Page 112 of Fated

How does he know? Can he somehow see my world? Or is it my subconscious dragging Max into this world?

“He’s my friend,” I admit, my mouth dry. “He’s been my friend for a long time. He doesn’t have anything to do with us.”

McCormick stiffens. “I think he has everything to do with us.”

There’s so much hurt rolling off him, so much confusion and pain in his eyes, that I take a step back.

And before I can think, I say, “This isn’t real?—”

“You think I don’t know that? Do you think I haven’t known that for fifteen years? This may not be real, but our life is real. This island. Our family. Our kids. Our life—it’s real. If you don’t want it, you only have to tell me. All you have to say is ‘I don’t want this.’ I’m not holding you here. I love you, but I’m not holding you here. I married you, loving you, knowing this wasn’t real. You?—”

He cuts himself off, turning his face to the sea.

I stare at him, stunned at the lines around his mouth. At the bleak light in his eyes. He stares at the limestone rocks, craggy in the water. At the edge of the rock there’s a lone ironwood, stunted and bowed from the wind but still growing, its roots clinging to the rocks.

Some might think the rock is stronger. But truly, the lone ironwood will work its roots into the stone and crack it open.

I think once, I might have believed my heart was like stone. I didn’t want love. I couldn’t accept love. But something as small as an ironwood tree, something as insignificant as a wildflower, can start to grow, to bloom, and then the rock will crack open and let in sunshine and light.

I step close to Aaron, slowly reaching over and taking his hand. I thread my fingers with his. He takes a shuddering breath but doesn’t pull away.

The warmth of him rolls over me like the sun rising and rolling over the water. I stare out at the sea and let the soothing tide wash away the hurt, the fear—everything I’ve been scared of.

Finally, I say, “I’m here now. With you.”

Aaron turns and looks down at me. The breeze blows, tugging at my cover-up and licking over my skin.

“You’re not the same Becca as last night?”

I shake my head, gripping his hand. “I’m confused about a lot of things. For a long time I never let anyone love me. I’m trying to learn how. I came here thinking you were the one to help me. Remember what you said? You’d stay to help someone you love.”

I see it then. Why there’s a curling of fear still lodged in my chest. Why a prickle of sweat lines my brow. I’m scared he’ll leave me. That even in a dream I’ll be left behind.

“I need you,” I whisper, my throat aching and raw. “From the start. I need you to help me. I kissed him last night because I love him as a friend, because he means a lot to me. But I kiss you because?—”

His stares down at me, his eyes glowing, molten-hot in the sunrise. “Because why?”

I take a tight, aching breath and admit, “Because if I don’t, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. Because when I’m near you I feel sparks and flames, and”—I throw out my hand—“you consume me. I think about you all the time. I want you all the time. Even knowing I can’t have you. I want you. I want you so badly. And I’m terrified, absolutely terrified, that?—”

I cut myself off.

Aaron’s cheeks have tinted red. His gaze scrapes over me, looking into my heart. He steps forward, bringing the scent of sunshine and sea with him. “Terrified of what?”

I shake my head.

“I told you my truths. You tell me yours. Terrified of what?”

I swallow, clench my hands, and then leap into the turbulent waters. “I’m terrified that I love you. That I love you desperately, deeply, and that I can never have you. None of this is real and I can never have you.”

Aaron cracks then. That’s all I can describe it as. The tension, the stiffness lining his shoulders, the protection he’d wrapped around himself. It cracks, breaking away.

He grips me then, picking me up in one swoop. The air rushes around me and my stomach tilts. I gasp and grip his shoulders. Wrap my legs around his middle.

“Fi?” he asks, looking down at me.

My heart pounds, crashing against my ribs. “Yes.”

His mouth hardens. “Why does that damn word make me want you so much? Why does that damn word confuse me, tie me up, make me question everything I know?”

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