Page 85 of When We Are Falling

It’s been a few days since that big argument at my place, and we’re stuck in this uneasy holding pattern, circling each other and pretending things are alright, when we both know for a fact that they’re not. I’ve always been the guy with the answers, the one who can make things right. But this… this is different.

My gaze still on the Tavern, I finally step out of the truck, flowers in hand, the cool evening air wrapping around me, but it does little to clear my thoughts. The vape comes out of mypocket briefly, and I smoke as I walk toward the bar, before pushing the door open, the smell of beer and grilled food hitting me.

Blake’s behind the bar, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, lighting up the room like always. She’s the sun and all the stars, the very center of my universe. If only we could sort ourselves out.

“Hey, you,” she says, coming around the bar. We both hesitate for a beat before she leans in and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Got these for you,” I say, handing the flowers over, trying to sound casual. “They reminded me of you—bright, beautiful. Perfect.”

“Flowers? Again?” She takes the bouquet, her fingers brushing against mine as she does. “They’re lovely, thank you.” Her expression softens for a moment, but there’s still that flicker in her eyes that confirms it—she feels it too: the tension, the things left unsaid. We’re both pretending now, and it’s a lousy act.

“I’m just finishing up,” she says, glancing over her shoulder at the nearly empty bar. A few regulars linger, but it’s clear the night’s winding down. “Won’t be long.”

She sets the flowers on the end of the bar and gets me a beer before going back to work. Her smile slips when she thinks I’m not looking.

“Take your time.” I lean against the bar, nursing a beer that might as well be water, trying not to think about how we’re standing on the edge of something that could break us.

Once everyone’s gone, I help her clean and then Blake locks up the Tavern, the click of the key in the lock echoing in the quiet night. It’s dark now, the boardwalk empty, the sound of small waves lapping against the pier filling the quiet.

She turns to me, the flowers hanging from one hand, and for a moment, we just stand there. The silence between us twists and pulsates, loaded with everything we’re not saying.

“I’ll walk you to your car.” My voice is rougher than I intended. It’s a habit now, walking her to her car every night to make sure David doesn’t make a surprise appearance, and every night I wait for something from her—an invitation, a sign, anything to break this cycle.

We fall into step, walking side by side. Her car is parked just down the street, and we reach it too quickly. She turns to face me, and for a split second, I think she’s going to say something, ask me if she can stay at my place, but instead, she just gives me a small, almost sad smile and steps back to open her car door.

As she steps away, her shoulders tense, a slight hunch as if she’s bracing herself to deal withme. It’s a small detail, but in that instant, I can see the extent to which she’s emotionally distancing herself, building those walls around her heart even higher, even stronger than before.

And it hits me: all the small gestures I’ve made have been pointless because the stakes are just too damned high, and the rift between us is too wide. No potted plant or bouquet is going to bridge the gap that’s grown between us.

But what could possibly be big enough to make her stay, to make her see that I’m not trying to control her, but to love her the way she needs?

As the thought forms, it’s immediately chased by another: the fear that a big gesture could be seen as another attempt to control her, and that I could finally push her away for good. The thoughts are paralyzing. Whatever I do next, it doesn’t just need to be big. It needs to beperfect.

“Thanks,” she says softly, her hand lingering on the door handle. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Of course. And anytime.”

My heart screams at me to do something, to grab her in my arms and spin around until the world fades and it’s just the two of us, to tell her I’m sorry, that I can’t stand what’s happened to us. But I don’t. Because my head prevails for once, and I know I need to figure out the exact right thing to do, because this might be my last shot to fight for her.

So I just stand there, my hands in my pockets, trying to act like I’m okay with the way things are. She kisses me on the lips, almost chaste, then opens her car door and slips inside, the interior light casting a harsh light on her face, making her no less beautiful. For a moment, I catch her eyes, and the pain there nearly undoes me. But she looks away, pulling the door shut.

“Goodnight.” She flutters her fingers, her voice barely audible through the closed window.

“Goodnight.” But she’s already starting the engine, the hum of the car filling the silence between us.

Watching as she drives away, the tail lights disappearing into the night, a memory floods back—us lying on the beach, her head resting on my shoulder, both of us feeling like we could take on the world. It was effortless then, so easy to be in sync. The thought of losing that, of losing her, makes everything inside so tight and sore. I can’t let it end like this.

I stand there for a while, the street empty around me, before turning and walking back to my truck.

The next day I wake up in bed alone, the sheets cold next to me. I drag myself out of bed and grab my vape from the nightstand, before letting Bandit out and taking a seat on the back porch.

I promised myself I’d find the right way to fix this, but now, in the harsh light of day, the path forward feels more uncertain than ever. Every idea feels weak, insufficient. The opposite ofperfect.

A light breeze rustles through the tall trees that line my yard. Taking a long drag, the nicotine hits my system, but even that doesn’t help. Not today.

Love isn’t supposed to be this hard, is it? I used to think I had everything figured out. Keep it casual, don’t get too close. But then Blake came crashing into my life, turning everything upside down. And now I’m questioning everything. My sanity, my choices, my ability to keep her in my life.

I take another drag, staring out at the neat expanse of grass, thinking. The sun’s higher now. Another drag, trying to clear my head, but nothing comes. No grand ideas, no brilliant solutions. Just a growing sense of dread. I’m running out of time—the clock’s ticking down, each second bringing us closer to the point of no return.

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