Never Standing Still (The Never Duet #1)(40)
“I’m not made for this,” I gasped, trying to hold on to air that was slipping away from me. It was something I’d known about myself all along—my entire life—but in that moment, it hurt more, cut deeper, than it ever had. And I could only determine it was because I’d never wanted to be with someone as much as I wanted to be with him. “I can’t give myself to anyone, and when we were kissing me and I felt your hands on my skin, all I wanted to do was give you all of me.” My hand came to my chest, as if the weight of my own hand could stop my breaths from panting in and out of my lungs.
“That doesn’t make sense, babe. I want you, all of you. You don’t have to be afraid of me, of us. If you want to be with me, then be with me. Pushing me away, punishing yourself, will only end up hurting us both. Can’t you see that?”
“I couldn’t do that to you. Couldn’t tie you down that way. Couldn’t tie myself down. I don’t want to be still, Riot. I can’t just be.”
He looked at me with sad eyes for what seemed like hours, just staring, hardly blinking, but not speaking. When he did finally move, it was his head that fell forward as he took in a deep breath. When he looked back up at me, he was resigned.
“All right then. Let’s get that battery fixed.” He turned and walked out the door, and I heard his footsteps moving down the stairs.
Chapter Twelve
In Too Deep
It had been a painfully awkward drive to the small hardware store in Lincoln City, but once I’d shown Riot the panel that needed repairing, he’d taken to the task silently and hadn’t once said a word to me. I tried to be helpful, to offer assistance, but he’d politely snubbed me, just shaking his head.
I was being torn directly down the center. Half of me wanted to reach out to him, tell him I was willing to risk everything to be with him, while the other half of me was sure I’d made the right decision of pushing him away.
I was sitting in a magician’s box, cut in half, and Riot was standing over me, saw in hand.
How would I ever put myself back together?
I’d made my way onto the porch, looking out at the sky, listening to the waves—not visible for all the trees—wrapped tightly in my favorite comfy sweater. I heard the door open and looked over to see Riot walk out, closing the door softly behind him.
“Battery’s all installed.”
“Thanks for that,” I said, turning back to the sound of the ocean.
“It’s not a problem.” His words sounded a little sad.
“Do you, um, want me to drive you to the airport? I can drive you to Portland, or back to Seattle even. Your choice.”
“My choice?” he said with a sharp bite to his words. “You’ll give me a say? That’s kind of you.”
I opened my mouth to apologize, to tell him I was sorry for everything, more than he could ever know, but no words came out and I was left with my mouth gaping open.
“Listen, as far as I’m concerned, I could really just go for a beer. My flight doesn’t leave until Sunday night from Seattle, so perhaps we could just try and spend the evening here and go back to Seattle tomorrow.” He paused, still not looking at me. “I think I’d like to go to that bar you showed me on our way in to town, but I get it if you don’t want me to take your car, so I can call a cab.”
“Is it all right if I go with you?” It was painfully uncomfortable here in this house, so I figured leaving with him, going someplace neutral, might ease the tension. “I mean, I’ll stay here if you’d prefer, and you can just take my Rover. You won’t be able to get a cab out here.”
He sighed, but then spoke. “Just let me wash my hands and grab my jacket.”
Twenty minutes later we walked into Tilly’s, and the level of noise was overwhelming. There were people laughing, chatting, yelling across the bar at each other; but everyone was happy and smiling. It was a real slap in the face and a reminder that Riot and I were existing in a very awkward bubble.
I let my gaze roam around the restaurant and I finally locked eyes with Tilly. It took just a moment for her to register it was me, but I saw her face light up when it clicked, and I watched as she excused herself from behind the bar and made her way toward me. I’d only actually seen Tilly a few times over the summer, on random days when I’d met Ella and Porter at the beach for a day, but she was always welcoming and that night was no different. She came to me, arms open, and wrapped me in a hug.
It was instinctual to let myself relax into her embrace. Tilly was the mom of all moms and I didn’t have mine anymore, so when Tilly hugged me, I let her. And I let myself feel it. When she pulled away, after many more seconds than a normal acquaintance hug would last, it was still too soon.
“Riot,” I said through a breath, “this is Tilly. She’s Porter’s mom.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said to Tilly, reaching out to shake her hand. “Porter is the guy who just married your best friend, Ella, right?” he asked me.
At the word married, Tilly’s expression became pained for just one moment, before a beautiful smile spread across her face.
“Those kids are in a lot of trouble for running off to get married without me,” she sighed, obviously trying to hold back a tear or two. I reached out and rubbed my hand up and down her arm.