The Right Side of Forever (The Perfect Duet Book 2)

by Meghan Quinn

  “You’re not the yin to his yang.”

  “Yes, exactly.” I let out a long sigh, relieved that Rowdy gets it. “Do you think that’s a problem? Do you think that’s something that will hurt us later on in life? Like we’re going to fall down a path that leads us to not being happy anymore because we’re not being challenged?” Please be honest with me, Rowdy. I need to know the truth.

  “I don’t know, Sage. I wish I had an answer for you, but I really think you have to think about what you want in life first. Are you okay with being content with what you have? Or do you think you’re going to want more? Colby is my boy, you know that, and he’s one of the best guys I know. He’s been through hell and back—”

  “And that’s another thing. He won’t tell me about his past. When I ask, he either gets mad or blows me off completely.”

  That stuns Rowdy, his expression one of concern and surprise. “Really?”

  “Yes. I feel like everyone knows but me. Does he not trust me?”

  “I don’t know.” Rowdy scratches the side of his jaw, looking at his lap.

  “It’s concerning, isn’t it?” I bite the side of my cheek, hating that I think I know the answer already. “Do you know what I think about from time to time?”

  “What’s that?”

  I rest my head against the back of the couch cushion and stare at the ceiling, not able to look Rowdy in the eyes. “I think that Colby isn’t supposed to be mine, but Ryan’s instead.”

  “What?”

  “Have you seen them together? They’re . . . ugh, they’re perfect. She pushes him to do different things. He jokes and teases her. When I said I felt like I was sitting in someone else’s spot, I meant it. I think Ryan is supposed to be in my position, the one engaged to Colby.” And it hurts to say that. It’s taken me a bit to actually accept this realization. Many late nights, staying up, contemplating my situation. And even though Colby is the perfect man, the type of man I would love to keep, I know deep down, I’m not the woman he’s supposed to be with.

  Rowdy grabs my hand and tugs on it until I shift my head to the side, looking at him. I’ve never seen him look so serious. Almost as if he hates what he’s about to say. “If he wanted Ryan, he would have chosen her. But he chose you, Sage.”

  Tears well in my eyes and I nervously roll my teeth over my bottom lip. “What if I want him to choose someone else?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  COLBY

  “Ryan, can you please answer the goddamn phone?” I drag my hand through my hair, my nerves getting the best of me. “I’m sorry about last weekend. I want to talk about it. Please, don’t keep running from me. I need to know you’re okay. Please call me back.”

  I hang up the phone and chuck it at the cluster of pillows on my bed. “Fuck!” I shout, pulling on the back of my neck, frustration vibrating off me.

  There has never been a point in my career where I’ve wanted to be anything other than a fighter pilot. I’ve never regretted my decision to enter the military lifestyle . . . until now.

  She’s gone—again—and there’s nothing I can do about it.

  I can’t go after her. I can’t take time off to solve this. I can’t for one second take a deep breath and try to work out the confusing emotions rolling through me.

  I have to stay focused. I have to remain focused on the mission. I have to go to work in an hour and fly a fucking machine that costs over $150 million, and the last thing I want to do—last thing I should do—is jump into the cockpit. Not when my mind is shit. Not when all I can think about is the look in Ryan’s eyes when I was carefully holding her cheek in my hand, my grip on her waist, so close.

  So fucking close.

  Fuck.

  I hop in the shower and quickly rinse off from the four-mile run I ran this morning, trying to clear my mind. It did shit for me. All it did was make me think even more. I don’t want to think. I want to forget, I want to go back in time when things were easier, when I didn’t feel this weight of pressure on my chest, when I didn’t have this foreboding feeling that I’m not with the right goddamn person.

  I spend the next few minutes drying off and getting dressed for work, the TV playing in the background, filling the empty silence. It isn’t until I pick up my phone to go to work that I realized I got a text.

  From Sage.

  Sage: Just making sure you’re still picking me up tonight. I can get an Uber if need be.

  Holy.

  Fuck.

  I completely forgot Sage was coming into town tonight. I sink onto my bed, my head in my hand, guilt swarming me, coating me in a sheen of sweat and resentment.

  How could I possibly forget that she was coming to visit tonight? She’s the girl I decided to spend the rest of my life with, and I fucking forgot she was coming to visit me, to visit our wedding venue, to spend much-needed time with me. And here I am, trying desperately to get in touch with someone else . . . the one person I truly don’t think I can live without in my life.

  And what does that fucking say about me?

  I press my palms into my eyes, trying to rub out the pain and the disdain. I need to get my shit together. Sage is coming tonight. I can’t be a fucking mess around her, not again. I need to focus on us even if my mind, my heart, is focused on making sure someone else is okay.

  Taking a deep breath, I blink a few times and stare at my phone where I begin typing.

  Colby: I’ll be there to pick you up. Send me your flight info. If anything changes and our debrief goes long, I’ll let you know.

  I press send and stand from my bed, grabbing my duffle-bag and heading out the door. This is going to be one fucking long flight today.

  I stretch out, the sheets on my bed riding across my bare torso, the sun barely peeking through the cracks of my curtains. My neck is sore, my shoulders tense, and my knees are fucking aching today. It happens every once in a while. Being one of the taller pilots, I occasionally cramp from being stuffed in the cockpit for long hours. And then having to drive to Denver and back yesterday in my small-ass rental car, my body is beat. Thank God, I have the day off today.

  We didn’t get back to my room until really late last night, so once our heads hit the bed, we were both out in minutes. We didn’t talk much on the drive. Sage was actually more silent than usual and what we did talk about wasn’t anything life-changing. She told me about a new cookie recipe she’s been trying to perfect. Cherry white-chocolate cookies. She brought me some, which I dove into on the way to the Springs. They were fucking good.

  I told her about Stryder and Rory and their new house, going into detail about things I normally don’t talk about like fucking curtains and shit like that.

  I think it threw her off, because she gave me an odd look at one point. I don’t blame her, describing a houndstooth pattern doesn’t scream something I’d normally talk about. But fuck I was nervous, and scared I would talk about something else like my visit with Ryan.

  And I wanted to avoid that at all costs.

  Reaching across the mattress I feel for Sage but come up empty-handed. I peek an eye open and notice she’s not in bed. Turning toward the window, the sun temporarily blinding me, I catch a figure in the corner, sitting in a chair, knees pulled into her chest. I scrub the sleep out of my eye and sit up, the blanket and sheets sliding down, pooling at my waist.

  I catch Sage give me a quick once-over before returning her eyes back to mine.

  “Good morning,” I say in a gravelly voice. “How long have you been up?”

  “An hour.”

  I blink a few more times. “An hour? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

  “You looked really tired. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “I was tired.” I stand from the bed my knees feeling sore as fuck as I make my way to the coffee maker and make a pot. “Coffee?” I ask. She nods so I grab another mug.

  Silence fills the room as the coffee brews, the air around us feeling awkward and uncomfortable, the feeling of a conversation
on the horizon. We have today and tomorrow to figure things out, to clear things up. But I want this, don’t I? For us to work?

  I pour us both a cup, I put a splash of milk in hers—at least I know how she takes her coffee—and walk it to her, taking a seat in the chair opposite hers.

  She blows on the hot liquid and then takes a sip, a droop in her shoulders, a sorrowful look on her face.

  “Colby?” I look up from my mug, tears in her eyes. Fuck. “I think we need to talk.”

  Trying not to freak the fuck out, as if she heard something, I nod.

  “What’s up, Sage. Is everything okay?”

  She shakes her head, the first tear rolling down her cheek, so I set my coffee on the table between us and scoot my chair closer so I’m holding her hand, rubbing the back of her knuckles. More tears stream down her face.

  Fuck, this isn’t good. No good conversation starts with we need to talk, followed by tears.

  “What’s going on?”

  She takes a few deep breaths and weakly says, “Do you love me?”

  “What? Of course I love you.”

  “Do you see a future with me?”

  “Yes,” I drag out. “Why?” Is she having second thoughts?

  She doesn’t answer me. Instead she looks away, her lip trembling, her hand shaking.

  “Sage, what’s going on?”

  She wipes away the tears and sets her coffee mug down as well. After catching her breath, she turns back toward me and says, “Do you think you’re the yin to my yang?”

  Okay, now I’m really confused. What the hell is she talking about?

  “Uh . . . sure?” Not the best response, but I really don’t know what else to say. I feel like the conversation is being pieced and sewn together by another one she might have had.

  “Do you know what I’m talking about?”

  Answering honestly, I say, “I really don’t. But I want to understand, so lay it out for me.”

  “I think we’re both introverts. We like things a certain way and we stay within ourselves, never really jumping out of our comfort zone.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “It is when you need your person to challenge you. And I’m not only talking about me. You’re the same way. You need someone in your life who’s going to bring you to the next level, someone who will tug you out of the mud when you’re stuck in your routine, someone who is going to make you uncomfortable but in the best way possible.”

  I search between her eyes, my throat growing tighter with each passing breath. “Do you not want to be that person?”

  She takes my hands in hers, gripping tightly. “It’s not that I don’t want to be that person, Colby, it’s that I can’t be that person. I don’t have it in me. I don’t have that personality.” She scoots closer, eyes set on mine, watery and full of sorrow. “I love you so much, Colby, and I couldn’t imagine my life without ever meeting you, but if I look toward the future, I don’t think I can give you what you need so you can be the best version of yourself.”

  I want to deny it, and I want to tell her she’s wrong, but deep down, I know she’s right. I think it’s one of the reasons why we’ve been struggling recently.

  Bowing my head, I let out a deep sigh. “Fuck.”

  “I’m sorry, Colby.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I know you’re right.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.” I peer up at her. “It’s been weird between us lately.”

  “Really weird, and I think it’s because we both knew we weren’t meant to be with each other.”

  God, this conversation is all too familiar. It reminds me of the conversation I had with Rory in the bowling alley, when I was trying to understand her relationship with Stryder. Back then, I thought I knew what love was, the connection of two hearts, but I was wrong. Rory taught me it’s so much more than that. It’s about the hard times, the ugly times, the raw times.

  When I look at Sage, I don’t see anything like that. There’s no hard or ugly or raw between us. Our love for each other never ran deep enough. It only scratched the surface, neither one of us trying to move into a deeper understanding of each other, neither one of us giving it up either.

  And then it hits me. Our entire relationship has been about comfort. For me, it was to have someone to come home to—someone to support me through the unpredictability of my job—and Sage was the perfect person for that. She understood, she never complained, and she was there for me with open arms.

  For Sage, I’m assuming I was the comfort of someone familiar, someone to help her through her transition to a new place, to a new chapter in her life.

  Understanding washes over me, the realization that our relationship is coming to an end.

  “We were each other’s safety blankets,” I say, speaking what’s on my mind.

  She glances at me, her eyes widening as if a light bulb just went off in her head. “We were. The safe option.”

  “The comfortable.”

  She squeezes my hand. “The protective.”

  I tug on her hand and pull her onto my lap, wrapping my arms around her and holding on to her tightly, knowing that this is the end. “I love you, Sage.”

  “I love you, Colby . . . but . . .”

  “We’re not in love.”

  She shakes her head and pulls away a few inches. “We’re not.”

  “Do you ever think we were in love, or was our relationship mutual companionship?”

  “I don’t know. I would like to think I was in love, but I’m not sure I really know what that feeling is like.”

  I have an inkling what the feeling is like, and even though Sage is sitting on my lap, I know she’s not the one tugging on my heart, making me feel nauseas and excited all at the same time.

  Tipping her chin up, I say, “You know, someone once told me sometimes love can be a steppingstone, a path to the person you’re truly supposed to be with.”

  “Were we steppingstones?”

  Fuck if I want to admit to it, but . . .

  “Yeah.” I nod. “I think we were steppingstones.”

  She rests her head against my chest and circles my waist with her arm, the gesture more friendly than anything. We sit there for a few heartbeats before she says, “Do you think I’ll ever find what you have with Ryan?”

  Drawn back, I say, “What?”

  Sitting up, she smiles wickedly at me. “Come on, Colby. She’s perfect for you. She’s your person. The yin to your yang. It’s so obvious.”

  “Sage”—I shake my head, another bout of sweat hitting me, this one stronger—“Ryan and I are friends.”

  “You’re more than friends.”

  “If you think something happened between us, it didn’t. I would never do that to you.”

  She gently presses her hand against my rapidly beating heart, trying to calm me. “I know you would never do anything to me; you’re not that kind of man. It took me a bit, but once I saw the two of you together in a better light, in the right light, I could tell there was more than friendship. It wasn’t what broke us up, so please trust that. But I’m going to be disappointed if you don’t go after her.”

  I want to snort. Go after Ryan? Fuck, she won’t even return my texts and phone calls as a friend. There is no way in hell she’s going to let me “go after her.”

  Relenting, I shake my head, wanting to set the record straight. “We’re friends, Sage.” If that.

  She shrugs. “Okay. If you say so.” She reaches down to her hand and wiggles her ring off her finger. “I’m guessing you might want this?”

  I shake my head. “Keep it. If anything, it can be a reminder of what you’re striving to find.”

  “Colby, you could return it, get your money back.”

  I chuckle and put the ring in her palm, closing her fingers over it. “Not going to happen. Returning an engagement ring is like the walk of shame. Keep it, pawn it, sell it, I don’t care what you do, but to hell if I’m going to take it back.�
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  She laughs as well. “Ah, yeah, I can see how that would be a blow to your ego.”

  “Don’t want those pity looks.”

  “Understandable.” She clutches the ring to her chest and says, “I’m starving. Should we go out to eat, celebrate our breakup?”

  “I can’t imagine having it any other way.”

  I help her to her feet and stand. God, I cannot believe this conversation took place. For the first time in a long fucking time, I feel I can take a deep breath. I don’t feel . . . burdened, as if I’m doing the wrong thing. Everything Sage said was true. “I think it’s because we both knew we weren’t meant to be with each other.” If she’s right, what do I do next?

  When I go to walk to the bathroom, she calls out my name, and I turn. With a gentle voice and a soft gaze, she says, “Thank you for being my man for a short period of time. You were good to me.”

  I give her a soft smile. “You were good to me too, Sage.” And she was.

  But she’s not my forever.

  Chapter Seventeen

  COLBY

  The door opens and I barge through, walking right past Stryder, to his kitchen where I pop open the fridge and grab a beer. Not even taking a second to say hi, I down half the bottle in one large gulp.

  “Uh . . . is everything okay, man?” Stryder asks, walking into the kitchen.

  I lower the beer and take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Sage and I called off the engagement.”

  Frozen, Stryder blinks a few times before calling out to Rory, “Babe, we’re going to need some Buffalo wings and beer!”

  From the hallway, she comes waddling, yes, waddling—she is that pregnant—and holds her stomach while eyeing me up and down. “Colby, what are you doing?”

  “They called off the engagement,” Stryder answers for me.

  “Oh shit.” She goes to the front door and grabs keys to her car. “I’ll be back.”

  “Wait,” Stryder goes after her. “You stay with Colby. I’ll go get beer, and we’ll order pizza and wings. It will take me five minutes. You shouldn’t have to go out and buy beer at eight months pregnant. What kind of asshole husband would that make me?”