Page 80 of A Fighting Chance

“Do you want me to help you to bed?” she asks.

“No,” I say. Of course, I want her to, but I can’t let her. She should go, and I tell her as much with my suddenly icy exterior.

“Gentry, please…”

“Please, don’t,” I beg her, pressing my eyes shut. Her hand covers mine, and I want to cry or rip out my heart and throw it against the wall. I can’t be sure which at this point.

She removes her hand just as quickly as she placed it and I feel her shrink beside me. “You should get some sleep,” she says.

I let my head fall back on the couch and I stare up at the ceiling. “It’s a little difficult,” I say. “Hence the alcohol.”

“Yeah,” she says. She stands, and I hear her walking into the kitchen behind me, followed by the clink of a glass.

I look over my shoulder and watch her pour herself a shot of bourbon. She tilts her head back and downs it. I watch her neck work, the delicate muscles flexing and relaxing. Biting her comes to mind. She likes that.

I sigh too loudly and catch her attention. “You should go,” I say, despite my own desires. No part of me actually wants her to go. I find myself wanting to beg again.

“Okay,” she says. But she steps toward me, hesitating.

“What?” I ask.

“Just one last thing,” she says, standing right in front of me now.

I try to stand but she pushes me back down. Her hand caresses my jaw as she pulls her legs up to straddle me and sits on my lap. My hands find her skin instinctively.

“Just one last kiss,” she says, then she tucks her hair behind her ear and leans close.

Her lips are so close, it wouldn’t take much. I’d just have to lean in a bit.

But she closes her eyes and presses her lips to mine.

I kiss her back, pressing my mouth into hers, devouring this last bit of her she’s offering me. My tongue parts her lips and I bite and suck and lap her up. My hand pushes into her hair and I pull her against me.

If I can’t leave my mark on her heart, I’ll leave it here. She’ll remember the taste of me, the way I kiss her.

Twenty-Seven

Lyla

I wakeup on my last morning here and I’ve never felt so conflicted about anything in my life. When I moved away from this place, there was no hesitation. I never even looked back or gave a thought to who I’d miss or who might miss me. This time feels different.

After spending this time with Harper, I feel closer to her. Seeing Nan and Paw, the fragility of their lives, puts a few things in perspective. I at least need to visit more. And Gentry.

How can you miss someone you were never meant to hold onto?

I spend part of my morning packing the rest of my bags, stuffing all the things I bought yesterday into every open crack I can. The overflow is stuffed into a gym bag I borrow from Harper and promise to mail back to her. While I might have gone a bit overboard on the shopping, I don’t feel guilty about it. I needed the distraction.

I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, looking around the room, taking in all the details. A farewell breakfast waits for me downstairs, but I’m stalling.

Last night, Nan came into my room and lay down on the bed next to me. She tucked my hair behind my ear and pressed her palm to my cheek. She asked me why my heart had been so sad all day. That’s when I lost it. I began to cry right into her hands and told her everything. About Gentry, what he asked, how I’d kissed him one last time the night before. How I sat there holding him on his couch until he fell asleep then left and hadn’t seen or spoken to him since. All she did was hold me—no judgment, no lectures.

When I stopped crying, she asked me about my life in Boston, if it made me as happy as he’d made me these past few weeks. But I couldn’t answer her. I couldn’t bring myself to lie to her or tell myself the truth. So, I started crying again, and she wrapped her arms around me.

She let me fall asleep like that. When I woke up in the middle of the night, she was gone. At first, it alarmed me, but as reality sank in, it made sense. She needed to get back to Paw. Despite his near perfect recovery, she’s still been keeping a sharp eye on him. I’d walked to the window then and looked out over the farm cloaked in the night sky. The moon illuminated the swaying trees in the orchard and the tin roofs on the barns. I stared out over the field toward the cabin. You couldn’t see it from here, it being just over a hill and tucked behind trees. I’d wondered if Gentry was awake before finally turning back to bed. It took me a long time to fall back asleep.

This morning, waking up felt dream-like. I wondered if it was a dream within a dream for a moment. If perhaps I was still asleep, and it wasn’t the day I was supposed to leave. But then my phone went off. When I reached for it, I felt a sudden sense of urgency, like maybe my phone would tell me something I desperately wanted to hear. Or rather, I would hear from the person I was desperate to hear from. But it was only Cora telling me to travel safely.

Now, I look down at my untied running shoes and lean over to remedy them. I know in my heart, I will not hear from Gentry today or see him. I know he will not say goodbye. We’ve already done that in our own way. I broke this, us. Whatever it was, I broke it. Him. Myself. All of the above. I’m not even sure anymore.

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