Page 123 of Fated

“I’m sorry,” I say, tilting my chin up, wishing I could take him in my arms, kiss him, love him so hard and so much that I could pull him and Amy and Sean from this dream and right back to Geneva.

“I wanted to tell you, thank you. After tonight I won’t see you again.”

“Becca—”

“No. I’m Fi. I won’t see you. So I wanted to tell you, thank you. You let me love you, and you made it so I could accept your love. I’ve never had that before. You made my life infinitely better, and even if you never get to see it, know that I’ll be grateful to you for the rest of my life. For the rest of forever. I won’t ever forget what you’ve done for me.”

“Fi,” he says, shaking his head. Then he pulls me against him and wraps his arms around me. The warmth of him surrounds me, the sea and the salt and the need. “You’re talking like you’re leaving tomorrow. Like you’ll never see me again. I have until Christmas to convince you to stay with me.”

I shake my head, burying my face against his chest, trying to memorize the feeling of him holding me. “No. I won’t be here. I’ll be gone.”

“You mean you won’t be Fi anymore. You’ll go back to the Becca you’ve always been?”

“Yes,” I whisper, acknowledging the truth of what will happen when I stop coming back.

Except perhaps when I stop dreaming this entire world will end. Although I don’t want to think like that. I’d prefer to think this island and all the people here will keep on living even without me.

“Why?” Aaron asks, his hands running down the sides of my ribs, curving over my back. “Why?”

I shake my head, molding myself to him. “Because. I can’t stay on this island.”

His hands pause, lying still on the curve of my spine. “No matter which Becca you are then, you can’t stay here.”

“No.”

“And if I leave with you? If me and Amy and Sean—if we all leave with you? What if we all leave? We could go to Geneva like you wanted. We could go to all the places we talked about.”

I close my eyes, wishing that what he’s asking could come true. “I can’t,” I tell him. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

There isn’t any way to explain it. Only that I can’t.

I look up at him then and I see all the pain there, the hurt, the raw vulnerability. I see a mirror of myself when I was left by someone I love.

My mum said she had to leave me and I told her I understood. She said I was the one thing in her entire life she regretted leaving behind. And now here I am, and I find that the leaving feels just as horrible as the being left.

Aaron studies my expression, and at the change in me his eyes shutter. He hides his vulnerability and tucks away his hurt. And he says, “I told you if someone I loved betrayed me, I wouldn’t say something I’d regret out of anger. That I’d hold my words.” A muscle in his jaw ticks, and then he looks down at me and says, “But I didn’t realize I’d have to say something or risk regret.”

His hand cups my cheek. The tension tightens and snaps between us, as loud as the waves crashing over the beach.

I nod, licking my lips as his eyes linger on my mouth, his gaze as firm as a touch. “Tell me.”

“I won’t beg anymore,” he says. “I won’t crawl after you. But you promised me that you’d come into the water after me if I needed you. Now I’ll give you that promise too. If you ever need me, if you ever find yourself awake at night wanting me, I’ll be here. I’ll be here loving you.”

My heart thuds hollowly in my chest. “You said you’d let me go.”

“I lied. I’ll be here, my hand held out to you. All you have to do is take it.”

“I love you,” I say, knowing I’ll regret it if I don’t.

Then stay, his eyes say. But he nods and then asks, “Can I kiss you?”

The words sound like goodbye.

And his kiss, it tastes like goodbye. It tastes like an ocean wave crashing over me and washing away everything that came before—everything but him—and then he’s gone too.

And when I walk out the door of the cottage, I walk back into my life in Geneva.

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