It was impossible in that moment to not picture it, to not wonder what it could have been like, what we could have been like.
And it knifed me open, right down the middle, spilling my guts with irreparable damage.
I sucked in a harsh breath, running faster, as if that would help me. But as soon as I took three more steps, my mind was wandering again — this time, to the rehearsal dinner, where I’d sat at the restaurant with Morgan and her family, and I’d been a slave to the fantasy of what it would be like to really be a part of it.
To be Jasmine Wagner.
To be Morgan’s sister-in-law.
To be Tyler’s wife.
I couldn’t escape the whirlwind of what ifs as I sat there, eating and laughing, listening to Morgan tell Oliver stories about me and her and Tyler growing up. Robert teased me. Amanda offered me the last cheddar roll in the bread basket, because she knew they were my favorite. And Tyler sat across from me, his hand around a glass of scotch, a lazy, content smile on his face as he listened and chimed in on our childhood stories.
It didn’t matter that he didn’t talk directly to me. It seemed he was doing the same thing I was, trying to put distance between us, to block out the same flurry of thoughts I had.
Still, I loved the way he spoke about us. I loved the way my heart swelled at the memories. I loved the way I felt being back here, back with them.
Back with him.
And the way he smoothed his thumbs over my wrists under that arch…
My body moved faster, as if to shake that thought away before I could latch onto it, but still, my mind raced. It was a fog impossible to fight through, but more than anything and at the root of it all — I hated myself.
Because all it had taken to show my true, dark, and fucked-up morals was one trip back home.
And one thing I knew for sure, one truth swimming low and acidic in my gut, was that I had to call Jacob tomorrow.
And I had to break up with him.
It didn’t matter that Tyler had a girlfriend, that our time had passed, that we would never be together. It didn’t matter that, surely, it was being here that was messing with my mind, and had I stayed in California, none of this would have happened.
All that did matter was that I realized, in painful clarity, that I was not okay.
I was not ready to date someone as seriously as I was dating Jacob. I didn’t deserve his love, his time, his doting attention. I didn’t know what I wanted, or who I was, or where I was going because I’d spent the last seven years running from where I’d been.
It was the wake-up call akin to a bucket of ice cold water to the face, and I couldn’t run from it, no matter how I tried.
My nose stung with the urge to cry, but I fought against it, picking up my speed, instead. My muscles ached in protest, and I knew I was pushing too hard. I knew I’d be sore as fuck tomorrow, but I couldn’t not run. I couldn’t not put my body in pain and fatigue.
It was my only chance at escaping everything inside my head.
It was almost eleven when I’d left the beach house, so I knew it had to be past midnight when I finally made my way back. I slowed from a run to a jog the closer I got to the back steps that led up from the beach, and I stopped at the foot of the stairs, hanging my hands on my hips and looking out over the dark water as I tried to catch my breath.
The moon was just a sliver, most of the lights from the beach houses turned down, and everything was quiet. June was shoulder season for the Cape, so it wasn’t yet crawling with tourists like little ants. And in that silent, dark moment on the beach, I felt the universe inside me shift.
And I knew things would never be the same.
“A little late for a run, don’t you think?”
I didn’t jump, didn’t so much as blink or shiver at the sound of Tyler’s voice. I hadn’t seen him sitting in the middle of the stairs like a shadow, but perhaps I’d felt him. Perhaps I’d sensed him, or always known he’d be there — like no matter how far or fast I ran, it’d always be him I’d come back to.
A heavy sigh left my chest, and I turned, finding him in the darkness. And I didn’t answer. I just shrugged.
Tyler rose slowly, making his way down the stairs toward where I stood on the beach below. He leaned against the banister, cautiously watching me, like I was a wild hare and one quick movement would send me running.
“You okay?”
Something of a laugh left my nose at that, and then my eyes welled with tears. I shook my head, casting my gaze over the dark water again. “No,” I whispered, and the fight was useless against the first two tears that fell hot down my cheeks. “I am far from okay.”
Tyler pushed off the banister at once, his arms reaching for me, but I backed away like he was poison, nearly falling in the process. He stopped, holding up his hands as I crossed my arms over my middle.
“Don’t,” I warned, shaking my head.
“Come here.”
“Please, don’t touch me.”
“How can I not?” he asked, stepping toward me with purpose. “You’re hurting, and it’s killing me, and I don’t know how to fix it other than to pull you into me and try to shield you from whatever it is that’s bringing you pain.”
“It’s you!”
The words were too loud, too raw, and more tears flooded my eyes as they lingered between us.
I sniffed, wiping my face and sucking in a cold breath. “Can’t you see that?” I asked, quiet this time, my voice something of a whimper or a plea. “It’s you who brings me pain. It’s you who is killing me. It’s you, and us,” I added, motioning between us. “It’s this thing that never was, but always is, that never will be and will never not be.”
The air around us stilled, even the soft distant sound of the waves quieting, as if the entire world decided to stop spinning for this one specific moment.
And Tyler looked like I’d just socked him in the jaw.
I shook my head, face contorting with emotion. “I have tried to forget you, Tyler. For seven long years, I ran from you, and from that day, and from all those years we had together. I thought I’d grown. I thought I’d left you behind. I thought I’d succeeded in forgetting you, in giving the fantasy of us up.” I choked on a sob, covering my mouth with one hand as my eyes blurred again. “But all it took was one trip. One time coming back here — to this place, to you — and it’s so painfully clear that I wasn’t even close.”
“Jaz…”
“I just want to hate you,” I said, desperation splitting my chest open, and in the next breath, Tyler’s arms were around me.
I shoved at his chest, trying to put distance between us, but he held me tighter. I shook my head and cried and pushed, but it was no use.
His arms around me were unyielding, pressing, tight and secure and warm.
And when I finally gave in, collapsing into him, another sob racking my chest, I submitted to every painful, shameful, horrendous emotion.
“Please,” I begged, fisting my hands in his shirt to hold him closer but still trying to shove him away. “Please, just make me hate you.”
Tyler’s knuckles found my chin, and he tilted it until I was staring up at him through wet lashes. Just the sight of the pain in his eyes made another surge of emotion assault my chest, and I winced, rolling my lips to fight off more tears.