“I’m leaving.” Her voice quivers.
My head flinches back, her words hitting me with a painful force. I need a better explanation. “You’re leaving Sierra Grande? But the movie…” Her meaning takes hold, and my next words disappear like my smile. “It’s me. You’re leaving me.”
She shakes her head again, this time slower. “You can’t expect me to stay, Warner. We want two different things, and the longer this goes on, the harder it will be. I thought I could handle the pain, but—” Her shoulders curl forward with her small shrug. “I can’t.”
I have to go to her. I need to touch her.
She doesn’t stop me. My hand glides through her hair, cupping the back of her head. The momentum takes us back a few feet, and I cradle her lower back with my arm, buffering her from the edge of the counter.
“Don’t go.” My voice is hoarse, like I’ve been screaming for hours. Or maybe, I’ve been screaming silently for years. “Please, Tenley.”
We’re mere inches apart, and she looks into my eyes. “This isn’t fair to me.”
Shame fills me. She’s not wrong.
“I want things you’re not willing to give, Warner. And I chose to continue with you, knowing how you felt. None of this is your fault. But it’s time.”
“I’m sorry.” In this moment, my apology means more than anything I’ve ever said.
Tenley leans closer. Her soft lips brush mine. I close my eyes. She kisses me harder. I kiss her back, crushing her to me, holding on for dear life.
My hands run over her waist, skimming her shoulders, trailing down her arms. Her skin is blazing hot, rising under my touch, and she moans into my mouth.
“Is this a good idea?” I ask against her.
“No,” she chokes out, but doesn’t stop.
I know it will be the last time, and it heightens every sensation. Into the bedroom we go, her legs wrapped around my waist, as we melt into one another. We fall down onto the bed, holding tighter, fastening like we can capture the liquid we’re made of. We both know that when this is over, we’ll have slipped through the cracks in our fingers. But for now, we get lost.
I lean down, pressing my lips to her neck, inhaling as I taste her, drinking her in. I do not need to commit her to memory. She is already there.
Tenley has never been timid with me, but there’s something new about her now. Raw. Palpable. No second-guessing. No questioning. Her heart leads.
Legs apart, she invites me in. Looking into her eyes, I see it. The beckoning. The beginning of a farewell.
What am I to do except take it? I’ll have her, in any way I can.
I lean forward, line myself up with her, and keep my eyes trained on hers. I’ve never been gentle with her, but I am now. Each moment is measured, ecstasy delivered in cadence.
A goodbye I can control.
And so, I make the most of it. So does Tenley. She grips me, holding on to my hips as I slip into her, and when she comes, she rakes her fingernails across my back. She’s never done this before, and immediately I understand it. She’s marking me, a basic, primal need to brand me as hers. Nail scratches or not, I am Tenley’s. One day they will heal, disappear, and yet, they will be there. A permanent, invisible record of who owns my heart.
We lay breathless for a few minutes. Tenley goes to the bathroom, and when she returns, she gathers her clothes and dresses. I pull on my jeans and sit back down on the bed, watching her. She bends to pick up a bag I hadn’t noticed until now. She straightens and tears roll down her face. My heart twists at the sight, but I don’t dare go to her. It would only prolong the inevitable.
“I am going to tell you this because if I don’t, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. After I say it, don’t follow me. Let me go.” She takes a deep breath and looks me squarely in the eyes, her chin lifted. “I’m in love with you.”
She walks out of the room. The front door closes. Not a slam, but a gentle closing. Much like our time together. In like a lion, out like a lamb.
I sit motionless on the bed, for how long I don’t know. My body feels like it’s been drained of blood, my heart trampled on by the bulls we pulled from pasture. Finally I stand and start moving, my motions on autopilot. I strip the sheets. Place them in the washing machine.
I have all the time in the world, so I wait for them to go through the cycle. I walk around Wyatt’s cabin, searching for traces of Tenley. On the kitchen counter I find a piece of paper, the pen she used beside it.
If you’re ever in LA…
Her address follows. It’s such an anticlimactic ending for an experience that stretched me beyond repair.
I go home. Open a beer. Stand on my front porch and drink it while I stare at the backside of Wyatt’s cabin.
She’s in love with me. This feels too big to wrap my arms around, too enormous to capture. Tenley’s words have formed a fist, and it’s stuck up under my ribs.
I know what this feeling is. Heartbreak.
But it’s new. Not like it was with Anna. That was slow agony. This is sharper. More acute. Like someone has obliterated the rest of my life.
Before you can have a broken heart, you need to have love.
The thought nearly knocks me out. I don’t know why. The signs were all there.
I grab a second beer. Drink it. Sit in my realization. Berate myself.
Knowing is worse. The lights are on and now I can see what a fucking fool I am. I fell in love knowing I was an emotional dead end. Tenley should have everything she wants; all I’ve done is given her a matching broken heart.
31
Tenley
A drop in the bucket. That’s what Tate was compared to Warner.
I feel like a worn-out dishrag.
In time I will feel better, I know that as certainly as I know that Warner will never be in my past. He is woven into the fabric of my soul, and I will carry him as I go.
Calvin has come to stay at the house with me. I’m not worried about my safety, not after whatever magic Wyatt performed to get my underwear back. I just don’t want to be alone. It’s been over a week since I left the Hayden ranch, and I’ve been a terrible roommate.
Calvin steps out on the back porch, a glass of wine in each hand. “You look like shit,” he says, handing me one. “Makeup is clearly doing their job because those dark circles aren’t noticeable when we’re filming.”
“Thank God for that,” I say mockingly.
Calvin grabs a handful of carrots from the vegetable tray between us. I’m eating chips. Fuck the broccoli. “Did today’s sex scene make you want to have actual sex with me?”
I snort. “Yes, your nude-colored ass floss was really doing it for me.”
Calvin snorts back. “About as sexy as your pasties.”
“Some guys probably like them.”
He shrugs. “Not this guy.” He shoves two of my chips into his mouth. When he finishes chewing, he asks, “Do you want to go to a real restaurant and have a glass of wine?”
I prop my feet on the chair opposite me. “Let me guess, The Orchard?”
“Well, yes. Duh. Everything else in this town is barely edible. We should ask the owner if she’ll open up a location in LA.”