Chapter 24
SAGE
Sage wiped a stray tear from her eye before it dampened her pillow, thankful Flynn couldn’t see her cry in the dark.
She’d imagined what it would be like to have this conversation with Flynn countless times, to finally confront him for leaving her without warning or explanation. But now that she stood on the precipice, with an open invitation to speak her mind, she couldn’t find the words.
As she lay cloaked in the protective shadows of night, the tap, tap, tap of soothing raindrops lured her into the quiet corners of her subconscious, where she had no choice but to be self-aware.
A long-suppressed truth slipped into her thoughts. A truth her heart had always known.
She still loved Flynn Cahill.
Despite a decade of practiced denial, she couldn’t lie to herself anymore.
Tonight—as they shared pieces of their lives with each other—a floodgate opened, unleashing a deluge of emotions.
But it was more than old feelings flooding to the surface. So much more.
She didn’t merely love the Flynn from her past. The new Flynn, despite his misguided life choices, had captured her heart, too. With his kindness, humor, and loyalty. Loyalty that extended to his brother and Cap, but painfully, not to her.
If only she’d been good enough.
“Sage?” His hesitant voice broke through the agony of her thoughts.
“Yeah?” she whispered, not trusting herself to speak more than a syllable.
A long pause hung over them, heavy and stifling. What did he want to say?
She kneaded her bottom lip, counting each erratic heartbeat as they quickened in the expanding silence.
When Flynn finally spoke again, his words punctuated the stillness, clear and unmistakable, resonating all the way to her core. “I’m sorry.”
She held her breath, as if not breathing could somehow stop time and preserve the moment. Preserve the words she’d waited ten years to hear.
“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, his husky tone thick with pain. “I never should’ve left the way I did. I was a coward. And unforgivably selfish. I knew if I saw you and tried to explain, I wouldn’t go through with it. I wouldn’t be able to see you and still walk away.” His voice shook as if it took considerable effort to keep his emotions at bay, and with each word he uttered, her heart broke anew.
“I never wanted to leave, but I thought I had no choice. I thought it was the right thing to do. For my parents. For Kev. Even for you. Although, I know that doesn’t make sense right now.”
Tears tumbled down her cheeks, soaking her skin and the satin pillowcase. How could he possibly think he’d done her a favor by leaving her behind? It had taken her ten years to envision a future without him. And even now, with an inkling of hope for her bookstore, a future without Flynn paled in comparison to one with him.
“Whatever my reasons, they’re not an excuse. I may have lost my brother, but you lost one of your best friends. You were hurting, too. And I left when you needed me most.” His voice cracked, and so did the barricade around her heart.
All the bitterness she’d collected to coddle her tender wound slipped away, providing space to breathe—to finally heal.
“I failed you, Sage. I failed us. And that’s a regret I’ll carry for the rest of my life.” His voice sounded closer now, as if he’d turned his head toward hers. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But you deserve a thousand apologies. And they’re all ten years overdue. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
In the wake of his confession, impulse superseded thought or deliberation.
Compelled by an all-consuming need to be near him—to feel his touch—she found his hand in the darkness.
Her pulse fluttering wildly, she grazed his pinky finger with her own.
His breath hitched, and his hand wrapped around hers, tight and intense, as if he’d never let go.
They lay perfectly still, fingers entwined, cocooned by the cathartic rumble of waves and rain.
Without a word, they let their tears fall in tandem.
Tears for all they’d lost.
For all the time they’d wasted.
For everything they couldn’t get back.
Each tear that fell cleared a path, making way for maybes .
Maybe this wasn’t the end.
Maybe it was a new beginning.