Page 65 of Cross My Heart

“No.” I shake my head, untangling him from me. “No.”

He stumbles a step back at the tone in my voice, and I do too. It sounds final. Like I’ll never again give him another chance, and even I know it’s a lie. But I can tell that he can’t differentiate right now, and I want to clarify, but I don’t. Instead, I turn around and walk away.

I stop halfway to the car and look over my shoulder at him, just to find him staring back at me. And because I’m weak, I consider dropping all pretenses and going back to him. I also consider forgiving him and getting it over with. But I don’t. Instead, I decide to be strong for myself and leave.

The problem is that no matter where I go, I can’t escape him.

All roads lead back to him, and I’m desperate to get there.

The house isdark when I open my eyes, the only light coming from the television. I can’t believe I fell asleep watching it. I stretch my arms over my head, just to feel the heavy weight ofsomeoneon my lap. Tyler wasn’t even home when I fell asleep, he was at work. But now he’s here, on me. And he’s not even stirring.

I lift my phone up from beside me to look at the time, and it’s three in the morning. I sigh as I use my flashlight app and point the light toward the ceiling so I can get a better look. Tyler’s head is positioned on my lap, his curls a dark halo on my light-wash jeans, and his lips are parted as he breathes in steadily. I want to feel the anger that enveloped me at the cemetery, but right now, with him this vulnerable, I can’t summon it. All I know is that I need to get myself out of this situation as soon as possible, for the sake of my broken heart.

For just one weak moment, I stare at his face. I look at his straight, narrow nose, the deep cupid’s bow that leads to the most kissable fucking lips I’ve ever had the privilege of tasting. The cleft in his chin. His curly brown hair. He has the prettiest hair, and the darkness of it is a contrast to his fair skin. He looks like a fucking doll. Just the right amount of beautiful and masculine. God, he’s so fucking beautiful it hurts.

Trying to get up from under him, I slightly lift his head from my lap. He immediately stirs, flipping over to face me and hugging my waist. I suck in a sharp breath, and his woodsy scent envelops me. “Tyler.” I shake him slightly, and his eyes open. So fucking beautiful it steals my breath away.

“What is it?” he asks groggily.

“You should probably move,” I tell him softly.

“Why?” he groans, “I’m comfortable.”

“Ty—”

“Play with my hair,” he breathes.

“No.”

“No?” Ty pouts, and it’s as adorable as it is annoying. “Please, Noah.”

I roll my eyes.

For one split second, I think of shoving him off me. But one look into his eyes has me abandoning that thought quickly. In a moment of weakness, I let my hand travel to his soft curls. My hand shakes as my fingers tangle in his hair, and my longing for him hits me square in the chest. I’ve craved him and obsessed over him for sixteen years, and just when I thought the tears had dried, I found out they hadn’t. Maybe I’ll die from all this pining. It would be a mercy.

Because I have a shred of dignity left, I withdraw my hand and set it on the couch right next to my hip. But instead of closing his eyes, Tyler just stares at me. He licks his lips, and like magnets, my eyes follow the movement.

“Are you okay, Noah?” he asks softly, “Like really?”

“Yeah.” I lie. “I’m fine.” The truth is, I’ll probably never be fine again. Knowing my friends are dead is fucking me up. Not being able to go to their funerals fucked me up. And not remembering is making everything worse.

“I can’t tell if you’re serious,” he replies, and I narrow my eyes at him.

“Tyler, I'm fine.”

“Well, I’m not,” he snaps, sitting up and turning toward me. Suddenly he’s straddling my lap, and I tense.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Please hear me out,” he says, “I need to get this off my chest.” I nod and he continues, “When those men came here to let me know you’d been shot…I thought for sure my heart was going to give out on me.”

“Don’t do this,” I whisper. “Please, Ty.”

“I can’t.” He shakes his head. “I can’t pretend like there’s nothing between us.”

“You pretended just fine when you didn’t leave her.”

His hands come to my face, cupping my cheeks, and I close my eyes. “Look at me,” he whispers. “Please, baby.”

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