Life In Reverse(65)
I pull back enough to see his face, bringing my hands up to cradle his jaw. “I know, but Vance, you need to get those results. Knowing has to be better than living in fear, doesn’t it?”
He sucks in a breath and closes his eyes as if it hurts too much to look at me. Pressing his forehead to mine, he whispers, “I’m even more afraid now that I met you, now that I know I have something to lose. I couldn’t bear it if I broke your heart like that, or if I could no longer remember you….” His words fade as he retreats to a place that is difficult to reach. But I refuse to give up.
“I… I already told you how hard it was for me after my brother died. What I didn’t say was that everyone kept telling me what to feel, how I should feel. But then… you came along. You stood back and allowed me to feel. You gave me room to breathe. And you reminded me of who I am. It was so subtle I almost didn’t realize it was happening. And my brother,” I smile, “he… taught me about life. Every time he jumped off a cliff or skied off the tallest mountain he took a risk. Because to him, that’s what life was all about. I care about you, Vance, and I know you care about me, too. Isn’t that worth the risk?”
His eyes snap open and he tilts his head back with fierce determination. “I’m not willing to risk your heart.”
“Damn it, Vance.” An unexpected passion sweeps over me, making me fight for what I want. “You don’t get to decide what happens with my heart. It’s my heart, my decision. I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself. Besides, you can’t break my heart,” my voice quivers, “it cracked two years ago.” I smother any fear of being this bold and say the truest words I’ve ever spoken. “I want this. I want you here. I want you in my life. I want… I want you to touch me. You’re the only person I want to touch me.”
“God, Ember.” He breathes hard against my cheek. “I want to… how I want to—”
“But you won’t.”
“No.” He closes his eyes on another breath as if trying to gain resolve. A few seconds pass and his gaze is back on mine, forcing me to stare into those tormented eyes. “You have to understand. If I touch you, there won’t be any going back for me. Tonight, I… I finally saw the devastation in my father, and it made me realize how selfish I’ve been. I won’t do that to you.” His hand lifts but then drops away from my face, the lines around his eyes creased with pain. “I have to go,” he whispers, and I bow my head, quietly willing the tears not to fall.
When he reaches the door, he stands there, both of us silent for what feels like forever. I lift my chin as he raises his eyes to mine, and what I find there hurts my heart. I want to beg him to stay, to try to convince him that he could be wrong about everything. But the words don’t come.
I watch with eyes that can no longer hold back tears as his fingers curl around the knob, hesitating. His internal struggle showing in the white of his knuckles, the rise of his chest. In the end, we both lose, because he twists the knob and walks out the door.
My limbs are numb, prickly, as if my whole body has fallen asleep. Part of me wants to collapse to the carpet and the other part wants to run after him. But I’m not the kind of girl to chase after a guy, no matter how badly I want this particular one. And this disease. I’m terrified for him. I have no idea what this means for his future but I do know that we’re stronger together than apart. How can he not see that? He’s so concerned about hurting me later that he doesn’t see how much he’s hurting me now. Still, I don’t know how to save him from this. That all-too-familiar feeling of helplessness creeps over me, circling, making sure I know it’s still there. Apparently I’m not very good at saving people. That’s why when the door clicks shut, I fall to my knees and let the tears flow.
The clock on the wall ticks too loud, reminding me as the minutes go by that he’s not coming back. The smell of the chicken parmesan I couldn’t wait to eat, now makes me nauseous. Still trying to soothe myself, I curl my body inward as I stare blankly at the door, trying to process what just happened. I thought…. I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought—only it matters too much.
I pick myself up off the carpet, wiping my nose and cheeks against my shirt. Padding over to the table and trying to ignore the roses, I blow out the candles and stack the plates, carrying them back into the kitchen. Since my appetite is shot, I cover the food and store it in the fridge.
An abrupt knock on the door startles me. For a moment, I consider not answering it because I’m kind of a mess right now. But maybe it’s Troy, and that would be a good thing.
I leave the plates on the counter and head for the door, doing one more swipe of my face with my short-sleeve. When I open it and see Vance standing there, my pulse races and a tiny seed of hope sprouts in my chest. His expression is completely unreadable and I back up a few paces until he’s inside the house.
The door closes and he leans against it, crossing his arms over his chest. More tears spill onto my skin as he mutters to himself, moving his head from left to right. “You and your freaking Mickey Mouse shirts.” Another shake. “You’re like a f*cking light I can’t look away from.” He takes two steps until he’s standing in front of me, warm breath fanning my cheeks, palm reaching out to cup my chin. His eyes land on mine. “What the hell have you done to me? I walked up and down this damn block for thirty f*cking minutes, and I realized one thing. It’s too late for me to turn away now.”