Where We Belong (A Touch of Fate #1)(4)

“I’m with Brit,” he states firmly. “And I’m not going to hurt her...I can’t." He shakes his head. "She hasn’t done anything to deserve this,” he says, waving his hand between the two of us. The pacing continues, back and forth in front of me until he finally removes his hands from his hair and places them on his hips. He turns to face me. There is a finality in his eyes that causes my resolve to crumble. I throw a hand to my mouth, but I can't stop the sob that slips out.

“Harley...” His voice trails off while his eyes search mine—for what, I’m not sure. “Harley, I can't do this. I'm sorry, but I can't." He pauses again, taking a second to sit down on the table. Placing his elbows on his knees, he bends forward and lowers his head. His voice is so soft that I almost don’t hear his next devastating words. “We need to step back and take a break...from our friendship, Harley. We need to take a step back from our friendship.”

I cry, and my body trembles. "No." My hands shake, my mind working furiously to find a way to fix this. "No," I repeat desperately. "We don't need to take a step back. We need to move forward." I crouch down in front of Ty and grip his fisted hands in mine. "Please give me a chance. I know you're scared, but I promise, you won't regret it. You won't regret me." My eyes flicker across his face, pleading with him to take this leap.

He exhales loudly and raises his head. “I can’t believe you're doing this to me—to Brit. Now. When I’m suppose to be moving to New York in a week. A f*cking week, Harley!" Standing abruptly, his eyes lock onto something over my left shoulder, but I can’t tear my eyes away from him to find out what it is. “I can’t do this. I won't do it." A cold shiver of realization trembles through me. “I’m leaving next week for New York—with Brit. It's best for my relationship with her if you and I don’t talk...at least not until I can sort through all of this in my head."

His words hit me like a knife to the chest. He can't mean that. He's just in shock. "We can't be friends?" I hiccup, gripping my chest where I'm sure there's a gaping whole from his words. “Please don’t do this. Please, Ty! I’m sorry." I grab his arm, forcing him to face me. “I’m so sorry. Please forget I said anything. I can’t lose you...I won’t lose you." My tears fall freely. I’ve stopped wiping them away; there’s just no point.

I startle when I hear someone behind me clear their voice. I turn slowly and find myself face-to-face with Brit. I’m not sure how long she's been standing there, but based on the look on her face, I’d say she pretty much knows what’s going on.

Ty moves to walk around me, and I quickly grab his wrist. “Please, Ty,” I whisper. Gently removing my hand, he reaches for Brit, entwining his fingers with hers. Without a backward glance, they walk away.

Slumping down onto the picnic table, I close my eyes, praying that this was all a bad dream and I just have to wake up. Realistically, I know it’s not, but there is always that small window of time right after something horrible happens when you feel like if you hope and pray hard enough, you can actually rewind time and undo what’s been done.

I grip my hair tightly at the scalp and watch as my tears cascade off my face and hit the table below. I'm not sure how long I sit, but eventually I get up and pace the alley behind the bar, trying to wrap my head around everything that just happened. This is why I never told him before...for exactly this reason.

What on earth have I done?

He can’t seriously end our friendship.

He can’t really walk away.

There is way too much history for him to do that. Right?

A gravelly, slurred voice interrupts my thoughts. "Harley? That you?" The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I squint through my tears, trying to see whom the drunken voice belongs to. Relief washes over me at the familiar face. I try to respond, but a deep sob comes out instead. He moves to my side quickly. "You're crying," he says, putting a comforting hand to my back. "Please don't cry."

I normally wouldn't get this close to someone who isn't Tyson or Quinn, but right now I need the familiarity and comfort he offers. In a desperate move, I wrap my arms around his middle, bury my face in his chest, and cry like I've never cried before.

The stench of smoke deeply rooted in his shirt fills my nostrils and the stale odor of liquor makes me sick as he whispers calming words in my ear. I should be worried. I've heard that he's gotten into some heavier drugs recently, but I know I'm safe.

We stand there for several minutes, neither of us saying a word. His body sways slightly to the left. I grip him tightly to steady his balance and raise my eyes to his. "Are you okay?"

His red-rimmed, glossy eyes lock onto mine, but he doesn't respond. I watch as his expression changes. A shiver runs up my spine as goose bumps immediately cover my body. "Are you okay?" I repeat, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. Loosening my grip, I attempt to step back, but his arms tighten around me.

"You always smell so good," he slurs, his eyes roaming my face. His hand slides up my back and to my neck. He wraps his fingers around my hair and tugs, forcing my head to snap back. Leaning into me, he runs his nose along the side of my neck, and my stomach churns. "I would have given you anything. But I wasn't good enough for you, was I?" I don't respond and he yanks my hair again, arching my back. "Was I?" he seethes.