“That sounds perfect.” I leaned my head against the back of the seat and let the music consume my senses for the next twenty minutes, intentionally thinking about absolutely nothing.
When the car stopped in front of my building, Jazz turned around in her seat, her gaze regretful. “Here we are, sweetie. Or I can drive around the block, just to buy you some time. On the house, of course.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ve put off the inevitable long enough.” I reached for the door handle and then paused. “I put your tip on the app before, when I made the request, and I don’t have any cash on me, but I’d give you more, if I could.”
“No sweat, honey. I wish I could do something to make this easier on you. Believe me, I’ve been there.”
“I guess we all have been, at one point or another.” I opened the door. “Have a good night.”
Jazz winked at me before she sped off into the growing darkness, and with a long sigh, I opened the door to the apartment building and climbed the steps, wondering if Tate was still here or if he’d gone out looking for me.
I had my answer when I touched the door knob and the door flew open. Tate stood in front of me, his face filled with tension and his eyes dark with worry.
“Oh, my God, Gia. Thank God you’re all right.” Before I could stop him, he’d pulled me into his arms, holding me so close that I couldn’t quite breathe. For the space of several precious heartbeats, I let myself sag against him, wallowing in what was going to be the last time he touched me like this.
After a few seconds, Tate eased back, cupping my face in his hands, his eyes devouring me. “Are you all right? You’re not hurt or anything?” And then, before I could answer, he went on. “Babe, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what made me talk to you that way. I was just—I was out of line.”
He bent, lowering his lips to cover mine, and his were warm, comforting and consuming. This was the moment. I could so easily open to him, slide my arms around him, tell him that it was all okay and that we were okay, and let him lay me down on my bed and make me forget everything, every hurt or worry or doubt or fear. I could keep pretending that I believed we had a chance and a future together.
But it would be cruel, and I couldn’t do that to Tate. And so instead of opening my lips to him, I gently eased my head back away from his and pushed a little, until I wasn’t pressed against his incredible strength.
“Tate . . . don’t. Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong, and what you said was only because I didn’t let up. I shouldn’t have made it such a big deal. I was the one who picked the fight.”
“But I shouldn’t have said . . . what I did. I hit you where I knew it would hurt, and I hate that. I hate that I made you feel like anything that happened before was your fault. It wasn’t.”
That was an argument I wasn’t ready to have now—maybe not ever. And considering what I was about to say, it was also a moot point.
“But Tate, I had a lot of time to do some thinking this afternoon. Not about you—not about anything you said. I thought about me and why I’d pushed you to the point that you felt you had to hit back. I think I did it on purpose, because . . . God.” I swiped at my eyes, where tears I hadn’t expected were gathering. “I think we need to take a break. This isn’t working, and before I tear you apart, we need to step away from each other.”
He was shaking his head before I finished speaking. “No. Gia, no. Babe, it was just an argument. A little fight. All couples have them. So we pick ourselves up, figure out why and how this happened, and we work to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He ran his thumb along my cheekbone. “God, you have no idea. I was terrified when you walked out of here. I wanted to rip out my own tongue for having said that. The look on your face tore my heart out.” The tip of his tongue darted out to swipe over his lips. “I didn’t want to tell you like this, but when I couldn’t find you and you didn’t answer the phone, I was frightened out of my mind, and all I kept thinking was, why didn’t I say this sooner? Why didn’t I say it the minute I knew?”
I had a sudden presentiment of what Tate was about to tell me, and I began to shake my head. “Tate, you don’t—”
“Gia.” He framed my face again, nudging it up until I had no choice but to stare into his green eyes. “Gia, I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time, and I don’t know if there’s a difference or if it’s just semantics or what they say in the movies, but honey, I’m in love with you. I can’t imagine living without you, and I don’t want to think about what that would be like. I want us to have a life together. I’m not rushing you, and I’m not pushing, but yeah, I know that someday, I want to marry you and live with you . . . have babies together and come home to you every single day. We’ll do all that on your time table, because I know you feel like you’re not ready yet, but I promised I’d be honest with you. So this is me, laying it all on the table. I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time, and I never plan to stop.”
The tears that had filled my eyes now leaked down my cheeks, landing on Tate’s fingers. This was going to be hard enough, before he’d spilled his heart all over me. Now it was going to be excruciating.
“Tate.” I swallowed over the lump in my throat. “Tate, I’m sorry. I can’t be—I’m not the person you think you know. You’ve created this idea of me, of who you think I can be. I wish I could be that person. But I can’t. I’m not whole anymore—maybe I never was. I told you before that I’m broken, and I am.”
“You’re not. You’re just . . . you’re healing. But these last months, things have changed. You’ve been different. Happier.” His eyebrows drew together. “Unless I’m kidding myself. Have I imagined it all, Gia? Was it all a lie?”
“Of course not.” I might have to hurt Tate in order to save him from later, deeper heartache, but I wasn’t going to lie. I couldn’t destroy our memories of this year. “I have been happier—happier than I’ve been in a long time. And that’s all because of you. I’m grateful, Tate. I wouldn’t give up our weekends or any of the time we’ve spent together for anything. I was only half-alive before you found me in the chip aisle. You reminded me that it was okay to start living again.”
“Couldn’t that be the first step?” He was almost begging me, and I hated what I was doing to him. “Maybe you just need more time.”
“If I thought that was true, I’d tell you. But I don’t think it is. It’s not you, Tate. Not even a little bit. Believe me, if I trusted that I could be good for anyone, I’d be holding onto you with both hands. But I’m not. I’m . . . beyond help from anyone. I can’t be made whole again.”
“You don’t know that. This—today—it just rattled you. That’s okay. Give me the chance to make it up to you, and I promise, I can get us back on track. Everything can be good again. Just . . . give me another shot. I can be more patient.”
The idea that Tate thought this had anything to do with him crushed me. “You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s not about patience or what you’ve said or how you’ve said it. This is on me. It’s about what I can’t do and who I can’t be. If there was one person in the world who’d make me want to be better, Tate, it’s you. If I had any power over this . . . then I’d change for you. But I don’t. I’ve tried and I’ve tried, and I’ve failed. And I can’t handle letting you down anymore. It’s destroying me.”
He blinked, as though what I was saying was finally making some headway. “Being with me . . . is destroying you?”
I breathed slowly, pain gripping me from the inside out. “Not being with you . . . but trying to be the person you think I am. It’s too hard for me. It’s exhausting, and even though you’re worth it, I’m not. Not when I know that whatever it is between us won’t work long-term. I’ll fuck it up, Tate. I can’t help it. I’ll end up making a wreck of this, and that’s bad enough, but the thought that I could hurt you—I can’t make that choice. I can’t keep going on, knowing it’s going to end in a train wreck.”
“But Gia, don’t you see that what
you’re doing right now is hurting me? You say you don’t want to do that, but—” He spread his hands. “Here we are. You do have the power to not do this. Let’s just sit down and figure out how we move forward.”
“We don’t.” My stomach clenched. “We don’t go forward anymore, Tate. Not together. I’ll be damned if I’m going to watch you turn yourself inside out for someone—for me—when I’m going to end up pulling you down with me.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I took a step backward. “You need to go now. Please. Don’t make this harder on both of us than it already is.”
“Hard? You think this is hard? It’s fucking insane, Gia. It’s a mistake. You’re making a decision for both of us, and it’s the wrong one. I don’t get any say at all? You’re just saying this is how it’s got to be and throwing me out. That’s it, huh? End of story. We walk away, forget about each other and get on with our lives.”
A sob I’d been trying to hold back shook my body. “That’s exactly it. You have a future, Tate. Some day . . . you might not believe me right now, but some day, you’re going to meet a woman who is really the right one for you. She’s going to be whole and healthy and best of all, she’ll be able to love you back the way you love her.” I could see it in my mind; I could picture Tate gazing down at this nameless, faceless woman, his eyes brimming with love and trust and a belief in the future. It almost killed me, knowing that I’d still be alone, always alone, but imagining him happy eased the pain a little. “And when that happens, if you think of me, know that it’s what I wanted for you. Even if you never see me again, know that I’ll always want the best for you—and that when I hurt you today, it was because I knew I wasn’t anywhere near the best.”
“That’s not for you to decide.” He ground out the words. “If I want to keep loving you for the rest of my life, that’s my own decision. It’s my choice. You don’t get to make it for me, dammit. You don’t have the right to tell me that you’re not the one for me. I make that call. I’m not going to just fall out of love with you because you tell me that it’s in my best interest.”
“I can’t do this anymore.” I tightened my arms around my ribs, doing what I could to hold myself together. I couldn’t fall apart while he was still here; if I did, I’d weaken and give in, and the pain would be deferred. It wouldn’t go away, but it would be delayed. That wasn’t going to happen. A quick break was the kindest; that was one thing I’d learned from Matt.
Whether it was my expression, my stance or the anguish in my voice, Tate seemed to understand that I was on the brink of a complete meltdown. He exhaled long, running his hand over his hair.
“Okay. I’ll go for now.” He reached toward me, as though to touch my arm, but I made myself shrink back. The answering expression on his face was pure misery.
“I’ll go now,” he repeated. “But I’m going to call you tomorrow, and we’ll talk. We’ll figure this out. Don’t give up on us, Gia. I promise you that I won’t. Not ever.”
I couldn’t respond, because anything I said would only make him argue more with me and delay him leaving. Right now, I was barely holding on, waiting for him to be gone, so I could dissolve.
Tate opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something else, but he must have decided against it. He stared at me in silence for a few more seconds before he shook his head and walked to the door. I held my breath, waiting for him to go.
“This isn’t the end. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you, Gia. No matter what . . . and always.”
I kept my eyes fastened on the floor until I heard the click of the door closing, and then I sank down, curling in on myself, waiting to cry.
But the tears that had been so close moments before had inexplicably vanished, and now there was only overwhelming pain wracking me. My apartment, my safe hiding place, felt huge and empty without Tate here. I dreaded the thought of having to avoid his calls and visits until he realized that I wasn’t going to change my mind. How long could I hold out until I gave in and opened the door to him? I didn’t want to find out.
With shaking hands, I pulled out my cell phone and hit a contact number. When the call connected, I concentrated on keeping my voice as steady as possible.
“Zelda—it’s me. Can I come over tonight? Actually . . . could I come stay with you for a little while? I need—I need someone, and I need to not be here at my place for now.”
She was quiet for only a second before she answered. “Of course. Do you want me to come get you? I can be in front of your building in ten minutes.”
“No, thanks.” I shook my head, even though I knew she couldn’t see me. “I’ll take the train. I need to toss a few things in a bag. Are you sure about this? I don’t want to inconvenience you or get in your way.”
“Shut the fuck up, G. I just walked in the door from the airport, from seeing Quinn, and I was going to call you anyway, to see when we could catch up. So get your fine ass over here. I’ve only been trying to talk you into this for, what, almost a year? Pack a bag, grab a cab—my treat—and I’ll have Jack and two shot glasses lined up waiting for you.”
I closed my eyes. “I’ll take you up on that cab. Be there in under an hour. Oh, and Zelda? Make sure that bottle of Jack is full, okay? I need it all tonight.”
I heard her soft sigh. “You got it. See you in a few.”
Disconnecting the call, I stood up on wobbly, new-colt legs and looked around my apartment. I had the odd sense that walking out tonight wasn’t going to be a temporary move. This was an end, and I didn’t have any fucking idea how or where to find the next beginning . . . or if I even deserved another start.
Part Two
But I can't stop thinking
How you just keep making
Sense of all that was broken before
And I won't keep faking
'Cause I'm done with taking
'Cause with you I'm not broken anymore
‘Not Broken Anymore’
Blue October
Chapter 15
Tate
“Tate! Boy, didn’t you hear the doorbell? Did you go deaf?”
I frowned at Pops. “What?” I’d heard him speak, but it hadn’t registered. We were sitting at the kitchen table as he perused the sports section of his afternoon paper, and I did what I did best these days: I brooded.
He leaned forward, glaring at me over the top of his newspaper. “The doorbell is ringing. And you were sitting here like a bump on a log. Go answer it.”
“Sorry.” Out of habit, I stood up quickly to do as I’d been told, then paused before I left the kitchen. “Why didn’t you get the door?”
He harrumphed and shook the paper. “That’s why I have a strapping young grandson, so I don’t have to be bothered with doorbells.”
I rolled my eyes and walked through the living room, opening the door without bothering to check to see who was on the porch. This was Gatbury, in the middle of the day; crime was virtually non-existent here.
“Hey, Tate.” Leo Taylor stood with one hand braced the frame of the door. His expression was guarded, as well it might be, since I was sorely tempted to slam the door in his face.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Tate, move your ass out of the way and invite your friend inside. Did I raise you to be rude to visitors? I don’t think so.” Pops had trailed me to the living room, and now he glared at me until I held the door open wider and gestured for Leo to come inside.
“Thanks.” He stretched out a hand toward my grandfather. “Hey, Pops. How’s it going?”
“Eh.” The older man shrugged. “I’m alive and kicking, but living with this one hasn’t been any walk in the park lately. You know, he was a good boy when he was a teenager, but I guess he’s making up for it now.”
I gritted my teeth. “What do you want, Leo?”
He dropped into a chair uninvited, and Pops parked himself on the couch. I didn’t want to sit down, but I felt like a damned idiot standing while they both sat. Grudgingly, I perched on
the edge of the ottoman.
“I’m here to see you, because you’re a stubborn son-of-a-bitch who doesn’t answer his phone or return calls or texts.” Leo shifted in the chair. “If the mountain won’t respond to Muhammed, Muhammed comes to the mountain. Isn’t that how the old saying goes?”
I ignored the question, continuing to glare at the man I’d considered one of my closest friends. “How long have we been friends, Leo?”
“Since the week after I graduated from high school,” he answered promptly. “Since the day you drove me back home after Quinn’s dad was killed.”
“That’s right.” I nodded. “And in all that time, how many favors have I asked of you?”
Leo sighed. “One. Just one.”
“Also right. And when I asked you for that favor, did you or did you not do it?”
Pops grunted. “Boy should’ve been a lawyer.”
“Dude, that’s not fair,” Leo objected. “I did do what you asked me to do. I checked on Gia. I found out where she was and that she was okay. And I told you that at the time.” He hesitated before going on. “But Gia is my friend, too. And she told me that she needed space and time, and she asked me not to push her on contacting you. I had to respect that, didn’t I?”
I didn’t respond, mostly because there was nothing positive I could say.
“Tate, I understand.” Leo hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I went through this, too, remember? I told you earlier this year that letting Quinn go, watching her move three thousand miles away, just about killed me. But she needed to get her head straightened out, and so did I. Give Gia this space.”
“This is different,” I ground out. “You and Quinn—you had years of history behind you. She’s always loved you. You knew she was coming back to you.” I kicked the leg of the coffee table, mostly because it was the only thing close enough to lash out against. The whole thing slid across the room with an awful screech. “I don’t have that with Gia. This was my one shot with her. This was our chance. Now it’s over, and I’ve lost her for good.”
Down By Contact: A Making the Score Football Romance Page 20