The thought of her feeling dead inside for the next seven years killed me. Even worse than that was the idea she had that it had been a mistake to fall in love with me. The pain in my chest grew intense, and I found it difficult to breathe.
“Look at me, baby,” I urged, my voice strained.
Scarlet tipped her chin up to look at me. I brought my hand to the side of her face, stroked my thumb along her cheek, and asserted, “We were not a mistake. Not one single moment of our time together has been wasted. You need to dig deep, Scarlet. When it gets hard, because I can promise you it’s going to get hard over the next seven years, dig deep. Remember every good moment we’ve had over these last three years together. There’s enough there, and you know there is, to get you through this. And seven years from now, when you call me because you’ve graduated from medical school, I promise to answer your call.”
“Why can’t I have you now?” she asked. “Please, Ryker, don’t do this to us.”
My fingers slid into her hair and cradled the back of her head. “I wish it were different, but they don’t like me,” I started. “I get it. I don’t have what they have. I can’t afford the four-year degree and med school, Scarlet. But I’m determined to be with you. So, we play their game and beat them at it. If they’re going to take away your education if we stay together, then give them what they want. In the end, you’ll have saved your future, and we’ll be together.”
“I don’t want to give you up,” she cried. “I don’t want to give you up and risk someone else—”
I dropped my mouth to hers and kissed her quiet. And for those few moments, we both poured every emotion into our kiss. I could feel the weight of Scarlet’s sorrow. I could feel the desperation and despair. I hoped she felt the love I had for her.
When I pulled back, I promised, “There will be nobody else, Scarlet. Never in my life will I give my heart to another woman. Every part of me, all of it, is only yours for the rest of my life. Do you understand me? It’s just you. Forever.”
Another tear fell, sliding back into her hair.
“What about me?” I asked her when she made no move to speak.
Confusion washed over her. “What?”
“Do I get your promise? Is every part of you mine forever?” I questioned her.
Her lips quivered, and she rasped, “I promise.”
Then she buried her face in my chest and broke down sobbing again.
We held on to each other for a long time, the minutes passing by bringing us closer to our temporary end.
When I thought she’d shed all her tears, I loosened my hold on her.
“I should go now,” I suggested.
Her arms tightened around me as she burrowed herself deeper into my chest. I gave her a few extra minutes but knew my resolve was waning. I had to get out of here before I did something that would ruin everything that stood in front of her.
Eventually, and begrudgingly, Scarlet and I both picked ourselves up off the floor. We had barely gotten to standing when she flung herself at me. “I miss you already,” she said.
“I know, sweetheart. I feel the same way,” I assured her.
We kissed each other again, and I knew part of it was Scarlet doing anything she could to keep me there longer. But as the time ticked by, it became harder and harder to say goodbye to her. So, as much as I didn’t want to do it, I pulled back and insisted, “I have to go now.”
We walked together toward the front door, Scarlet’s hand holding on to mine like it was her oxygen supply. Like if she let go, she’d never breathe again.
I couldn’t say I didn’t get it. I was doing the same thing.
Stopping at the front door, I turned back to her and said, “I love you, Scarlet. Forever.”
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and I hated seeing her struggle. I knew if she had to say the words back to me, she’d lose it again. So, even though it killed me not to hear them from her, I didn’t want to make this any harder for her than it already was.
I let go of her hand and reached for the doorknob.
Just before I opened it, she called, “Ryker?”
“Yeah?”
“If I miss you, can I call you?” she asked.
I shook my head. She’d call me all the time if that were the case.
Disappointment and hurt flooded her face. “Never?” she rasped.
I shook my head again.
“What about once a year? Please. On our birthday,” she begged.
Letting go of the doorknob, I turned fully toward her and framed her face with my hands. “No, Scarlet. If you call me before the seven years have passed, I won’t answer. And because I’ll be too tempted to answer if you call again, I’ll change my number. I don’t want to lose that connection with you, so promise me you won’t call me until you graduate from medical school.”
“Ryker…” She trailed off, tears welling in her eyes.
“Promise me, Scarlet,” I ordered, my emotions getting the best of me. Feeling the lump in my throat grow larger and larger by the second, I rasped, “The next time you call, I need to know that I never have to say goodbye to you again.”
Tears filled my eyes. One escaped and slid down my cheek.
“Please, baby. Please promise me,” I begged.
“Okay, Ryker. I promise you I won’t call.”
“Seven years, Scarlet,” I reminded her. “We can do it.”
“Seven years,” she whispered.
I gave her one last kiss, pulled back just a touch, and said softly, “I love you.”
Sniffling, she breathed, “I love you, too.”
With that, I let her go and walked out.
And it was the biggest mistake of my life.
Because seven years later, her call never came.
Fourteen Years Later
“Fuck.”
“Are those from that Vette that was here last week?”
I looked up and saw my co-worker, Knox, standing there. Knox was the lead fabricator at LT Motorsports. I was a mechanic. And right now, I was beginning to wonder if I’d made a mistake in choosing this career path.
Of course, this was the norm. At least once every two weeks or so, I questioned my sanity. Nobody in their right mind would choose to deal with diagnostic problems like this, especially not when the problem was fixed a week ago.
I gathered up the fuel injectors I’d just tested on the flow bench and answered, “Yeah. They’re all clogged. Again.”
“But this is the third time it’s been here, isn’t it?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yep. Which means this is going to be a nightmare to deal with,” I started. “The first time, after I replaced the injectors, the car was back to normal. The owner picked it up, drove it about a hundred miles, and brought it back on a flatbed. The same thing happened the second time, so I added a filter in line with the fuel system to catch anything gumming up the injectors and clogging them. Now, it’s back with the same fucking problem.”
“You think there’s shit in the fuel tank?” he asked, giving me a questioning look.
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “And in just about any other car, I wouldn’t mind having to pull it out. But this car? It’s a nightmare. I’m looking at eight to ten hours to do this. I’ve got to pull apart the entire back of the car. The rear suspension, the trans…” I trailed off.