by Tara Wyatt
“Please don’t give up on us,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I know I fucked up. I know.”
“I don’t think it’s fair for you to ask me not to give up on us when I’m not even sure what we are anymore. Everything’s different now.”
“Because I lied to you about Sophia.”
“Because I’m in love with someone who keeps me locked out with secrets and lies, Max!” Anger flared in her eyes. “Because I would’ve trusted you with my life and you betrayed that trust. It’s cost me the sense of security I had with you. It’s made me question my instincts and my feelings and every single thing you’ve ever said—or not said—to me.”
“So you don’t believe that I love you?”
Her expression softened and she shook her head. “No, Max. I believe that you love me. I do. But I asked you about the necklace and you could’ve told me then. When you asked about my cancer, I was open with you, even though I don’t like talking about it. So…everything feels unbalanced, and feeling that way while knowing that you love me makes it hurt even more. I feel like I’m in over my head and I need time and space to figure everything out.”
He felt as though time had stopped. That the seconds had ceased to pass the moment Willa had told him she needed time to decide if she saw a future for them or not.
Feeling as though his feet were encased in concrete, he forced himself to step out into the hallway. “Okay,” he managed around the lump wedged in his throat. “Take some time. I understand.” His eyes burned and he rubbed a hand over his face. “I do love you, Willa.”
Her chest hitched and she nodded jerkily. “I know.”
And then she closed the door.
20
Willa spent the rest of the day in a fog, alternating between crying, feeling as though her chest were splitting in two, and anger, wanting to destroy something. But bigger than the sadness and the anger was a feeling of deep loss. She felt adrift, as though she’d had a map of where she was headed, but the map had turned out to be nothing but lies, and now she was stranded in a dark forest of sadness and confusion and doubt, and she didn’t know how to get out.
She hated being so in her feelings, hated feeling so sorry for herself, so she tried to distract herself with work, but work only made her think of Max and then she was back to square one, back in that dark forest. So she tried to distract herself with video games, but video games only made her think of Max. She thought about going for a walk in Central Park, but there were memories of Max there, too. She’d tried to lose herself in a book, but she was still reading the fantasy novel she’d borrowed from him, the one he’d said was his favorite.
She’d entwined her life so neatly and fully with his that untangling it felt impossible. Everything reminded her of him. And she didn’t want to think about him right now.
So she’d done some yoga and had a shower and signed up for extra volunteer shifts at the hospital. Then she’d eaten an entire bag of Doritos and had a nap. When she’d woken up, she’d walked to the wine store on the corner to pick up a couple bottles of her favorite pinot grigio to help her get through the next little while. Then she’d rearranged all of the furniture in her bedroom.
All of these mundane little activities to try to forget how much she was hurting. How telling Max she needed some space was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. How reading that article had made her feel as though an enormous gaping wound had opened up in her chest, not just because of the personal implications about her being manipulative and conniving, but because in an instant, her view of her relationship with Max had been shattered.
And it hurt. So goddamn much.
She felt as though she’d been driving along, sun shining and her favorite song on the radio when she’d been sideswiped, done a 360 and ended up in the ditch, wondering what the hell had just happened.
She felt like a fool for trusting him so easily, despite the rocky start they’d had. But after she’d found out that he was Mr. 23, after he’d told her he was in love with her, she’d been nothing but putty in his hands. And maybe that had blinded her to the fact that he wasn’t letting her in. That they certainly weren’t on equal footing when it came to big, important things like trust and vulnerability.
Once Dori had come and gone, only stopping in to change her clothes before going out with some friends from work for dinner and bowling, Willa had eaten some soup and then opened the bottle of wine she’d put in the fridge to chill. Glass in hand, she settled herself on the couch and sent Lauren a text message, hoping she’d be free to talk.
Willa: Hey, are you around and able to talk for a bit? Something’s happened and I could use a friend.
Lauren responded almost immediately.
Lauren: Calling you right now.
Willa’s phone started vibrating and she swiped her finger across the screen to answer Lauren’s call.
“Hey,” she said, her voice coming out like sandpaper.
“Hey. What’s going on?”
“Oh. I thought maybe you knew, if maybe Max had told Theo…” Her breath hitched in her chest and she paused, giving herself a moment to get her rampaging emotions under control.
“No, I don’t think he’s talked to Max in a few days, at least. What happened?” Lauren’s voice was warm and full of concern, soothing Willa from the other side of the country.
She spent the next several minutes filling Lauren in on everything—what the article had said, that she’d asked Max about the necklace and he’d lied right to her face, that she’d told him she needed some space to think everything through, and how much she was hurting.
“I love him, Lauren, and I want a future with him, but what if he never lets me in? What if I stay with him, because I love him, and I spend the rest of my life on the outside looking in?”
“What did he say about all of this?”
“He apologized for lying and said that he’d only done it to protect me, meaning he clearly never intended to share this huge event from his past with me. While he was here, I gave him chance after chance to actually open up and talk about it, to let me in, and he didn’t. He just kept apologizing and explaining why he’d done it.” Her fingers went to the pendant around her neck, the one Max had given her. She traced the outline of the stones, hating that the beautiful gift felt tainted now.
“I’m so sorry, babe. I can’t even imagine how it must’ve felt to read that.”
“I was totally blindsided. But the actual article isn’t the worst part. It’s that even after the lie came out, he still didn’t let me in. He just wanted forgiveness and for us to move past this like it hadn’t happened. He doesn’t understand that if this is going to work, I need him to be open with me. I need all of him. He can’t hold me at arm’s length while I give him every single part of me. It makes me feel like the entire relationship is unbalanced and now I’m questioning other things too.”
“Like what?”
“The accuracy of how I see our relationship. Maybe it’s more to me than it is to him, given the different levels of honesty we’ve got going on here. Maybe I just got so far in over my head that I wasn’t able to see things clearly anymore.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” said Lauren gently. “Regardless of what he didn’t tell you, how you saw your relationship, how you feel—or felt—is valid and hasn’t changed.”
“I don’t know what to do. I love him, and I want to be with him, but I’m not sure how to move past this. He lied to me, Lauren. He lied right to my face.”
“He did, and that was shitty of him. But, just thinking about Max’s side here, I don’t think he lied for any nefarious reasons. What happened to his girlfriend had to have been massively traumatic for him. It’d be difficult for anyone to talk about, and Max isn’t exactly the caring and sharing type. And I do think his heart was in the right place, although he shouldn’t have lied.”
“But that’s just my point. If he can’t talk to me about difficult things, maybe we’re at different places
in this relationship, and I don’t know what to do with that.”
“I don’t think it’s that Max is deliberately shutting you out, or wanting to keep you at a distance. These guys…they have damage. They have scars. He may not know how to open up to you.”
“What if he never figures that out?”
“I don’t know.” Lauren sighed. “I don’t know. I’m so sorry, babe. This sucks.”
Willa brushed away the fresh tear sliding down her cheek, amazed she still had some in her after all of the crying she’d done today. “I love him. I thought I was going to marry him. I’ve spent the past month being happier than I’ve ever been in my life, and I feel like everything’s just so much more uncertain and nebulous than it was yesterday.”
“Not to make this about me, but I do know where you’re coming from. When I overheard Theo tell his cousin Noah that he was single after we’d been together for weeks—yeah, we hadn’t put a label on it, but come on. We were dating—I felt like I’d been hit with a bus. But in that moment, it also forced me to get really clear about what I wanted and what I needed, both from him and from myself. I knew I was in love with him and I knew I wanted a future with him. But I needed him to commit and not freak out at the idea of a relationship. I needed to know that he was choosing me. Us. I needed him to decide that we were bigger than his baggage. And I needed to forgive him and accept him in order to have a future with him.”
Willa’s stomach burned, simmering with jealousy because everyone could see that Lauren and Theo had been destined to be together. Everyone had believed that Theo would eventually get his head out of his ass, realize he loved her, and fight for her. And he had, and now they were planning their wedding.
“What if he’d never gotten there, though? What if he’d never been willing to take that leap and commit, to choose you?”
“Then as much as it would’ve sucked and as painful as it would’ve been, I would’ve had my answer.”
“When he was here, I gave Max so many chances to let me in and tell me his side of the story. To open up in the way that I need. And he didn’t.”
“Did you ask him to?”
“Well…” She picked at a loose thread on the throw pillow in her lap. “No. I didn’t want to have to ask.”
Lauren laughed softly, not at Willa but in commiseration. “Ah. Well, these Prescott men have a lot of positive attributes, but sometimes you really have to spell things out for them. Especially anything to do with emotions, their own and other people’s.”
Willa bit her lip, turning over Lauren’s words. She wanted Max to open up, but was it fair of her to expect him to know what she needed without telling him? Or was that just setting everyone up for disappointment with hidden expectations and blind attempts at meeting each other’s needs?
“You’ve asked for some time and space to think everything over, and I think that was smart. You know that Max isn’t going anywhere. He loves you, and you love him. Think about what you need. What you want. What’s non-negotiable for you. And then, when you have your answers, tell him. What he does with that information is up to him, and will show you if the future you want is possible.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said quietly. “That I’ll ask him for a level of vulnerability he just doesn’t know how to give.”
“And if that happens, we’ll all be here for you, Willa.” Lauren sighed. “I remember just how hurt I was when I thought things weren’t going to work out with Theo. God, hurt isn’t even a big enough word. I was devastated. I felt like my entire world didn’t make sense anymore. These Prescotts…they’re easy on the eyes but hell on the heart, sometimes.”
Willa was pretty sure that truer words had never been spoken. They talked for a while longer and when they hung up and her wine glass was empty, she moved from the couch to her bedroom, sprawling out on the bed and staring at the ceiling.
Talking to Lauren had helped. Willa’s thoughts were slightly less scattered and she didn’t feel quite so raw. He’d lied, but about a traumatic event that would be difficult for anyone to talk about. That didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of what she needed. It didn’t mean he was, either, though.
She loved Max. She wanted a future with him, but that future had to include trust and honesty. Openness and vulnerability.
And she just didn’t know if he could give it to her.
Sweat ran down Max’s bare chest in rivulets, coating his skin. His hair was damp and stuck to his temples. He’d pushed himself past the point of exhaustion, and it still wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to silence the voices in his head that whispered over and over again that he’d hurt Willa. That he was a liar. That he wasn’t good enough for her. Too damaged. Too broken.
He wiped sweat out of his eyes with the back of his arm and then tapped his boxing gloves together. “Let’s go another round,” he barked out to his cousin Noah, who was equally shirtless and equally sweaty.
He’d taken Noah up on his invite of coming out to Jersey City to the boxing gym he co-owned with several other firefighters from his station. He’d found himself wanting the company and wanting the exercise. Wanting the excuse to pummel the shit out of something or someone. So here he was, in Jersey, boxing with Noah while Noah’s younger brother Hudson watched impassively, his heavily tattooed arms crossed over his chest.
“You sure? I’m pretty gassed,” said Noah, brushing a stray lock of sweaty hair out of his eyes.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
It had been five days since Willa had closed the door on him, and he hadn’t heard from her. She’d taken a two-week vacation from work, and he honestly didn’t know if she’d ever be back. The Times article had been embarrassing for her, humiliating really, and he wouldn’t blame her if she was looking for a job somewhere else. The one spot of good news was that thanks to his legal team, the Times had printed a retraction and apology on the front page.
As he sparred with Noah, fresh anger sparked to life inside of him, his entire body flushing with heat that had nothing to do with boxing. He was an asshole for lying to Willa. He was an asshole for hurting her, for even putting her in a position where she’d been susceptible to being hurt.
But, as he landed a jab on Noah’s jaw, he realized that a couple of months ago, he would’ve been angry at himself for even getting involved with her in the first place, knowing he should’ve stayed far away from her. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to regret a single second with Willa, and he wasn’t sure if that meant he’d grown, or if he was just a selfish bastard.
Selfish bastard. The words echoed through his brain, spurring fresh pain and he took it out on Noah, throwing punch after punch until his arms screamed and his vision blurred with sweat and he felt as though his lungs might give out.
“Hey! Hey, hey, hey!” Noah yelled and shoved him back, hard. “Easy, Max. Jesus.”
His chest heaved as he stepped back, leaning against the ropes. “Sorry. Fuck. Sorry.”
Five days. Five days of space and silence and it was killing him. He felt like he was being eaten alive by the frustrated, helpless desperation inside him.
He might lose Willa. He might lose the love of his life. And he didn’t know what he’d do with himself if that happened.
But she’d asked for space. So that’s what he was giving her while praying with every single fiber of his being that she was able to see how much he loved her and give them another chance. He knew he’d fucked up and hurt her. He knew she had every right to feel the way she did. He also knew that if she let him back into her life, he’d never lie to her again. Ever. He wished he’d never lied to her in the first place, but it was too late for that.
But more than that, he wished that the kind of openness and trust she deserved were easy for him. Because he saw now that lying to her wasn’t just a betrayal. Wasn’t just a deception. In the moment, he hadn’t trusted her enough to show her his scars and believe—know—she wouldn’t run. He’d demonstrated a lack of faith in her love for him,
and he’d broken her heart by doing so.
He wondered if he should be worried at how easily the lie had come. Yeah, he’d felt guilty, but in the moment, he hadn’t hesitated to lie to her. He’d dove into it, headfirst. Maybe that was a remnant from having grown up in a household filled with lies. Filled with secrets and betrayals and words that hurt. He didn’t know.
He didn’t know if he was a good person who’d made a mistake, or a rotten person who’d managed to be good for a few months. That was the worst part.
Because as much as he wanted Willa back in his life, deep down, he was scared. Scared he’d never be good enough or whole enough for her. Scared that his scars would continue to cause damage and hurt her.
But you felt whole when you were with her. For the first time in your entire fucking life, you felt whole and happy and good.
Great. Now the voices in his head were contradicting themselves. He was officially losing it.
“You good?” asked Noah, squinting at him with his gloved hands on his hips.
Max pushed off of the ropes and forced himself back into the center of the ring. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
But the exertion didn’t work to dull the pain burning through him or quiet the voices in his head, and soon enough, the anger and fear and hurt all started to resurface, culminating in a hard punch to Noah’s stomach.
He huffed out a breath and shoved Max back, leaning forward with his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “You know I didn’t write that article, right?” Noah asked, looking up at him, a grimace on his face.
Just then, the door to the gym opened, closing behind Lucian as he strode in. “Good thing, because the woman who wrote that article won’t be writing anything for a very, very long time.”
Max whirled to face his brother, who’d stopped just short of the ring. “What do you mean?” His legal team had demanded that Kelly Palmer be fired, but the newspaper had refused.
