Chapter 9 #2
Shutting his eyes yet again, he attempted to doze. But after a few minutes of listening to her inhale and exhale, he grew restless and disgusted with himself.
He was not only a coward, but a ridiculous one. A grown man who’d feign sleep in his own bed, rather than face his best friend the morning after she became his lover.
Unless he pretended to nap until she left Marysburg, which she’d probably find somewhat alarming, he had to have a conversation with her sooner or later.
Better for it to be on his terms, on a subject of his choosing.
Something that would distract her from the fact that they’d woken in the same bed together for the first time in their long relationship.
Okay. He could do this.
He sat up and looped his arms over his knees. “Do you really think that stone helps ease your worries?”
Despite his interruption of her quiet meditation time, she looked at him and smiled. Then she opened her fingers, revealing the amethyst on her palm. “It’s not a matter of what I think or don’t think. It does ease my worries. I know, because I’ve experienced the relief.”
“But your degree is in kinesiology and health sciences. Data-driven fields. How can you reconcile that with the idea that a stone has special mind-clearing powers?”
He’d kept his tone gentle but interested. An invitation, rather than a challenge, because he didn’t want her to interpret his curiosity as disdain.
She didn’t bristle at the line of inquiry in any visible way. Instead, she tilted her head, looking pleased and surprised that he’d broached the topic. That he was interested in her thoughts.
He never asked her personal questions. Another way of deflecting any suspicion that he cared too much, hung on her every word, or hungered to know her inside and out.
How had she even tolerated him for so many years?
“I could answer your question a few ways, depending on whether you want the science or my own experiences, or a mixture of both.” She thought for a moment.
“I could cite studies that show the efficacy of meditation when it comes to various health concerns. I could describe how handling my stone helps me reach a meditative state. I could tell you the stone serves as a reminder, not an active force whisking away my worries. A tool, rather than something powerful in itself. I could argue that we don’t have a full understanding of many matters related to physical and emotional health, so rejecting a possible avenue toward wellness would be shortsighted.
Or I could discuss the power and ramifications of the placebo effect, and how it can be harnessed to ease pain and improve lives. ”
Sebastián considered her arguments. “In other words, if you believe it can help, it will help.”
“Sometimes. Not always.” Her intent gaze pinned him to the bed. “But believing matters more than people think. What you believe influences how you think and how you act, and that can change your reality.”
When he started to say something, she held up a hand.
“To be clear: I’m not rejecting science.
I’d certainly never debate evolution or the efficacy of vaccines or the reality of human-made climate change.
But I’m also not going to dismiss things like worry stones as unrealistic and unsupported by scientific data when they’re harmless and may actually help people. ”
“Believing matters,” he repeated.
She nodded, rubbing her thumb over the slick surface of the stone. “It does.”
A silent minute passed, and he had no idea what to say. The two of them might as well exist on separate planets. In separate galaxies.
Belief had no place in his cosmos. No value. But for her, it was obviously crucial.
She gave a little nod, seemingly to herself.
And when she spoke again, her voice was steady.
Confident. “For instance, I believe we were always meant to be more than friends.” She smiled at him again and scooted closer.
“I believe I made a mistake when I accepted that job so quickly after my breakup with Jarrod.”
He stopped breathing.
She maintained eye contact, clearly unwilling to flinch from the import of what she was saying. “I believe I should talk to management and see if there’s some way I can stay here in Marysburg, close to you.”
With those words, Sebastián’s brain exploded into chaos, joy and terror detonating within every cell. He sat frozen in bed beside Lucy, completely dumbstruck.
Last night, she’d given more of herself than he’d ever dared to request, and now she was offering him…everything. Absolutely everything.
The woman he loved was telling him she wanted to stay in Marysburg. Wanted a future together. Wanted him.
And she was waiting for his response, her eyes bright with hope.
He couldn’t utter a word.
She laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Seb?”
Still, no words came. Because he understood both of them too well.
Of course. Of course a woman as brave as Lucy would bare her emotions, her desires, without equivocation or any attempt to shield herself. Of course she wouldn’t let the two of them drift into whatever future awaited them, either together or apart, without an honest conversation.
As he’d feared, though, she was guiding this discussion out onto a limb too slender and shaky for his feeble courage. She’d expect him to follow her there. And this time, if he clung to the trunk and let her sway in the wind alone, she’d never beckon to him again.
His mouth felt gritty and dry, as if someone had poured sand down his throat.
He was growing dizzy from lack of oxygen.
And she was looking at him with such faith and affection, he couldn’t seem to think.
Couldn’t figure out how to handle this situation without risking either himself or the ties that bound them.
He’d need to rely on the instincts honed over years of hiding, then.
Deflect. Avoid direct questions. Shield his vulnerabilities at all costs.
Of those many vulnerabilities, his love for her was the biggest and most terrifying. Always had been. Always would be.
“Staying in Marysburg…” He tried to swallow. “Is that what you want to do?”
“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. “But before I make that call, I need to know what you want.”
There it was. The invitation onto the limb where she waited with such patience, even as it threatened to crack beneath her.
He could join her. He wanted to, with all the love and hope a foolish boy’s heart could hold.
But years of torture at school had made him an adult, with an adult understanding of the world and its cruelties.
She might not mean to damage him, but she would.
The branch beneath them would crack, and they’d both tumble into darkness.
He’d learned his lesson long ago. Reveal vulnerability, reveal emotion, and someone else would exploit it.
Would mock and hurt and target the most fragile, hidden parts of him.
And if that didn’t sound like the friend he’d known for a decade and a half, so be it.
He still wasn’t exposing his heart to anyone, not even Lucy.
What if she changed her mind? Or laughed and said she was only joking? Or fell in love with another man? Or grew tired of his baggage and his cowardice and left him naked and alone and heartbroken?
A smart man protected himself, even from the woman who owned his soul.
He was clenching the sheet so hard he heard stitches pop.
His voice emerged rough and hoarse. “You should make major work decisions without worrying what other people think or want.”
She flinched. But within a moment, her lips had firmed in determination. She wasn’t letting the subject go. Wasn’t letting him redirect her toward safer ground.
“Usually, yes. But not in this case.” She tugged the sheet out of his grip and took his hand. “Before I upend my life to be with you, I need to know how you feel about me.”
What could he say? How could he assuage the dawning hurt in her eyes without revealing too much of himself in the process?
His fingers spasmed against hers. “I…I care about you.”
“I know th-that.” Her voice cracked on the words, and he wanted to die with the shame of it. “But that was true when we were fifteen too. I need to know how you feel now. Whether your emotions have changed over time. Whether they’re powerful enough to alter the course of my life.”
He sat beside her, still and silent, for a long, long time.
“I don’t know what else to tell you,” he finally said.
At that, her breath hitched. Hard.
Her gaze dropped to her lap, and he could see her blinking rapidly. Tears. He’d driven her to tears, the woman he’d never, ever wanted to see in pain. His arms were trembling with the need to surround her, to comfort her, to enfold her and keep her close forever.
He wouldn’t—couldn’t—let himself move an inch. So she fought her tears alone.
She should hate him for that. Knowing her, she probably didn’t.
Luckily, he hated himself enough for both of them.
For some reason, she was still holding his hand. In her other palm rested the worry stone, as always. Her thumb circled the smooth surface of the amethyst, around and around, until her breathing evened and the too-bright sheen of her eyes faded.
Then, after one last circle, her fingers turned lax against his, and he knew. It was done.
“Okay.” She let go of his hand and patted his knee. “Okay. Don’t worry. What happened last night doesn’t have to change anything. Let’s just consider it a one-time fling between friends.”
He didn’t protest. Didn’t let the anguished howl in his head emerge from his mouth. Didn’t reclaim her hand and refuse to relinquish it.
She eased herself from the bed. “I’ll be heading out now. I don’t think you’re needed for filming today, so try to get more sleep if you can.”
He’d been looking down at the sheets, self-loathing sour in his stomach. When she grabbed fresh clothing and began to get dressed, though, he raised his head.
How could he let her leave like this?
“Lucy,” he said, “I don’t—”
But he didn’t know how to fix the problem, not at a price he was able to pay. So he shut his mouth again.
She didn’t urge him to finish his thought. Instead, she smoothed a fresh tunic and skirt into place and dropped the worry stone into her pocket. Then she hefted her backpack and caught his eye.
“You’ve been so generous to let us stay in your house. But I think Hairy and I would do fine in a hotel. I’ll pack my things and get him this afternoon, after filming is done.” She mustered a weak smile. “Kitty will be vastly relieved.”
If she left, she wasn’t coming back. Not before the move, not after.
“Lucy…” He licked his lips. “I…”
No. There was nothing to say. Nothing left but logistics and darkness and heartbreak. And maybe a final gesture to show he cared, although not how much.
“I’ll feed and walk Hairy this morning. Don’t forget your glasses.” His voice remained steady, exactly as he’d trained it to do. “They’re on the table in the corner.”
“Thank you, Seb.” She donned her glasses and blew him a final kiss. “Take care.”
“Take care,” he echoed.
Then she was gone from his bedroom. Gone from his house.
Gone from his future.