Sever

by J. M. Miller

  “No, not yet,” he replied, tapping his fingers against the front of his jeans and glancing over to me with uncertain eyes. “I’m considering NYU.”

  “Really? Your mom seems convinced you’ll stick closer to home to help with the shop since Seth’s at the University of Georgia.”

  “Yeah, I’m not so sure …” he trailed off and looked my way again. Her eyes followed his, taking me in a little more seriously this time. “Annisyn, this is Julia.” He turned back to her. “Julia, this is my girlfriend, Annisyn.”

  I cracked a small, satisfied grin, holding back the megawatt “he’s mine” smile that itched to come out. I hadn’t wanted to gloat so badly since I’d tackled my last douchebag on the football field a few years back. I didn’t even care what their circumstances had been—he dumped her, she dumped him, mutual split—I was with him now, and he had no problem acknowledging that.

  To my surprise, she walked closer to the counter with a gorgeous and polite smile that didn’t look the least bit fake. “Nice to meet you, Annisyn.”

  “You too,” I replied and cut my eyes to Damian.

  His lips tipped into a shy smile, reminding me of the first day I’d walked into Rewind. I returned the smile, but I really wanted to walk around the counter and kiss the shy right off his face.

  “Well,” Julia said, breaking our gaze. “I just wanted to drop in and say hi. If I don’t see you anytime soon, good luck … to both of you,” she added, glancing at me. “With whatever college you choose. I’ve already chosen my dad’s alma mater, University of Connecticut, so if you do end up heading to NYU, let me know.” She nodded with a smile, taking one more lingering look at Damian before heading for the door.

  He had to have been the dumper.

  After the door closed, Damian looked back to me with soft eyes.

  The sweet vibe he was giving off made me want to attack him with kisses, but I needed to address the real issue first. I stepped out from behind the counter and moved in front of him. “You got your acceptance letters? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  His face tipped down, not wanting to look at me directly, and his fingers continued to tap against the top of his thigh. “I’m not sure.”

  “Bullshit,” I stated, rejecting the weak answer. “Tell me why.”

  His head lifted and his eyes narrowed a bit. “I wasn’t ready to tell you because I didn’t want to …”

  “What?” I asked, pressing my palm hard against his chest when he looked away. Weaving my head in front of him, I finally caught his eyes again. That’s when it hit me: he was afraid to upset me. “Was this another way to save me?” I asked, anger building inside.

  He shook his head. “I just thought it was pointless to tell you before I made a decision.”

  “Ever think maybe I’d be happy for you regardless?”

  “I know you’d act happy, but I’m not so sure you’d actually be happy. I know because I’m not exactly happy about it either.”

  “So you’d rather stall because you haven’t made up your mind.”

  “Neither have you,” he said with an irritated tone. “Any other time I’ve attempted to talk to you about the future, you shut me out. That’s why I didn’t bring it up. You never want to talk about anything past tomorrow. Logically, I assume fear is the reason, so why don’t you admit it? What are you afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” I lied, clenching my hands at my side, knowing he was right.

  “My turn to call bullshit. With everything that’s happened between us, I know you’re afraid of the same thing I am. You used to scare me, Syn, because you made me see more of myself, see what was possible. I’m not scared of you anymore. I’m only scared of losing you.” His stiff tone dissolved with the last words. He reached out to my waist, pinching my tank top to pull me closer. “Are you afraid to lose me?”

  I looked into his eyes, watching all the emotion behind them as I considered my words. Was I afraid? Yes, terrified. Should I say that? No. Aside from him, I had nothing going on with my life. He had everything, and I wouldn’t be the one to lessen his chances.

  Breaking the silence, he said, “University of Maryland and Delaware are two waiting for a response. Delaware offered a partial to play ball, and UMBC has a nice setup for music technology.” He dipped his face closer and whispered to my ear, “Tell me you want me to stay.”

  “No,” I murmured. “I can’t tell you that.”

  He backed away and stared down at me. “Then tell me something. Anything. What are your plans? Do you want to stay here?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. Originally, I’d planned to leave, pack up and go anywhere. Now, I honestly didn’t know.

  “Do you want to leave?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Dammit, Syn. Give me something,” he said with a frustrated sigh, throwing his head back. When he returned his eyes to me, they dove deep into mine. He grasped both sides of my face and pushed his fingers into my hair. His eyebrows pulled together, creasing pained lines in his forehead. “I love you. I love you so much, and I just want you to let me in. Tell me what you want.”

  It was such a simple request, but it was one that involved the past as much as the future. He knew way more about me than most people ever would, but I still worried that he’d find out the truth, so I couldn’t let him decide his life around me. It could ruin his future. Admitting that I’d fallen in love with him would make it worse. Because it was undeniably true. I’d willingly handed him my heart, even though I knew it was bound to break.

  A tear escaped my eye, and his thumb wiped it from my cheek. “It’s okay. Just tell me, Syn,” he whispered.

  “I love you too,” I whispered back, unable to hold the words in any longer. In my heart, I wanted him to know I felt the same, but the words were bittersweet—light and airy, sinking fast toward the inevitable end.

  My head reeled, no longer just with physical pain. Finding out that Seth had been watching me for two weeks and that he’d planned the whole night … I couldn’t even think.

  The front door slammed.

  “That mother fucker. He can’t run far enough.” Damian growled, looking toward the dim hallway with his entire body trembling. When he turned back to me, his expression softened. “I’m so sorry, Syn.”

  “It’s not your fault.” I shook my head despite the headache.

  “It is. This is all because of me. If I hadn’t gone to the club to see you—”

  “He has some serious issues, Damian, and none of that is your fault.” I tugged my hands, testing the slack in the ties. It was tighter than before, leaving hardly any space to maneuver.

  An engine cranked outside and a light through the windows caught my eyes, highlighting the trees along the far corner of the property and shining a beam out over the bay.

  “He’s taking my truck.” Damian looked over his shoulder and down to see the knots. “We have some time to work on this. Depending on the drive and how long it takes him at the shop, it should give us at least twenty minutes.”

  “So what you told him was true? The combo is his birthday?”

  “Yeah,” he replied, glancing around. “He might have some deluded thoughts about me being our parents’ favorite, but that was never true. Even with all the crap he put them through, they still love him, and they still made excuses for him.” His arms stiffened, pulling at the ties. “Help me stand again,” he requested.

  I followed his lead and we scooted our feet in to stand up. “Excuses? Why?”

  After we were in a crouched position, he leaned away from the banister and slammed his shoulder back into the wooden rod. “Because of his legs.” He grunted. “He was doing really well at UGA, but that ended when he broke his legs. He had to go to physical therapy for a long time. He couldn’t play ball anymore. Even with a long shot of a chance, he was still holding onto the dream of going pro. He couldn’t get over it.”

  It all clicked. I hadn’t thought much about it while they were talkin
g about him dropping out of college. I just assumed he had partied too hard and destroyed his own dreams, but now I realized I was the one who had destroyed them for him. Today was more than payback for breaking his legs. It was revenge for taking his dream, his life.

  He leaned away from the banister again, pulling my body too before bucking back against the rod. It wouldn’t budge. “There’s not enough room.”

  “How did he break his legs?” I asked, curious as to what Seth had told everyone.

  Giving up on the banister, we slid back down to the floor and he shifted his hands closer to my back. His fingers found mine and traced up to locate the material at my wrists. After they started digging for the knot again, his eyes returned to me. “It was the same night you left. He took off right after you did. With everything happening, I barely even noticed he was there. My mom got a phone call later saying he’d been in some kind of accident. When we got to the hospital, he told us that he’d been attacked by a group of guys downtown. He admitted to being drunk, too drunk to know who had done it.”

  “It wasn’t a group of guys,” I admitted through a soft breath. My heartbeat quickened, recalling that night. I was nervous to tell Damian the truth, but he had to know what tonight was really about.

  “What?” His fingers stilled.

  I looked down at our arms pressed together, his skin on mine, hoping it would give me courage. I didn’t want this news to break what little we’d started to mend. “That night … It wasn’t a group of guys. Seth followed me to the lighthouse.”

  “He followed you?”

  “He was drunk. I’m not sure how far he would have taken it, I just know he was serious.”

  “Son of a bitch,” he grumbled. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have—”

  “I had just broken up with you, Damian. I wasn’t about to run back. I just couldn’t.”

  “Syn, I could’ve done something. Did he hurt you? Did he … touch you?” The words were strangled.

  “Not really,” I assured. “Things escalated, I shoved him, and he stepped back with nowhere to go but down. I had to make a choice, and I let him fall.” I recalled that night, how I’d watched him tumble, heard the cracks when he hit the granite. “Maybe this is my fault. If I would’ve grabbed him—”

  “Syn,” Damian interrupted. “He wouldn’t have been thankful if you’d grabbed him. I don’t even want to think about what he would’ve done if you had.” He dipped his face closer. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I wanted to come after you, but I fought myself. I thought you needed space, time. But I should’ve been there.”

  I stared at his lips as he spoke, remembering everything about us at his words. What we’d had was good. It was real, true, and tortured only by me. I’d been so wrong in life, about everything. So convinced that I would have ruined everything for him, but he was right: there was no real way of knowing. I should’ve trusted his determination, his drive to succeed instead of doubting him. I should have trusted us.

  Glancing back up to his eyes, my thoughts returned to the present. I had to refocus on the problem at hand. “Do you think you can get the knots?”

  His fingers started digging again. He had been just as lost in the moment. “I hope so.”

  After another minute, I offered to give it a try.

  He released his hold and let me reach into his hands. I stretched my fingers as far as they’d go, but I still couldn’t get a good grip. “Can you move them a little closer?”

  “Yeah.” His body shifted, brushing against me more.

  I shivered then worked my fingers into the material at his wrists. “Sorry. The whiskey is a little damp still. It’s making me cold.”

  “It’s not just the whiskey. You’re body’s finally calming down. Heart rate, breathing.” His fingers touched the sides of my hands. “How are your hands? I didn’t see any new blood, and I don’t feel any.”

  “They aren’t bad. What about your finger?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “The headache sucks, though,” I added with a miserable chuckle.

  He let out a breathy laugh—the same one I’d heard at least a thousand times before—and his lips tipped up into a fraction of a smile that I found myself mirroring. “Mine too. He must have used something when he knocked me out.”

  “Right.” I pursed my lips and arched a sore eyebrow. “Because what? You’re too macho to be knocked out by just a fist now?”

  He laughed louder than before, shaking his body and shaking mine in turn. “I hope I’ve taken enough hits to know.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Mr. Wide Receiver. But you didn’t play ball in college, right? So have you really taken any hits since high school?”

  “A few.” The humor disappeared from his words. “Nothing as bad, I suppose.”

  I dug my fingers farther into the seemingly endless material. It was impossible to tell where the knots were, but I had to keep trying. Damian’s breaths slowed beside me and I glanced up to him, studying his profile the way I used to. I wished I had never let him go. Five years were gone. Five years of memories and experiences we could have shared if I hadn’t broken us.

  The three shallow lines beneath his eyes creased as he smiled.

  “What?” I asked, curious as to the reason for smile.

  “I was just remembering the day we met. You were such a cocky chick.”

  “Me? Never.” I smiled.

  “You stepped up to those guys like you feared nothing. You haven’t changed much, Ankle Biter.”

  “Wow. Ankle Biter. I forgot about that. I guess I can understand how that was appropriate.” I shook my head as I considered the first part of what he’d said. “But I was never fearless. I was looking for a way to escape. Anything that made my heart race, I went for.”

  Damian wiggled his hands and arms, attempting to create more slack. “I can understand why it would. After seeing Seth tonight, I know how some people try to hide from their reality. I’m glad you didn’t fall into something else.”

  “Maybe not something.” I stared into his eyes, watching as curiosity pulled his brows close together. “Someone.” Trying to capture all the bravery I could, I averted my eyes and looked down. “I never wanted to get close to anyone, but it happened with you. You made my nightmares disappear. Losing you became my biggest fear, and I thought I needed to face it like all the rest, to save you from my life, to save you from ruining your own. Saying goodbye was the hardest decision I’ve ever made, and it wound up being the wrong one. I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I did. I just need you to know … in case—”

  “We’re getting out of this, and Seth won’t get away with anything.” His arm nudged my shoulder, drawing my eyes back to his. “We can do this.”

  The words blanketed me with comfort I’d thought I’d never feel again. Maybe it was just due to circumstance, but I’d take it. I’d take every little bit.

  “Yeah,” I agreed with a tiny smile, then started working my fingers into the material again.

  As silence crept between us, I couldn’t help but wonder about the years we’d been apart. About him. I wanted to hear more. “Congrats on the house.”

  “Doesn’t feel so great right now, but thanks.” He paused for a few thoughtful seconds. “In school, I interned, made some contacts, and landed a few independent jobs composing some things. I added to my equipment so I could do some things from home. At least, I could before tonight.” He grunted and looked up toward the sound room.

  “I’m happy for you, Damian.” I said it to keep his mind off the damage, but also because it was so true. I was happy for him. “And proud.”

  “Proud, huh?” He bit his lips as the edges tugged into a fraction of a smile.

  “Of course. I always was.”

  His eyes drifted away from mine, down to my lips. I licked them nervously, feeling the heat behind his gaze. Anticipation and anxiety stirred, and my fingers worked the material harder. The tips flicked a hard edge. “The knot.” I pin
ched it and grabbed the other side to start digging in.

  Damian strained to push his hands closer. “Can you get it?”

  “I think so.” We struggled for a few minutes. Finally, the knot loosened and Damian’s wrists were free.

  “Give me your hands,” he said.

  I sighed when he untied my hands and the material fell away from my skin.

  He smiled down at me and glanced over his shoulder. “I might be able to get the knot on the banister now. Can you help me move closer?”

  We slid our feet and got into a crouched position again. After some hopping and shifting, our connection to the stairs and to each other’s elbows was gone. From there, we kneeled and worked the knots at our ankles.

  “Ahh, that feels good,” he said, stretching one of his legs to the side. “Do you think you can reach my elbows?”

  “I might. It’ll be better if you lie down.”

  He dropped a shoulder to the wood floor and rolled onto his chest.

  I eyed his body and stood up, considering the best way to position myself. “Can I sit on you?”

  He laughed to the floor, shaking his whole body.

  “What?”

  “Would I really say no?”

  “Okay, smartass.” I stepped over his body and eased down to sit on his butt with my bound arms facing his head. After an awkward minute, I removed the material from his elbows and stood up.

  He jumped up and stretched his arms over his head, flexing every muscle in his chest and stomach. A relieved groan rumbled up through his throat.

  I couldn’t help but to stare at him. The sight of his body made mine flush all over, heating every part with desire. My eyes wandered all the slopes and grooves, and the tattoos. The gray and black tattoo on his chest caught my attention again. I still couldn’t place it, but it seemed familiar.

  “Okay, you’re up,” Damian said, dropping his arms to his sides. He stepped closer, but stopped when he noticed I was staring at the tattoo.

  “What is it?” I asked, unable to quiet my interest. I tugged at my arms, forgetting they were still bound behind me, wanting to touch it, to touch him.