12. Give Up
GIVE UP
Abead of sweat trickled down Fisher’s neck as he walked along the sidewalk, and he sighed, shrugging out of the jacket he’d just put on. October weather was so unpredictable. It would be forty degrees in the morning, and then an easy seventy-five by the time lunch rolled around.
Typically, the sun would have been much lower when he left the shop, but they had all been sent home early due to a plumbing issue, so it blazed high in the sky as he reached Drie’s apartment.
Every weekend, Fisher walked by twice on the way to and from the shop.
The distance was far enough to justify driving, but he liked the exercise.
And deeper down, in that lizard brain, he knew it was the idea of accidentally crossing paths with her that had him climbing out of bed half an hour earlier than necessary.
He’d not seen her in person in over a month. Every morning, he would text her as soon as he woke, inviting her to have breakfast with him at the diner. And every morning, she would decline the offer.
As the days progressed, he tried to keep the correspondence to a minimum, so as not to overwhelm her. Her declines were the only messages Fisher got from her, but he was grateful for them, because they meant she was actually receiving the messages.
But whenever he had a thought, like how he missed her laugh…Whenever he stumbled across something that he knew she’d love, he would shoot her a message, just hoping it would make her smile. Just letting her know that he was thinking of her.
Drie held all the cards in the situation, but Fisher didn’t mind. As long as she continued to respond, he’d keep trying.
But just as he rounded the corner to bring the front of her building into view, he was brought to a hard stop at the sight that greeted him. Maverick was standing at the front door of the building, holding it open for Drie as she stepped out into the sun.
She was wearing dark jeans and a light, casual sweater, but even from a distance, he could tell she’d put thought into it. Her hair was curled, her makeup artfully subtle. She looked the same as when he used to pick her up for date night. The same as the night he’d broken her heart.
His jaw tensed as Maverick extended a hand, and he swallowed hard when her grip slipped around the other man’s elbow instead. Her eyes fell to the steps as they moved down the sidewalk, but then returned to Maverick with a laugh at whatever he’d said to her.
Fisher’s hands fisted at his side as he watched, longing to be in Maverick’s place as she continued to stare up at him.
She’d used to look at him that way, her eyes full of warmth and laughter.
It was a far stretch from the guarded, wary manner in which she’d watched him in the alley behind the diner.
The entire scene was over just about as quickly as it began when Maverick held the door for Drie to climb into the car waiting at the curb. And he was helpless to do little more than watch as they drove right past where he stood, staring after them.
Fisher started to walk again, one foot in front of the other, not paying attention to his surroundings until he’d reached their spot by the river.
He dropped into his designated swing, his breathing fast and hard, deep inhales through his nose that sawed their way through his chest, unable to fill his lungs.
She had told him it would happen. She’d made him promise not to react. But how? How am I supposed to live with this? How am I supposed to act like things are okay when it feels like she’s taken a hacksaw to my torso, flaying me open for the world to see?
The realization struck him. This is what she was referring to.
What he’d been too blinded by his delusions to see.
This was the feeling Drie had said she couldn’t bear when she asked him for space.
He understood then, if she felt even a fraction of how he felt in that moment, why she was so hesitant.
Why she wasn’t responding, and why she was so scared to move forward.
A drop splashed on the back of the hands he held interlocked between his splayed legs, and he tilted his head back, looking for clouds. He found nothing but blue skies as far as his eyes could see, and the next drop trekked a path alongside his nose as a result.
Fisher’s hand reached up, hesitant, swiping at the wetness that lingered on his cheek, before staring down at it in surprise. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried.
His breath caught on an exhale as he wiped the tear on his pants, blinking hard as he turned his eyes to the river before him and the trees lining either side.
The leaves were just beginning to lose the richness of their color around the edges, fading into shades of deep browns and warm reds.
It hallmarked the end of the year, encroaching swiftly, and Fisher could do nothing against the way his throat tightened, his breathing growing more shallow, wondering if that was truly meant to be the end of their relationship as well.
Am I hanging on to something that’s over? Is she just humoring me? His heart told him no, but he’d witnessed it for himself. The proof of Drie giving up. Moving on. What am I meant to do to stop it? He’d caused it. He had no one to blame but himself.
The regret swelled within until it felt like there was no more space for it.
Nowhere else for it to go as it consumed him entirely, pressing against his skin as the tears continued to flow, spilling over as he contemplated the sick irony of his situation.
How he’d walked away from the love of his life because he wanted her to have somebody who felt as strongly as he did in that very moment.
And it was too fucking late.
If Maverick ends up being that man for her…Fisher sucked down a shaky breath at the thought, swallowing the sob that rose in his throat. He gritted his teeth, telling himself that he would be happy for her, no matter what.
But for as long as there is still a chance…Fisher clenched his jaw, nodding to himself. He refused to give up.