Page 98 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

She reaches out her hand, rubbing up and down my forearm. “Yes, you have.”

I shake my head, briefly closing my eyes against the sting. Fuck, this is hard. “You know… I’ve been floating through life for as long as I can remember, only skimming the surface. Never delving deep, never wanting to. And then you came along. And you were this… balm to wounds I didn’t even know were still aching.”

She smiles, her eyes glassy.

My palm taps my chest. “You numbed my pain, and you never asked for more. And I’m so, so damn grateful for that, Sarah. I love you for that.” The pit in my stomach grows. “But I’ve been wracking my brain, and I can’t think of a single goddamn thing I’ve done that would make you love me.”

She squeezes my arm. “I just do, Eli. Isn’t that enough?”

My nostrils flare against the dip of my heart. “I don’t know, Sarah. Don’t you think that’s an issue? The fact that you can’t even say what it is you love? How do you know it’s real? How do I?”

She sucks in a breath, her hand leaving my arm and covering her mouth. “Are you saying you don’t know if you really love me?”

“I love you. I do, and I could watch you walk down that aisle, knowing I’d be content for the rest of my life.”

She huffs out a laugh, a tear escaping from the corner of her eye. “Content. How romantic.”

“I’m trying to be honest. Please, Sarah. Please, just be honest. To yourself and to me. Don’t we owe each other that?”

She bites on her lips, staring out of the windshield. My leg bounces under the wheel.

“I guess…” She exhales through her nose, her jaw tight. “I guess you’re safe to me.”

My brows jump. I wasn’t expecting her to say that.

“I’ve had that... feeling. That craziness that makes you feel like you’ll die if you lose it. Like you’ll never breathe again.” She stops, blowing out a breath, tears dripping off her chin. “It’s a drug, and it never ends well. It hurts. You don’t make me hurt, Eli.” Her eyes meet mine, and in this moment I know.

This is it.

We’ve been blanketing the hurts from our past with each other, settling for the warmth and pretending it’s enough.

I breathe deeply, the lump in my chest growing until it clogs my throat. “I love you.”

She hiccups, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I love you, too.”

My nostrils flare, the salt of my tears teasing my lips. “But I’m not in love with you,” I whisper.

Her eyes flutter closed, and she nods. “I know.”

The second I say the words, there’s a sense of peace. A lightness from the relief of finally having an honest conversation. Of acknowledging what we’ve both always known, even when we chose to be blind.

When we pull into the driveway, she grips my arm. “Can we… Can I…” she huffs out a breath, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Will you wait to tell everyone? I’d still like to go to the party tonight, just… let me leave this place with a little dignity. I’ll find a flight back home tomorrow. If you just give me a little time, I can be out of your house, I—”

She chokes on the words, tears cascading down her face, showing me more emotion than all the years we’ve been together. I realize in this moment that we’ve been living as acquaintances, accepting each other for the facade we portray, not loving each other for who we truly are.

I smile softly, the pads of my thumbs wiping under her eyes. I rest my forehead on hers, and her hands fly up, gripping the back of my neck.

“I’m so sorry, Sarah.”

“I’m sorry, too,” she rasps.

We stay locked in our embrace for long, tortured seconds, the air pregnant with sorrow of a fractured friendship that should never have been more.

Sarah is my drug, the one I use to blunt the pain.

But I’m ready to feel.

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