenaline.
I hadn’t slept in almost two days by the time I pulled up to E’s.
My phone was dead, and I probably looked like a travel-worn mess with my frantic movements and my curly hair in its loose ponytail that kept coming undone, but I didn’t give a damn.
I had traveled from Texas to Northern California and across the country to New Jersey in less than forty-eight hours, and I still had enough energy to run a whole marathon if I had to—and we’ve already established how I feel about running.
It was early evening when I arrived at his apartment building, I knew because the sun was low but not low enough to set. I had no idea if he was home, and I had no way to tell him I was there, but as fate would have it, I wouldn’t need to.
The main door to the building swung open effortlessly, as if it had been waiting for me all that time. The elevator opened at my first push of the button, and seconds later, I was standing before his door, at apartment 402.
My heart pounded in my chest, and my breathing felt shallow but strong. I lifted my hand to knock, but then I froze—something told me to grab the doorknob instead. So, I did.
The door swung open, and my eyes found him as if they already knew where he’d be—sitting on the ledge of the living room window, looking out at the town below him.
His head snapped toward the door, eyes narrowing. Then his stern and broody gaze softened as he recognized me. My stomach flipped in excitement.
He stood slowly, cautiously. Unsure which direction this was headed, but his eyes were full of hope for where it could lead.
“What are you doing here?”
I released a breath. “I’m tired of running.”
“You’re tired?” His brows shot up adorably, and I could almost smile in my sea of nerves.
“Yes,” I breathed.
He took a slow step toward me.
“Done pretending?”
“Yes.” He took another step, the corner of his mouth beginning to lift.
“You’re sure of it? Positive? Not going to change your mind in an hour and then run off somewhere—”
“E,” I sighed. “I just took a flight from Texas to California, to Jersey just to be here, okay? I’m serious. I know what I want. I love you. I want to be with you.”
His playful smile fell, and he went silent, his hands moving to his pockets. He pulled his bottom lip in and watched me as I continued.
“I’ve always loved you. I just… I couldn’t get my head wrapped around the idea that maybe this could actually work and wouldn’t go up in flames like everything else in my life. That maybe… maybe this was what it was supposed to be all along.
“I spent my whole life learning not to feel so I wouldn’t end up all screwed up from the house I was raised in.
I didn’t realize I was already screwed up, and I was taking you down with me.
And everyone else, for that matter. But you…
” I swallowed. “You’re the only real thing I’ve ever known, E.
You’re the only person I’ve ever been me around—just me.
You’re the only real love I’ve ever had.
I knew it… for a long time, but… once I realized it, I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you one day, so I just… buried it.”
“You’d never lose me.”
“I almost did. And even when I got you back, I still wasn’t brave enough to be with you. But I’m brave enough now. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
My bag fell to the floor as I took slow steps toward him, pouring my heart out to the man who always had it.
“I loved you when you took me for a drive in your first car. I loved you when you walked me home just so you could have ‘space.’ I loved you when you made me take the long way so I wouldn’t get caught. I loved you when you bought me the CD I didn’t have money for.”
I was right in front of him now.
“I loved you when you asked me to fall in love with you. I never answered that text… because I already was.”
He looked down the bridge of his nose at me, smirking with his cocky, crooked grin as he stood there, firm and relaxed, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“Damn, baby. You’re obsessed,” he said with a bite of his lip.
“Oh my—” I rolled my eyes. “You know what, never mind.” I turned and took a step toward the door, feigning annoyance at his teasing.
In one swift movement, he grabbed me by the elbow and spun me around, pulling me into him until his lips landed on mine. My skin tingled with electric waves, my whole being coming alive in the fireworks of our kiss. The loud crack and bright eruption our love deserved—booming symphonies and all.
His hand framed my jaw as he kissed me with everything.
Every hope he dared to dream. Every dream he dared to share.
Every moment of our once-lost future was there on his lips.
He kissed me with every ounce of heartbreak we had borne, and those he carried on his own.
He kissed me with all of it—all the love and all the despair.
And I soaked it all in as I greedily kissed him back.
When he finally pulled away, just far enough to look at me, his voice broke.
“I thought I lost you.”
“You didn’t,” I whispered, breathless. “You never could.”
He let out a shaky laugh, brushing his forehead against mine as he pulled me even closer.
“I’m never letting you walk away again.”
“Good,” I said, tears slipping down my cheeks and into my smile, “because I didn’t come here to walk away.”
He smiled at that. His hands wrapped around my waist, and he pulled me tightly, and for once, I didn’t try to memorize the feel of him. Because this time, I wouldn’t only have the memory—I’d have him.
We kissed and held each other for what must have been hours that day. We didn’t talk about anything. We just… stayed. Letting the love flow over and surround us. Letting it make us whole and live as it always should have.
We spent the entire next day tangled in each other in every way we could imagine.
And the next day.
And the day after that.
We mended days and months and years of heartbreak with the tying of our souls, and we silently vowed we would never let go. Because we’d finally never have to.
On Sunday, we made peach cobbler pie, and let it burn in the oven as we lost ourselves in each other once again. It was just as delicious as our first, maybe even better.
“You’re sure you want this?” he asked me as we lay in his bed.
It had been nearly a week, and he was still asking.
Still unsure if I was really going to stay, or if I’d run off again like I had so many times before.
He was right to be scared, after all I had put him through.
But I wasn’t running this time. I was certain.
And as I lay wrapped under his arm, in his perfect nook that seemed made just for me, I gave him every ounce of truth within me.
“Yes,” I said with a smile as I turned my eyes up to his. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good.” He kissed my temple, then he brought his mouth to my ear and whispered, “this is forever, Syd. There’s no getting out.”
He said it like I didn’t know. Like I didn’t know choosing to be with him was choosing the rest of my life.
Like I didn’t know loving him meant setting fire to every exit and watching the smoke rise behind me.
I always knew. It’s what scared the hell out of me for so long.
But it was also what gave me the greatest peace I had ever known.
Still, I had to tease him.
“Forever-forever, or like Taylor Swift forever, where it all goes up in flames, but you get a really good album out of it?”
He chuckled.
“Forever-forever,” he promised, dancing his fingers through mine, his other hand behind his head. “Even when you’re stubborn and annoying.”
“Oh, that’s a big promise,” I said, placing my hand on his chest to rest my chin. “Cause I plan on being really annoying. Stubborn, too.”
“Always have been,” he shrugged.
“Hey!” I slapped his chest lightly, and he let out a low and gravelly laugh.
“I love you,” I said when our laughter settled. “Forever.” And I meant it. The words were full of nothing but warmth and heart and soul and truth, and I watched as they lit his eyes and filled him.
“I love you forever.” He tucked a strand of loose hair behind my ear and smiled before he took my chin in his hand and kissed me once more. Then he held me tightly and didn’t let go.
I woke up early the next morning, wrapped in his strong arms. I lay there for a long while in complete contentment, eyes closed, a slight curve to my lips, and my back nestled against him and all his warmth.
In that moment of complete tranquility, I thanked God for everything that had brought me there.
I thanked Him for my parents’ eviction, which moved me from the city to a random suburban town I swore I’d never call home.
I thanked Him for the insane upbringing that left me shattered and ruined, and led to all the wrong choices I had to heal from.
I thanked Him for horrible first boyfriends and disloyal best friends who broke my spirit too young.
I thanked Him for the moments when I thought I lost it all.
And then I thanked Him for giving it all back to me when all I did was ask.
I thanked God for the broken roads He sent me on—every single one. Because all of them, even the ugly, winding ones, had led me straight to E.
When I reluctantly chose to pry myself free, I put on a random shirt of his, tied my hair back in a loose ponytail, and made coffee and pancakes with extra-crispy bacon—the way we’d order it from the diner on the mornings after I tried to escape home.
When E woke, he groggily strolled to the island in nothing but those thin sweatpants I loved so much.
He stared at me and smiled a knowing, crooked grin as he sipped his black coffee from his seat.
“What?” I asked bashfully when I noticed he’d been staring a second too long.
“Nothing,” he said with a slight shake of his head.
I tilted my head and placed a hand on my hip as I turned to face him.
“Tell me.”
“Nah,” he said with a playful frown. “I don’t wanna make you say it yet.”
I rolled my eyes in amusement and turned back to the stove to continue with breakfast. He waited a few seconds.
“Okay, now you can say it,” he said, grinning. I smiled over my shoulder at him.
“Say what?”
“Say I was right.”
“Really?” I chided, turning to face him fully.
“Mmm-hmm.” He nodded happily, waiting for his victory.
I rolled my eyes again and chewed on my cheek, hiding my smile for a long, quiet moment. Then I gave him his words. He deserved to hear them.
“You were right.”
He set his coffee down and stood, making his way around the island, a confident smirk permanent on his lips. He came behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, his head resting on my shoulder.
“Good,” he said, his voice low and firm. He moved my ponytailed hair from my shoulder and tilted my head as he kissed my neck. I took a deep, cleansing breath as I leaned my head back against him.
“Now say, ‘E, you were right about everything, always, all the time. And now I’m gonna be your wife and have your babies and become a famous chocolate-named person just like you. And bake lots of peach cobbler-pies on Sundays, forever.’”
I laughed. “I am not saying all that. And your name is not a chocolate! And okay to the pies, but I am not having babies at twenty-three.”
He grinned into my ear and sucked on my neck, his teeth grazing the surface just enough. “Twenty-five?”
“Twenty-nine,” I said with emphasis.
“Nope.” He snapped his head up with a shake. “Too long. Gonna need to see little Syd n’ E’s running around here much sooner than that.”
I laughed as I turned to face him, wrapping my hands at the base of his neck.
“Push your luck, and I won’t be having any babies at all, boy.”
He dipped his head down to mine and said against my lips, low, sure, and sexy as hell, “Oh yes, you will, girl.”
And he was right.
He’d been right all along.