It’s a wonderful vision of a future that I would manifest for myself if I could.
But I can’t.
Even wishing for something that feels like inviting heartbreak into my life. It’s too good. Too perfect. And if I know anything about life, it’s that nothing good and perfect exists.
I lace my fingers with his.
He brings our interlocked hands to his mouth and presses a kiss to our joined knuckles. “I’m not going to lie to you,” he says, working his fingers back and forth against mine. “I’m nervous about this.”
My heartbeat picks up as I wonder if he’s already second-guessing whatever this is between us.
I can’t blame him if he is. I’m scared too. There’s so much that can go wrong here, so much that’s untested, unproven. We’re taking our history and relationship that’s worked one way and trying to flip it on its head.
But instead of just a friendship on the line, it’ll be my heart now. And I don’t know if I’m fully prepared to sacrifice that.
“Stop it,” he says, pulling me into his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “You’re overthinking everything on a level that only you can achieve.”
“It’s what I do best.”
He smiles against my hair. “Being with you is the easiest thing that I’ve ever done. It’s crazy, Bells. Wild.”
“I know.” I wrap my arms around his waist and tuck my cheek against his chest. “I woke up this morning and couldn’t believe this was real. It feels impossible. But then I sort of took stock of myself and how I felt, and I realized it’s the most natural progression in the world.”
He nods. “I don’t know how this is going to work. Do you?”
I shake my head slowly. “I don’t know, Coy. Can it work?”
“It has to.”
“In what capacity?” I pull away far enough so I can look into his eyes. “I mean, what does this look like for us? Is there an us?”
He looks into the deepest part of my eyes and smirks. “You better fucking believe there’s an us.”
His confidence, something that’s drove me nuts for years, feels different. Instead of being irritating, it makes me feel safe in the strangest way.
“I would never ask you to leave Savannah,” he tells me. “Not with your father being so sick and your friends here. Your life is here. But …” He gulps. “I can’t just walk away from my life in Nashville either. You know?”
His forehead mars as I absorb his statement.
The words rattle around in my chest. I already knew this was true, and this conversation was coming, but to hear the uncertainty about what comes next causes a smidgen of panic to spread through me.
“I know you can’t leave your career,” I tell him softly. “I wouldn’t want you to do that. It would be stupid. But I can’t leave my dad either. I won’t.”
He bites his lip, nodding. “We’ll figure it out.”
I want to figure it out. I want to figure it out as much as I want my next breath. But there are a lot of things that I fear we’re ignoring.
“Is this realistic?” I ask him. “I mean, I’ll be here. You’ll be there. Is it worth it to try to make it work?”
“Do you think we have a choice?”
I snuggle against his chest, his words providing a comfort that I didn’t know I needed. His sweatshirt is soft and smells like him.
“The thought of waking up and having you be gone again … doesn’t even break my heart. It broke before. It … it feels like my heart would be shattered.”
He inhales a deep, ragged breath.
“I’m scared, Coy. I’m scared of this not being feasible. If this can’t work out between us, a part of me thinks that we should just walk away now and preserve our friendship and let it be. It’s better than having to lose you all over again.”
“You don’t have to lose me.”
“You say that now,” I tell him. “But you don’t control everything. I mean, I lost my mother. She didn’t choose that. I’m about to lose my father.” I take in a shaky breath. “I want to be with you so much that I can’t stand it. Being in your arms feels like the one place in the world I should be. But it comes with the possibility of so much pain …”
He pulls me closer and holds me against him. I can hear his heart beat through his shirt. It’s hard and rhythmic and so steady. I wish I could close my eyes and just stay right here forever.
“I know you’re scared,” he says. “And I’m happy you feel comfortable enough to tell me that. But why don’t you look at it the other way? Like instead of the possibility of having your heart broken, you have the possibility of having someone to help you through shit?”
I nod.
He grabs my shoulders and peels me away from him. A slow smile touches his lips.
“I love you, Bellamy,” he whispers.
My eyes go wide as a quick uptake of breath fills my lungs.
“I should have said that to you so many months or even years ago ’cause I’ve loved you since the day I made you eat that taco out of a leaf, mud, and grass,” he says.
I laugh, the memory coming back to me.
Tears fill my eyes.
My brain screams at me that I’m too exposed—that I’ve gone out on a limb for him before, and he’s broken my trust. But as I sort through that emotion and try to rationalize it, I realize it’s not fair to him … or to me.
I know he loves me. I feel it when he touches me, and I see it in his eyes. I’ve never felt like this about anyone, and I’ve never felt like this around anyone either.
But is that enough?
Because I know how the world works. It’s cruel and evil, and just because you love someone, it doesn’t mean they’re yours forever.
He nudges me. “I was kind of hoping you’d say it back.”
I sniffle. “You know that I love you too. I love you so much that it scares the shit out of me.”
Pride ripples across his face. “Let’s agree that this might get complicated and that we’re going to have to take it day by day.”
“And we have to communicate and be honest.”
“And we have to make each other a priority.”
I nod, liking the sound of this. It helps to soothe the vulnerability that rears its ugly head.
“We have to communicate,” I say.
“That's our weakness. We've never communicated well—unless it was with threats,” he says, laughing.
I laugh too.
It almost feels too good to believe, the answer to the manifestations that I didn’t put much faith in.
But the longer he holds me and doesn't rush me and the more things that he whispers into my ear about flights and cell phones and promises of everything that I've ever wanted, I find myself doing the one thing I've always feared more than anything else—I've put my trust in him.
My breathing evens out as soon as I make the decision. I'm without reservations but not without fear. But I figure a little fear is healthy.
“My mom is making meatloaf,” he whispers in my ear.
I laugh out loud. “Your mom makes great meatloaf.”