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FORTY-TWO

ELI

Sarah and I just arrived at the church to meet with Becca about the wedding. It’s only twelve thirty and it’s already been a long day. I don’t think I want the wedding to happen at all, which makes me a piece of shit, especially after using Sarah to fuck the feelings I have for Becca away. It was an asshole thing to do, and I’ve been nauseous over it ever since, but it also showed me clarity because I know I need to let her go. She deserves someone who can love her fully, and goddamn I wish that man were me. Coming back here has pulled up the deepest parts of my longing, and I know I’ll never feel for Sarah the things I do for Becca.

I don’t want to feel them.

I would give anything not to feel them.

But five years ago they dug into my skin and settled into my bones, becoming an integral part of me.

I don’t think I’ll ever forgive Becca for what she’s done, for the way she shattered me to pieces. Regardless, it wouldn’t be fair to live a lie with someone else even if it means I end up alone.

We get to Preacher Sanger’s office and the door is open, so we walk in. He’s nowhere in sight, but Becca is sitting behind his oak desk, hands resting lightly on the top, her gaze unfocused.

I expect her to startle when she sees us, but she’s so lost in her thoughts she doesn’t even acknowledge we’ve arrived. I tilt my head, the base of my spine tingling in warning. Usually, less than a second in her presence and I’m ready to explode, but right now there’s no buzz. No electricity flowing off her skin and soaking into my soul.

Something’s off.

“Rebecca.” I use her full name for a reason. To see if there’s a spark. A reaction. I’m searching for that fire, the one only she can provide, but I don’t find it, and dread sneaks through my chest, pooling in my stomach. She’s always been my flame, bright with her glow and dangerous in her beauty. But the closer the light, the bigger the shadow, and I was a fool to find comfort in her shade.

I’m desperate in its absence.

My voice jolts her out of her daze, and she musters up a small smile. “Hi, y’all. Come on in.”

Even her voice is flat.

“Everything okay?” Sarah asks, walking forward and sitting.

I follow but hesitate, my hands wrapping around the top of the chair as I stand behind it. I angle my head trying to catch Becca’s eyes.

She avoids my stare.

“You okay doing it in here?” I remember the last time when she couldn’t leave the room fast enough.

She lifts her shoulders. “Here is fine. This won’t take long anyway.”

Sarah’s eyebrow raises. “Oh? I’m excited to talk about what our options are?—”

“I’m leavin’,” Becca interrupts.

My heart slingshots against my ribs. “What do you mean you’re leaving ?” I bite out.

She keeps her eyes firmly on Sarah, not sparing me a glance.

“I’m movin’. It’s a spur-of-the-moment thing, but since I won’t be here after this weekend, obviously, I won’t be able to help y’all with your weddin’.” She wraps a strand of hair around her finger.

My gut clamps so tight, it makes me nauseous.

Sarah smiles big and wide, and honestly, she looks a little joyful for someone whose wedding planner is abandoning them before the actual wedding. “Oh, how exciting! Where are you moving to?”

Becca opens her mouth, but a man’s voice interrupts.

“Don, I—oh, I’m sorry, y’all. I’m lookin’ for the preacher.”

I twist in my seat, recognizing his auburn locks immediately. They’re identical to his son’s, who I played ball with in high school.

My stomach sinks. Great. I’d done a decent job so far of staying out of the way of the people who like to reminisce on my glory days, but I guess all good things must come to an end.

His brown eyes widen and he walks farther in the room, coming to stand beside my chair. “Elliot Carson. I heard you were back in town, but I didn’t buy it for a second. Can’t believe I’m seein’ you right here, in the flesh. How ya doin’, son?”

“Mr. Mazey, good to see you. I’m doing great, thanks. How’s Pete?”

Mr. Mazey chuckles, running a hand down his face. “Petey’s the same as he’s always been…tryin’ to put his mama in an early grave.”

I smile. That was definitely the truth back in high school. It warms my insides to know that not everything has turned upside down over the years. That even though things have changed for me, other things are still the same.

“This is my fiancée, Sarah,” I introduce, the word fiancée sticking to the roof of my mouth like old taffy. “Sarah, this is Mr. Mazey. I played ball with his son.”

I feel Becca’s stare on the back of my neck, and I grip the arms of the chair to resist turning around and catching her eyes.

“Fiancée, huh? Y’all meet at that fancy college of yours? We follow all your games, you know. Lotta winnin’ goin’ on down there.”

Sarah titters. “We sure did. I started working with him his very first year. Been there for almost all of his one hundred and thirty-five wins.” She grins at me, and I smile back, but there’s a pinch in my gut at the way the conversation is heading. I don’t want to talk about basketball. Not here. Not with Mr. Mazey. And definitely not with Becca.

“One hundred thirty-seven.”

Becca’s voice cuts through the air and slams into my chest, pushing the breath from my lungs in a whoosh. My head snaps in her direction so fast my neck pulls.

“I’m sorry?” Sarah asks.

Becca shakes her head, glancing at the desk. When she looks back up, her eyes collide with mine and lock on. Finally. That fire I was searching for roars to life, blistering me from the inside out.

She swallows, her throat bobbing with the motion. “You said he’s won one hundred thirty-five games. It’s one hundred thirty-seven.”

“Oh?” Sarah looks to me.

I’m sure she wants me to defend her, and maybe if I were a better fiancé, I would.

But I can’t.

Because Becca’s right.

My ribs bruise from the pounding of my heart. I can hardly catch my breath, let alone voice a thought. My mind whirls at the insinuation of her knowing my record.

Of what that means.

“Well.” Mr. Mazey shifts in place, clearly uncomfortable. “All right then. It was nice to see you, Elliot.” He looks to Becca. “Will you let your daddy know I stopped by?”

Becca nods, the red of her hair falling over her shoulders and highlighting the flush of her cheeks.

It’s silent after he leaves. Sarah’s hand claws into my thigh, her eyes narrowed on Becca.

“You know,” Sarah says, “since you won’t be here to help with the wedding, I don’t think there’s any reason for us to stick around.” She turns to me. “Ready to go, honey?”

No.

I want to stay. I want to lock Becca in this room and keep her hostage until I purge her from my fucking soul and finally gain some closure. I need it more now than I ever have before. But I don’t think I’ll get the answers I deserve, even if I ask. So I shake off my need and let Sarah lead me out the door.

* * *

Driving home, I’m a nervous wreck, my hands tapping out an unsteady rhythm on the wheel.

“What’s wrong?” Sarah peeks at me from the passenger seat.

Sighing, I run my fingers through my hair. “Can we talk when we get to the house?”

She stiffens, her fingers twisting in her lap. “We can talk now.”

I cringe. “I don’t wanna do this in the car.”

“Well, I don’t think I want to stay in this car and wonder what has you so twisted up.”

I glance at her before staring back at the road, clenching my jaw. My stomach tosses, but I breathe through the upheaval.

“Sarah, I really don’t?—”

“Just say it.” She squeezes her eyes tight, her head angling toward the window.

My heart falters, and suddenly I’m not sure I can. Checking my rearview mirror, I pull to the side of the road, turning on the hazards and facing her.

“Why do you love me?”

Her nose scrunches. “What?”

“Why do you love me?” I repeat. “Because I’ll tell you…” I pause, swallowing around the regret that’s pouring from my heart and scratching up my throat. “I haven’t been good to you. Not really.”

She reaches out her hand, rubbing up and down my forearm. “Yes, you have.”

I shake my head, briefly closing my eyes against the sting. Fuck, this is hard. “You know…I’ve been floating through life for as long as I can remember, only skimming the surface. Never delving deep, never wanting to. And then you came along. And you were this…balm to wounds I didn’t even know were still aching.”

She smiles, her eyes glassy.

My palm taps my chest. “You numbed my pain, and you never asked for more. And I’m so, so damn grateful for that, Sarah. I love you for that.” The pit in my stomach grows. “But I’ve been wracking my brain, and I can’t think of a single goddamn thing I’ve done that would make you love me.”

She squeezes my arm. “I just do, Eli. Isn’t that enough?”

My heart dips. “I don’t know, Sarah. Don’t you think that’s an issue? The fact that you can’t even say what it is you love? How do you know it’s real? How do I?”

She sucks in a breath, her hand leaving my arm and covering her mouth. “Are you saying you don’t know if you really love me?”

“I love you. I do, and I could watch you walk down that aisle, knowing I’d be content for the rest of my life.”

She huffs out a laugh, a tear escaping from the corner of her eye. “ Content. How romantic.”

“I’m trying to be honest. Please, Sarah. Please , just be honest. To yourself and to me. Don’t we owe each other that?”

She bites on her lips, staring out the windshield.

My leg bounces under the wheel.

“I guess…” She exhales through her nose, her jaw tight. “I guess you’re safe to me.”

My brows jump. I wasn’t expecting her to say that.

“I’ve had that… feeling . That wildness that makes you feel like you’ll die if you lose it. Like you’ll never breathe again.” She stops, blowing out a breath, tears dripping off her chin. “It’s a drug, and it never ends well. It hurts. You don’t make me hurt, Eli.” Her eyes meet mine, and in this moment I know.

This is it.

We’ve been blanketing the pain from our pasts with the other person, settling for the warmth and pretending it’s enough.

I breathe deeply, the lump in my chest growing until it clogs my throat. “I love you.”

She hiccups, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I love you, too.”

My nostrils flare, the salt of my tears teasing my lips. “But I’m not in love with you,” I whisper.

Her eyes flutter closed, and she nods. “I know.”

The second I say the words, there’s a sense of peace. A lightness from the relief of finally having an honest conversation. Of acknowledging what we’ve both always known, even when we chose to not see it.

When we pull into the driveway, she grips my arm. “Can we… Can I…” She huffs out a breath, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Will you wait to tell everyone? I’d still like to go to the party tonight, just…let me leave this place with a little dignity. I’ll find a flight back home tomorrow. If you just give me a little time, I can be out of your house. I?—”

She chokes on the words, tears cascading down her face, showing me more emotion than all the years we’ve been together. I realize in this moment that we’ve been living as acquaintances, accepting each other for the facade we portray, not loving each other for who we truly are.

The pads of my thumbs wipe under her eyes and I smile softly. I rest my forehead on hers, and her hands fly up, gripping the back of my neck.

“I’m so sorry, Sarah.”

“I’m sorry, too,” she rasps.

We stay locked in our embrace for long, tortured seconds, the air pregnant with sorrow of a fractured friendship that should never have been more.

Sarah is my drug, the one I use to blunt the pain.

But I’m ready to feel.