“They’ll get over it.” His eyes search mine, and I shake my head, losing my battle as more warm tears fall.
“You know you gave me…,” I breathe through the pain, “you gave me a love story, a real love story, even if it doesn’t have the ending I was hoping for.”
“It doesn’t have to end.”
“It does,” I reason with a shaky voice. “It does, Lance. And it’s okay. I’m okay. We’re both going to be okay. I’ll still feel the same way about you, even years from now. I know it. I know myself. I probably won’t ever stop loving you. And who knows,” I say as his eyes glaze over, “maybe one day the timing will be right, and my father won’t hate us both, and we can try again.”
“Harper, listen to me. The secret is out. It’s not going back in.”
“My dad can’t even look at me right now. I can’t stay there, not now.”
“Then stay with me. He’ll get over it. You can’t be a daddy’s girl forever.”
“But I wanted to,” I admit as I push away more tears. “And I want to be your girl too. But it’s not going to work out that way. At least not right now.”
“You are my girl.”
“In every way. Always. You have my heart. Please don’t make this any harder on me. I have to go.”
“Bullshit. This will all blow over, you’ll see. This isn’t for the best; this is you running away.”
“No, this is me using this shitshow as an excuse to go after what I want and to grant you the freedom to do the same. I’m standing in the way of things for you right now, and I’m not going to stay here and watch you throw it all away for me.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“No, it’s the truth. You’re so close, Lance. We betrayed him for months and rubbed his nose in it. He’s not going to give you the game time you deserve if we continue to parade around like what we did didn’t hurt him. He’s good at holding a grudge, even against his own daughter. He may come around with me, but there’s no time for you.”
“Fuck this, I’ll go talk to him. I’ll apologize.”
“It won’t work, and you know it.” I palm his chest. “You take the field. I’m going to go take the stage.” I push up on my toes, and he pulls me to him, holding me tightly. I feel every word he’s not saying in his reluctance to let go. “Harper, please, fuck, don’t do this.”
“I deserve my shot too. Now is just as good of a time as any.” I feel his nod in my neck. “But I do love you,” I whisper before I press my lips to his jaw. “The crazy big kind.” It’s agony already, the separation I feel when he finally releases me. “Don’t be too much of a stranger, okay?”
He opens his mouth, and I hold up my hand.
“Lance, stop,” I demand, the last of my strength leaving me. “Don’t use this as a convenient time to return sentiment or you’ll ruin it for me.”
Thumbing away my tears, he bends capturing my mouth, kissing me, his tongue diving deep, his body radiating the pain that I feel, his mammoth embrace just enough comfort to keep me standing when he pulls away.
“I’m not sorry,” he says hoarsely, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, “fuck them all. I would do it again in a heartbeat.”
I muster up a smile and step away. “Me too.”
“Text me when you make it there, okay?”
With that, I get into my car, adjust my mirror, back away, and cry past two state lines.
Lance
Three weeks later
Sitting on my bed, I open the box to reveal a new pair of high tops in my size, a black silk boxing robe embroidered with Lance “The Blanket” Prescott and matching trunks. She had to have spent a fortune on it. Chest aching, I shoot off a text.
Lance: It’s perfect, thank you. I fucking love it.
Harper: Yay, you got it. So happy you love it.
I love you. I want to reply, but I type out something else entirely.
Lance: Did you get my gift?
Harper: Not yet.
Lance: Should be there tomorrow. Merry Christmas.
Harper: Merry Christmas. You know you didn’t have to. I can’t wait to see you in that robe.
Lance: I miss you.
Harper: I miss you too.
Lance: Come back to me.
Harper: It wasn’t you that I left. It’s opportunity that I’m chasing. Please understand.
Lance: I do. I’m trying to. It just sucks. It’s a cruel world without you in it.
Harper: I love you. Always. Make me proud, Lance. Keep fighting.
Lance: Give me a reason to.
I swallow, knowing I won’t be able to move on unless I ask.
Lance: Are you happy?
Harper: Not completely, no.
Lance: It’s me you’re missing.
Harper: Every single day.
Lance: Wait for me.
Harper: Neither of us can make those promises.
Lance: I can.
Harper: Please don’t.
Hurt flares up when I think of how easily she left me standing there with my chest slashed. Even if there were tears, I’ll never understand how she could just drive away. We meant more than that. At least to me.
Lance: I guess you’ve already chosen.
Harper: I love you.
Lance: Maybe I don’t believe you.
Harper: You don’t mean that.
Harper: Lance?
Harper: Lance, please talk to me.
Lance: Take care, Harper.
The next day I spend twenty minutes coming up with an apology only to send it and have it bounce back. She blocked me. Not out of spite, but to give us a clean break. She’s unwilling to commit to me, and I can’t have it any other way. I’ll go crazy seeking it from her, and she knows it. She knows this is the only way. She always told me her dreams would come before any man, I should have believed her. I just never thought she’d discard me for them so easily.
Anger like I’ve never known boils through my veins. Another raw deal. Another punch life has decided to throw to break me down.
Regret eats me alive as I think of all I should’ve said, could’ve given her.
I could have loved her so much better, given her so much more if she’d given me a chance.
She’s already blocking me out of her life. It’s only been weeks, and I’m already a part of her past. I know she thinks this is the best decision for both of us, for now. But the tie she’s so boldly cut already feels like a molecular change in my makeup. It’s a change I don’t want, can’t stand to deal with. I feel like I’ve been ripped in half by loyalty and ambition.
Loyalty won on my part, and our mutual ambition just severed us. But the decision was made for me and for that I can’t forgive her.
But she would never let me choose. She would never make me.
I should be grateful. Instead, I’m pissed.
Sentence passed. I’m serving day one. My conviction in knowing I never truly got to fight.
My bedroom is now a tomb.
I have no way to go after her, not the means or the way. There are no magic words to change her mind. All I have left is this vessel I dwell in to turn things around, to change my fate, to save myself.