Love Me Like You Won't Let Go

by Toppen, Melissa

  “Of course I do. Fuck, she’s all I want. But I hurt her too bad. I cut her too deep. I was fucking stupid to believe she could just get over that. That I could walk back into town after six years and she would forgive me, welcome me back with open arms.” I shake my head. “I’ve done enough damage. I won’t ruin this for her too.” I nod to the bartender when he slides a fresh drink in front of me.

  “So you’re going to let her marry another man?”

  “What the hell else can I do?”

  “Fight for her.”

  “I have been fighting. Every second since the moment I came back. Hell, every second for the last six years I’ve been fighting to get back to her. But it doesn’t matter anymore. She’s moved on. She’s getting married tomorrow and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”

  “So what? You’re just going to sit here in this bar and try to forget? How well do you think that’s going to work out for you?”

  “Guess we’ll find out.” I shrug, lifting the glass to my lips.

  “Unbelievable.” She shakes her head, a look I can only describe as disappointment etched into every feature of her face. “I thought she meant more to you than that.”

  “She means everything to me.” I slam my fist down onto the bar.

  “Then prove it. Stop her from making quite possibly the biggest mistake of her life.”

  “And how do you suggest I do that?”

  “Tell her how you feel.”

  “You think I haven’t? You think I haven’t spent nearly every day of the last month telling her how much I love her. How sorry I am for leaving. How much I want her back. I begged her, Allie. I begged her not to marry him. To choose me. And you know what she said? She said she doesn’t want me. She said she wants me out of her life forever. Does that sound like someone who wants me to fight for her?”

  “She’s scared.”

  “Well you know what? So am I. I’m fucking terrified. But I can’t make her want something she doesn’t want.”

  “But she does want you. You have to know that.”

  “No. What I know is that I fucked up and I lost her forever. I can’t change the past, Allison. No matter how much I wish I could.”

  “You two are both so fucking stubborn.” She pushes to a stand, dropping a ten dollar bill on the bar. “Fine, sit here, drink yourself into a stupor. I don’t even know why I fucking bother.” She roughly pushes her chair in. “If neither of you are willing to fight for each other then I’m sure as hell not going to do it for you.” She leans in, lowering her voice slightly. “But mark my words, if you don’t do something now before it’s too late, you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you had.”

  With that, she spins around and quickly walks away.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Blakely

  My hands shake as I try to smooth the front of my dress. Tears well behind my eyes and I feel seconds away from losing the contents of my stomach.

  If this is what it feels like to get married, I don’t know why anyone does it.

  It’s because you’re marrying the wrong man.

  I’ve spent days trying to convince myself that this is the right thing. That marrying Tyler is my future. But now that it’s here, now that my time has run out, I feel like maybe I’m losing my future instead of gaining it.

  I hate that I feel that way. I hate everything about it. Truthfully, I hate myself. I hate that I can’t be happy. That I can’t be excited to marry someone as incredible as the man currently waiting for me at the end of the aisle. But I can’t be excited when all I can think about is Asher.

  As I laid in bed last night, all I could think about was our first time together. I don’t know why that night specifically stands out among so many other memories. Maybe because it was the first time I realized just how deeply I loved him. Or maybe it’s because it’s the last time that I truly felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be. Either way, I haven’t been able to shake the thought since the moment it creeped in.

  When I close my eyes I see him. When I breathe in deep through my nose I smell him. When I lick my lips I taste him. It’s like he’s everywhere and I can’t shake him.

  He hasn’t called, hasn’t tried to contact me in any way since the night I left his hotel room. I think in my effort to convince myself that I didn’t love him, maybe I was able to convince him. Maybe I’ve ruined my chances to be happy with either man.

  I’ve never felt so torn. So sick with guilt and uncertainty. It’s like either way I turn, I’ll lose and now I don’t know which way to go. I can’t marry Tyler or not marry Tyler based on Asher. It has to be because I want to marry him or I don’t. The only problem is I don’t know what I want.

  “You ready, honey?” I look up to see my dad looking down at me, his own eyes glazed over in unshed tears.

  I nod, fearing that if I open my mouth to speak the wrong word will come out.

  The girls have already made their way down the aisle with the groomsmen while my father and I wait on the other side of the doors for the wedding march to begin. The moment it does, the moment that familiar tune carries through the doors, I find my feet moving backward instead of forward.

  “Blakely?” My dad gives me a puzzled look, releasing my arm as I continue to move backward.

  “I can’t do this, Dad.” I shake my head, my body trembling violently. “I can’t marry him.”

  “Honey.” He moves toward me but I step further away.

  “Please tell him I’m sorry,” I choke out, my tears finally breaking free. “Tell him I’m so, so sorry,” I say seconds before I turn, my feet seeming to act on their own accord as they carry me from the church.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Blakely

  Seven Years Ago

  “Are you sure about this?” Asher hovers above me, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

  “I’m sure,” I reassure him for what feels like the millionth time. “I want this. I want you.” I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and pull his face down to mine. “I want you to be my first.”

  “I don’t just want to be your first. I want to be your only.” He places a kiss to my lips.

  “You are. You will be.”

  “Forever?” He pulls back, something I can’t quite place swimming in his eyes.

  “Forever,” I promise.

  “I love you, B.” He presses forward and I feel myself stretch around him as he enters me inch by painful inch.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, stopping once he’s planted fully inside me.

  “Yes. Keep going,” I urge him on, the pressure feeling almost unbearable.

  Positioning his hands on either side of my head, he begins to move. Slowly at first, gauging my reaction with each thrust of his hips, gradually increasing his speed as my body begins to adjust.

  So many emotions swarm me. Pleasure. Fear. Love. Acceptance. They all bleed together, overwhelming my senses, making me feel things I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before. Both physically and mentally.

  I knew I loved Asher. I’ve known it since we were just kids. But I don’t think I realized how much until this very moment.

  It’s not perfect. I’m sure no first time is. We fumble and adjust, trying to find what works for each other. But it’s perfect for me. Every single second of it.

  The way Asher whispers in my ear, telling me how much I mean to him. The way his lips find mine and he kisses me deep like he needs to taste every inch of me. The way his hands touch me, gentle yet rough all at the same time. Every move, every word, every touch, takes me to new heights. Testing my limits. I feel weightless, like I’m floating through time and space without any real grasp on either. It’s as if Heaven and Earth are melding into one and I’m caught somewhere in the in between.

  ——

  “Tell me what you’re thinking about.” Asher slides his fingers gently up and down my arm, my skin prickling beneath his touch.

  “I’m thinking that I’ve never felt
more perfect than I do right now.” I nuzzle my face into his chest, loving the feel of his heart beat beneath my cheek.

  “No regrets?” he asks, causing me to lift my head and meet his gaze.

  “Not a single one.” I smile up at him.

  “You’d tell me if you did?” He seems uncertain and unsure of himself which is very un-Asher like.

  “One thing I will never do is lie to you, Asher. You will always know where I stand.”

  “Okay.” He blows out a short breath, seeming to relax.

  “What about you? How do you feel?”

  “Do you really need to ask me that?” He gives me a knowing look, my smile spreading further.

  “Such a guy.” I shake my head, laughing when he abruptly shifts and I find myself suddenly pinned beneath him.

  “I was also thinking perhaps we should do it again.” His grin turns mischievous.

  “Oh you were, were you?” I tease.

  “Blakely Harris, I’ve waited half my life to have you in my bed. Did you really think I was going to let you go after only one time?”

  “You can’t just hold me captive in your bedroom,” I point out playfully.

  “Wanna bet?” He smirks, pressing further down on top of me.

  “Then again, maybe I’d like that.” I nibble on my lower lip, watching his gaze darken as I do.

  “It’s official,” he announces, lowering his face to mine.

  “What is?”

  “You are the perfect woman. I’d already suspected you were but now I know.”

  “Well then I guess that makes you one lucky man.” I press up, laying a light kiss to his jaw.

  “The luckiest.”

  “And don’t you forget it.” I tangle my fingers into the back of his hair.

  “I don’t think I could even if I tried.” He smiles before dropping his mouth to mine, kissing me so deeply I swear I can feel the sensation all the way to my toes.

  Chapter Thirty

  Asher

  My feet can’t move fast enough. Each step I take feels weighted, like I’m carrying heavy boulders around both of my legs.

  I run toward the church, not sure what I’m going to find when I make it inside.

  I’ve run the scenario through my head countless times on the way here. What I’ll say. What I’ll do. How B will react to seeing me on her wedding day. And for every scenario I played out in my head, even the ones where she’s so furious she can’t even look at me, not one involved me walking away without her at the end of it. It’s a thought I can’t entertain at this point.

  After Allison’s little impromptu pep talk, for a lack of a better word, I got good and drunk and then I did something I haven’t done in years. I went back to my hotel room and cried.

  I don’t remember much beyond that, but when I woke this morning everything came back into focus and Allison’s words from the night before hit me like a blast of cold water to the face.

  She was right. I have to fight, otherwise I’ll never be able to live with myself. It doesn’t matter what Blakely said or how hard she’s pushed me away up to this point. I know she loves me. I know the person she wants to be with is me. I can feel it in my bones.

  And if she does turn me away, if Tyler is who she truly wants to be with, then at least I’ll know I did everything that I could.

  It’s no longer about pride. What the hell does pride matter if in the end I still lose the girl? I’ll make a complete fool out of myself a million times over if it means B will be back with me where she belongs in the end.

  I burst into the church so forcefully that the door hits the stopper loudly, the wood vibrating against the impact. I barely register the sound as my eyes sweep the empty church.

  I glance down at my watch and then back up, my heart hitting my ribs so hard every beat is like a punch to my chest.

  Where is everyone?

  Where is she?

  Panic doesn’t creep in, it hits me all at once, my entire body feeling the effects.

  Am I too late?

  Did I miss it?

  I look to my left down a vacant hallway and then to my right, spotting someone at the far end of the hall. Jogging in that direction, I come to an abrupt halt when a door a few feet ahead of me swings open and Mary steps out, two large bags draped over her arm. Her eyes widen the instant she sees me.

  “Asher,” she says, her voice too high.

  “Did I miss it?” I ask, not trying to hide the panic in my voice. “The wedding. Did I miss it?” I repeat when she doesn’t answer me right away.

  “There was no wedding.”

  “What do you mean there was no wedding?” I try to reel myself in and not get too excited, but I can’t control the surge of relief that has already started to filter in.

  “Blakely couldn’t go through with it. She took off right before she was supposed to walk down the aisle.”

  “She didn’t go through with it,” I repeat, running both of my hands through my hair as I try to process the information. “She didn’t go through with it,” I say again, this time more to myself as if I still can’t believe what I’m hearing.

  “I had to come back here and get her clothes and stuff.” Mary gestures to the bags in her arms. “She left in such a hurry. She left everything behind.”

  “Where is she now?” I ask, only half listening at this point.

  “I don’t know. I thought she’d be with you.”

  “How long ago did she leave?”

  “Twenty minutes ago, maybe.” She shrugs.

  “Thank you, Mary,” I say, already backing away.

  “Asher,” she calls after me just as I’ve turned and started back up the hallway.

  “Yeah?” I strain out impatiently, turning back toward her.

  “Don’t screw it up this time.” She smiles.

  “I won’t.” I wink, breaking into a run seconds later.

  ——

  When I left the church I headed back to the hotel, thinking, or rather hoping, that Blakely would be there waiting for me when I got there. She wasn’t.

  I tried calling several times, but every single time it went straight to voicemail without even ringing.

  Not knowing where else to look, I headed to her parents’ house. As soon as I pulled into the driveway I spotted Blakely in the backyard, swinging on the old tree swing her dad hung there when we were kids, her wedding dress dragging along the ground beneath her.

  I’ve been standing at a short distance away, watching her for the last couple of minutes, thinking about all the times I found Blakely in this exact spot over the years. She used to say she did some of her best thinking on that swing. I can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking about at this very moment. Whatever it is she seems lost to it, giving no indication that she senses my presence as I quietly approach.

  “Need a push?” I watch her bare shoulders stiffen at the sound of my voice but she makes no attempt to turn around.

  Grabbing the old, worn ropes on either side of her, I pull back and without a word propel her forward. She swings out and then comes gliding back in my direction. When she reaches me, I press my hands to the middle of her back and give her another light push, keeping her moving without swinging her more than a few short feet.

  “You always did love this swing,” I reminisce as I continue to gently push her, the way I have countless times before.

  She doesn’t speak, doesn’t turn to look at me even once. Instead, she keeps her face forward and her feet pointed out slightly so they don’t drag the ground as I guide her back and forth.

  “I couldn’t do it.” She finally breaks the silence after what feels like several minutes have passed. “I wanted to. I wanted to walk down that aisle. I wanted to get married. But I just couldn’t do it.” Her voice shakes as she speaks.

  “Maybe you couldn’t do it because deep down you knew he wasn’t who you wanted.”

  “But I wanted it to be him,” she croaks, so much emotion in her voice it’s a wonder she’
s even able to speak at all.

  When she swings back toward me, I grab both the ropes, pulling the swing to an abrupt stop. Pressing my cheek to the side of her head, I breathe in the sweet scent of her hair while I think carefully about the next words to leave my mouth.

  “I know I don’t deserve it, B. I know I don’t deserve your love a second time. But I’m hoping you’ll decide to give it to me anyway,” I tell her, fighting against the sting of emotion at the back of my throat.

  “I can’t,” she whispers and my heart feels like it drops into my stomach.

  “B,” I plead, quickly stepping around before dropping to my knees in front of her.

  She looks up, her tear filled gaze finally meeting mine. She looks so beautiful. Even with puffy eyes and makeup streaking down her face, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I ignore the fact that she’s wearing a dress she purchased to marry another man and focus on how breathtaking she looks in it.

  Her dark hair is pulled back at the sides, the rest left down in large curls that fall around her shoulders. Her lips are lined in a deep red color that reminds me of the lipstick she always used to wear whenever she had an excuse to get all dressed up. I’m fairly certain I still have a white button down that wears the effects of that lipstick somewhere in storage. The thought brings a hint of a smile to my lips.

  “You look beautiful,” I tell her, reaching up to wipe away the small black streaks of mascara from under her eyes.

  “I’m a mess,” she sobs, fresh tears spilling over.

  “Well that too,” I agree with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. After a long pause, I add, “But you’re the most beautiful mess I’ve ever seen.”

  I slide my hand down the side of her face before slowly trailing the pad of my thumb along her bottom lip, having to fight the urge to lean in and kiss her.

  “I always loved this color on you,” I tell her.

  “Asher.”

  “I love you, Blakely,” I admit, not able to hold it in for a second longer. “I love you so much.”