Ugly Love: A Novel(71)

I turn around and face the ledge again. He’s still in the same position, pressed against me, but it’s different now. He’s stiff. Guarded. Defensive.

I don’t know anything about him. I don’t know a single thing about his family, and he’s already met mine. I don’t know a single thing about his past, but he’s slept in my childhood bed. I don’t know what subjects I bring up or what actions I take that will cause him to close off, but I’ve got nothing to hide from him.

He sees me for exactly who I am.

I don’t see him at all.

I quickly bring a hand up and wipe away a tear that somehow just escaped down my cheek. The absolute last thing I want is for him to see me cry. As much as I know I’m too far gone to continue treating this as casual sex, I’m also too far gone to stop it. I’m terrified to lose him for good, so I sell myself short and take what I can from him, even though I know I deserve better.

Miles places a hand on my shoulder and turns me around to face him. When I choose to stare down at the water instead, he hooks a finger under my chin and makes me look up at him. I allow him to tilt my face up to his, but I don’t make eye contact. I look up and to the right, attempting to blink back the tears.

“I’m sorry.”

I don’t even know what he’s apologizing for. I don’t even know if he knows what he’s apologizing for. But we both know my tears have everything to do with him, so he’s more than likely just apologizing for that simple reason alone. Because he knows he’s incapable of giving me what I want.

He stops making me look at him and instead pulls me to his chest. I rest my ear against his heart, and he rests his chin on top of my head.

“Do you think we should stop?” he asks quietly. His voice is fearful, like he’s hoping my answer is no, yet he feels compelled to ask me anyway.

“No,” I whisper.

He sighs heavily. It sounds like it could be a sigh of relief, but I’m not sure. “If I ask you something, will you be honest with me?”

I shrug, because there’s no way I’m answering that with a yes until I hear his question first.

“Are you still doing this with me because you think I’ll change my mind? Because you think there’s a chance I’ll fall in love with you?”

That’s the only reason I’m still doing this, Miles.

I don’t say that out loud, though. I don’t say anything.

“Because I can’t, Tate. I just . . .” His voice fades away, and he grows quiet. I analyze his words and the fact that he said I can’t rather than I won’t. I want to ask him why he can’t. Is he scared? Is it because I’m not right for him? Is he afraid he’ll break my heart? I don’t ask him, because none of his answers to these questions would reassure me. None of these scenarios is reason enough to absolutely deny a heart happiness.

Which is why I don’t question him, because I feel like maybe I’m not prepared for the truth. Maybe I’m underestimating whatever it was that happened in his past to make him this way. Because something happened. Something I more than likely couldn’t relate to, even if I found out what it was. Something that stole the spirit right out of him, just like Cap said.

His arms pull me in tighter, and the hold he has on me speaks volumes. It’s more than an embrace. More than a hug. He’s holding me like he’s terrified I’d drown if he were to release me.

“Tate,” he whispers. “I know I’ll regret saying this, but I want you to hear it.” He pulls back just enough for his lips to meet my hair, then grips me tightly again. “If I were capable of loving someone . . . it would be you.” My heart cracks with his words, and I feel the hope seep in and leak right back out again. “But I’m not capable. So if it’s too hard—”

“It’s not,” I interrupt, doing whatever I can to stop him from ending this. I somehow find it in me to look him in the eyes and tell the best lie I’ve ever told in my whole life. “I like things exactly how they are.”

He knows I’m lying. I can see the doubt in his concerned eyes, but he nods anyway. I try to get his mind off of it before he sees right through me. I wrap my arms loosely around his neck, but his attention is pulled to the door, which is now opening. I turn, too, and see Cap slowly shuffling his way onto the rooftop deck. He walks toward the switch on the wall that turns off the jets to the hot tub. He flips it off and slowly turns back toward the door but not before noticing us out of the corner of his eye. He turns and faces us full on, standing no more than five feet away.

“That you, Tate?” he says, squinting.

“It’s me,” I say, still in the same position with Miles.

“Hmm,” Cap says, taking us both in. “Anyone ever told the two of you that you make a pretty darn good-looking couple?”

I wince, because I know this isn’t the best moment for Miles to hear that, especially after the awkward conversation we just had. I also know what Cap is up to with that comment.

“We’ll shut the lights off when we leave, Cap,” Miles says, ignoring Cap’s question and redirecting the conversation.

Cap narrows his eyes at him, shakes his head as though he’s disappointed, and begins to turn back to the door. “It was a rhetorical question anyway,” he mumbles. I see his hand go up to his forehead, and he salutes the air in front of him. “Good night, Tate,” he says loudly.