Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
OAKLEIGH
To me, there’s nothing scarier than admitting to yourself that you’re in love with someone.
The fear that grips you is something that I’m ashamed to say I let overtake me.
I let it consume me until I’m shaking and useless.
And even though I have worked my ass off to make sure that the walls I kept up for so many years crumble around me, they have come right back up; and instead of being walls of stone, this time they’re fortified steel.
I sit on my couch and allow the fear and the anxiety to fester. I let it marinate until it’s a sharpened ball of defense against the one person who I know still has a chance of tearing it down.
The very person who causes my doorbell to ring throughout my house.
With a steeled heart and heavy steps, I make my way to the door and open it to find a smiling Finn on the threshold.
It’s been a week since that night. A week of mind-blowing sex and care-filled treatment.
A week since he told me he wants this to be real.
So, naturally, it’s been a week of me going back and forth between reasons why it can and can’t happen, and in the end my head has won out over my heart.
“Hey, you,” he says, unknowing that I’m about to break his happiness.
He moves in to kiss me, but I dodge it at the last minute.
He frowns down at me. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing.”
I move further into the house, but only just enough that he can step in through the doorway. He steps slowly, cautiously.
“Cherry, what’s wrong?”
“Please don’t call me that.”
He flinches at my tone—sharp and emotionless.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on. You said you needed me to be your girlfriend for a month. That month is up.”
He watches me like I’ve told him his head is on backward. I don’t blame him, this has come out of nowhere, but I need to protect my heart from the possibility of breakage.
He holds his hand out in an attempt to calm the wildness in me. “If I’ve done something wrong, Oakleigh, then I apologize, but I’d rather we talk it about it before rushing to such extreme measu—”
“I never agreed to go longer than the month.”
“But I thought you were…”
I cross my arms over my chest. “You thought what, exactly?”
He pauses, refusing to take his eyes off of me. His eyes that are swimming in confusion. “I … thought you might want more than what this started as.”
My heart thumps in my chest, but I refuse to listen to it. I steel my spine and keep my eyes trained straight ahead as I deliver the final blow. “No,” I say. “I never wanted more.”
I can see the light leave his eyes, any hope and happiness caused by me dissipating and fracturing into tiny pieces that I’m about to leave for him to pick up.
“I—” He clears his throat and adjusts his stance. His hands find his pockets and I know now that I’ve lost him. He’s shut down on me, cut himself off until only the hurt I’ve planted is left. “Okay. I’m sorry I made such an oversight.”
I nod, but I can’t find the words; not when part of me wants nothing more than to spend this day cuddled up with Finn, Ollie, and a bunch of trashy TV, and the other part wants me to tell him to fuck off and leave my heart alone.
He starts to turn toward the door, but halts halfway and I chastise myself for allowing my shoulders to sag in relief. He reaches for the door but hesitates.
“What?” I ask, both from genuine curiosity and a desperate attempt to speed up his departure.
“I just don’t get it,” he says, his voice so broken. “I really don’t get it.”
He spins back around and steps toward me and I immediately step back, craving both the distance and his closeness.
My body is fighting itself, unsure of what to do, but so sure at the same time.
I hate the feeling it causes in the pit of my stomach.
He steps forward one more time, but this time my feet betray me.
They stay perfectly still. Finn’s hand reaches out for me, cradling my face with such tenderness that my eyes can’t help but close.
“Why are you really doing this, Oakleigh?”
“I just told you.”
His laugh holds anything but humor. “You seem to be forgetting something.”
“What?” I ask.
He gives my hair a tug. “I’ve known you for fifteen years, Oakleigh Frances Michaels. I know when you’re lying. And I’ll wait as long as it takes, Cherry. I’ve been waiting fifteen years, I can wait a little longer. So, when you figure out why you’re really doing this, you know where to find me.”
My face loses all heat as he pulls away and I long for his touch once more. How can I be so desperate to see him go, but also crave his touch like this?
“I don’t want you to wait,” I tell him, hoping it’ll drive the knife in for the killing blow, but all it does is make his smile widen, even if it does become sadder.
“That’s exactly why I’ll do it.”
When he closes the door behind him, I break.
The tears flow, the legs give out, and the silence is the only thing around to comfort me.
I try and tell myself that the pain is temporary, that it’ll pass before I know it and I’ll be able to carry on in this world alone and free from pain.
It’s a pathetic attempt, but I do it anyway, if not for the sake of my tears, then for the sake of my heart; my cracked and lonely heart.
* * *
The next day, I do what’s expected of me—I get up, I go to work, and I save lives. The day after that, I do the same. Both of those days, when my shift is over, Bash is there waiting for me with an awkward silence and a pity-filled smile. Finn must have told him.
The day after that, I refused to leave my bed.
I allowed myself to sit in my self-pity and wish for a life that is filled with brown eyes, curly hair, and a fifteen-year-long story about how we became enemies to lovers.
If my creativity were flowing, I would write about us, fueled by the knowledge that love can win, and pride knowing that it picked me.
But creativity seems to be evading me every chance it gets, and I didn’t pick it…
I threw it in the trash and showed just how ungrateful I am.
Which brings me to today. Today I am … lost. I feel as if I’m in some kind of trance; not quite here, but not quite anywhere else, either. Ollie tries his best to comfort me, sticking by my side whenever I’m home like my own personal bodyguard. If only he’d protected me sooner than this.
My doorbell ringing throughout my little bungalow is the absolute last thing I need today.
I drag my feet as I walk to the door, reluctance acting as a fabulous counterweight. When I open the door, Wren stands in front of me, looking whatever surpasses furious. Her brown skin is flushed, her curly dark hair wild. Her arms are crossed in front of her, her lips pursed.
Fuck.
Finn must have told her the truth.
“Okay, before you say anything—”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she cuts me off.
I scramble for an answer. “I don’t know, I don’t know! I should have told you as soon as he asked me, I just didn’t know how to bring it up and—”
“He asked you?” Wren’s head tilts. “Asked you what?”
Wait, what?
“I’m sorry, what are you talking about?”
“The fact that it’s been three days and the two of you didn’t once mention that you broke up?”
Oh.
“I had to hear it from my dad, of all people.”
She watches me carefully. “What did you think I was talking about?”
“What’s that now?” I try my best to play dumb, but unfortunately for me, I’ve been friends with Wren for longer than I haven’t been.
I let out a deep, resigned breath and move to the side. “Perhaps you should come in and sit down.”
Rightfully so, Wren looks extremely cautious as she steps inside and makes her way to the couch. I sit beside her, but immediately stand back up again.
“You know what, this needs wine. A lot of wine.”
I grab a bottle from the fridge along with two glasses, pouring two mammoth amounts in each. I hand one to Wren and chug half of mine in one go.
“Jesus, Lee, what the hell is going on?” she asks, wide-eyed as she watches me down my wine.
Maybe the alcohol hits me right away, or maybe I’m just so fueled by anxiety, but either way, it all just comes out.
“Finn and I have been pretending to date for a month because he was scared that he was causing Wanda stress because he wasn’t dating.
I wanted to tell you that it was fake, but I think in my head I just wasn’t sure if it was or not.
Then things got a little too real and we slept together, which made me realize that I think I get off on pain—who would have thought?
Anyway, we spent about three days just in bed together and then he left to go to work, and then I started freaking out because I realized that I was missing him and was genuinely in love with him and it scared the shit out of me, so I decided to save myself the pain and end things before we had a chance to make them real.
And instead of being hurt, he kind of started laughing?
Haven’t quite deciphered that one, but now I’m just sad all the time and I want to talk to him but I’m not sure how and I know I shouldn’t because all I’ll want to do is get back together and I can’t because otherwise I’ll hurt myself. ”
Her frown has been deepening more, the more I speak, and by the time I’m finished, we’re both breathless—me, from talking fast and from anxiety, her, from fury.
Beneath all of her, I can see the anger clear as day. It flashes across her brown eyes in intervals, as if she’s replaying the same part of the story in her mind.
“You lied to me?” she asks quietly.
I hang my head in shame.
“You both lied to me?” She spits out the word “both” as if it’s poison.
“Wren, I—I don’t know what to say.”
“Oh, you’ve said plenty.”
“If I could go back and change it, I would. I—” I reach out for her, but she stands up and takes a step away from me.
“Stop it!” She paces the space between my living room and kitchen.
“The point is, you lied, Oakleigh. That’s what you chose to do: lie.
To me. Doesn’t matter what you wanted to do, only what you ended up doing.
” She stops pacing and runs a hand through her curls.
“The worst part is that I gave you a chance, I asked both of you if this was real and you promised me it was! And I, like a fucking idiot, believed you!”
I remain silent, the fear of saying the wrong words keeping my lips shut.
I can’t think of anything worse than this.
Not even my last conversation with Finn created this much pain in my chest, and that talk almost killed me.
But this right here? I never want to relive this.
My best friend is looking at me as if she doesn’t even recognize me, and I don’t blame her, because this entire thing makes me barely recognize myself.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No! No! Not at all.”
“But you ended it?”
I breathe out slowly. “Yes.”
She scoffs and turns away from me. “So, the only way to save yourself from getting hurt, was to hurt everyone else.”
My eyes close as if the action can somehow shield me from the pain in her voice.
It’s not a question. Wren isn’t asking me, because we both know that’s exactly what I’ve done.
We’re both aware that this entire situation is wrapped in selfishness and, somehow, it’s not even Finn that ended up being the selfish one.
In an effort to protect myself, I’ve harmed my best friend, the man I love, their parents who are like my own, and all my other friends.
“I’m so, so sorry, Wren.”
She chuckles humorlessly. This is a side to Wren I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.
She doesn’t raise her voice, not to anyone except Gus anyway, and she’s never ever raised it at me.
We’ve been mad at one another before, but they’ve always been small spats that end in a matter of hours.
But this? This feels damaging, broken, possibly permanent.
It would help if I said something, explain in some way, apologize profusely, but there are no words left anywhere. Not in my mind, my mouth, not even my heart. I’m begging and pleading with myself to say something that can make her feel better. Make them both feel better.
When she sees that I’m not going to offer any defense, she scoffs and grabs her phone off of the couch.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Wren!”
It doesn’t matter, though. She’s gone. Wren is gone. Finn is gone. I’m alone, and it’s exactly what I deserve.