Clean Break

by Erin McLellan

  I took a deep breath. “Okay. What truth are you going to tell me, Alex?”

  “You led Connor on, and it was a dick move. He deserved better than whatever the hell happened between you two. You both did. And if you screw this up with him, I hope you regret it until the day you die. I’ll text you his address.”

  He ended the call, then waited twenty torturous minutes to send me the address.

  I stared at it. I couldn’t believe Connor had moved without telling me.

  Why wouldn’t he tell me? This changed everything.

  Didn’t it?

  It took me twelve minutes to get to his apartment building, five minutes to find a parking space, and two to ride the elevator up to his floor.

  It didn’t occur to me to call Connor before barging in on his new life until I stepped on his welcome mat.

  All the hair on my body seemed to be standing on end. I knocked on his door, and pressed my hand to my chest, trying to stem the slamming of my heart.

  CONNOR

  “Travis.”

  My voice was breathless and not at all in control. I hadn’t checked the peephole before opening the door because I’d expected it to be my neighbor, Victor. He was coming by to relieve me of some packing boxes before he went to the recycling center.

  Never in a million years had I anticipated Travis. He was wearing cutoff jean shorts and his hair was longer on top than the last time I’d seen him. He had his glasses on.

  He was fucking gorgeous.

  We stared at each other. The silence between us buzzed in my ears. My brain filled it with all the awkward moments between us, all the horrible things we’d each said.

  I’d imagined this moment a million times, but normally we fell into each other’s arms. Travis never looked like he was about to puke in any of my daydreams.

  “Fu-uck,” he said, drawing out the word. “Why are you—what—how are—I don’t understand. Why didn’t you—”

  “Travis,” I said again when he seemed incapable of finishing a sentence.

  “You live here,” he finally managed. He shook his head, like he was telling me no, no, no. Then he dropped the keys in his hand.

  “Travis, are you—”

  “Stop saying my fucking name.”

  “Okay.”

  God, I wanted to reach for him, but that was definitely not allowed. We hadn’t spoken in months.

  How the hell did he know where I lived?

  He scrubbed his hands over his face and asked, “Why are you here?”

  It was a funny question considering he was the one who’d showed up at my apartment unannounced.

  “I work in the city for a company called Farming the Future.”

  He laughed. It sounded a little hysterical. “What?”

  My neighbor opened his door, only to see our awkward showdown. Victor pulled up abruptly. “I’ll come back later,” he said, and I waved at him in thanks. He retreated back into his apartment.

  “Your neighbor is pretty. Of course he is. Shit.”

  “He’s married,” I said, for no reason at all.

  Travis’s chest was heaving, his breaths uneven. “What happened to the farm? I don’t understand. Is your family okay?”

  He paced away from my open door. Once he turned back toward me, I said, “My family is fine. Do you want to come in?”

  He shook his head again. That rejection cut.

  Then his chin trembled. Everything recalibrated in my brain. Maybe he wasn’t here to hurt me again. I didn’t know what was going on with him, but I’d never seen him show emotion like this. It killed me.

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “I wasn’t happy. Staying in Elkville wasn’t what I wanted. I want to make my own life, forge my own path. Experience the world outside Elkville, Oklahoma. Dr. Greer connected me with Farming the Future. I talked to my parents and sister, and we changed our plans a bit. Now I’m here.”

  “Awesome. Good for you.” He pressed his fingers to his forehead, then glanced around the hallway as if seeing it for the first time. “I think I’m gonna go.” He turned on his heels and started toward the stairwell.

  “Travis. Why are you here?” There was too much heat in my voice. I didn’t care. How dare he leave like that?

  He whipped back around. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’d moved to Oklahoma City? It only took me twelve minutes to get here from my apartment. I didn’t speed. I could be here in eight. We live so close to each other, and you didn’t tell me. I don’t understand.” Tears welled in his eyes. “I don’t understand. I love you. And—and it didn’t work because you were going to be in Elkville forever and now you’re not and you didn’t tell me. I don’t get it.”

  “What?”

  God help me—I laughed.

  I couldn’t believe that he had the gall to be mad at me about this. I’d tried to talk to him once about me moving, about me changing my plans. He’d shut me down faster than a faulty computer. He’d been uninterested.

  I’d thought he’d been uninterested.

  Giddiness bubbled through me, and I laughed again.

  He loves me.

  “Fuck you, Connor,” he choked out.

  This time he didn’t turn around when I said his name. He rushed down the stairwell like a ghost was on his heels.

  “Shit.” I grabbed my keys off the counter and his off the cement floor of the hallway. Then I ran after him. I didn’t even have shoes on.

  I caught sight of him turning a corner outside my building and sprinted after him. I had to vault a sticky puddle of goo seeping out of a garbage can on the sidewalk because I was barefoot. That was how much he meant to me.

  If he’d slow down for one goddamn second, I’d tell him that.

  I found him leaning up against his car door, his face in his hands. He glanced up when I was ten feet away. He was openly crying.

  For our whole weird relationship, he’d kept his emotions locked tight behind ironclad walls. The walls were crumbling right before my eyes, and I couldn’t have been happier.

  He loves me.

  “You forgot these,” I said and tossed him his keys.

  He caught them in his fist. “Thanks.” He wiped his cheeks with his shoulders.

  “You forgot something else too, Travis.”

  He eyed me warily. “What?”

  “Me.”

  I took several steps until I was all up in his personal space. I cupped his face and used my thumbs to brush away his tears.

  “Come inside with me.”

  “I don’t—I feel so confused right now.”

  “Back at ya, sweetheart. Let me take care of you. Come on.”

  He sniffled. The tears in his eyes deepened the beautiful brown irises and made his long eyelashes clump. It took me back suddenly. Took me straight to the night we’d had anal sex for the first time. To the way his eyes had sparkled after I spanked him with a paddle.

  That dam in my heart, the one directly connected to my mouth, was going to be breeched. I could feel it. All the words I longed to say to him were going to tumble out. Again. And maybe this time he’d listen.

  I gathered him off his car and into my arms. He buried his face in my neck but crossed his arms against his own chest, like a shield.

  “It’s okay, Trav. It’s going to be okay.”

  He shook his head, so I held him closer. Clutched him harder.

  “Come inside.”

  The cement was hot under my feet, and I had to shift from foot to foot to keep from burning my skin.

  He must have felt my movement, because he said, “You’re not wearing shoes.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ve always liked your feet.”

  I laughed at that, but the sound seemed to make him cry harder.

  I’d had enough of this. We were starting to draw looks. I unwrapped my arms and shuffled him toward my apartment.

  “Let’s go. We’re going to settle this, once and for all.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

 
TRAVIS

  Connor smelled like hay—earthy and fresh and perfect. As if he’d been out in a pasture all day. Did he get to work in a field in his new job? My brain was moving slow, but it latched on to his scent as if it were a lifeline.

  He led me back into his apartment. It was trendy with chic cement floors, an open floor plan, a beautiful kitchen, and a perfect view of the Oklahoma City skyline.

  He dumped me onto a cozy leather sofa and got me a glass of water and some tissues—I was pretty sure I’d gotten snot on his shoulder earlier. Then he sat in a matching leather chair-and-a-half.

  Too far away. He was too far away, and the distance was going to make me cry again.

  What was wrong with me?

  I tried to suck in a steadying breath, but it got stuck in my throat. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried like this. Even that day in the fourth-floor bathroom, I’d cried manful tears. Repressed tears.

  Today, I was like a faucet that Connor had turned on full blast.

  He watched me struggle and didn’t say a fucking word. He seemed almost pleased with himself.

  Our conversation in the parking lot was a bit hazy in my mind, but I was pretty sure I’d told him I loved his toes. And he’d said he’d take care of me.

  I didn’t need anyone to take care of me. I was an adult. I’d met hundreds of people over the summer with problems much bigger than a college breakup, but my emotions were dialed up to eleven. This felt like the end of the world.

  Fuck this. I might not need him to take care of me, but I wanted it. I loved it.

  I stood from the couch and crawled into his lap in the chair.

  He gasped and caught me. I placed my head on his shoulder. My favorite spot. This was where I belonged. And where he belonged too. I was going to make him see that.

  “Okay,” he said. “Okay.” One of his hands soothed my back, trailing up and down my spine, and the other gripped my knee.

  Okay.

  I used to hate how he said that, but today it was comfort in one word.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you’d moved away from Elkville?” I asked.

  My body was shaking. What if I’d blown it, and Connor was about to let me down easy? What if he was dating someone else?

  What if he was comforting me because he was nice and we had a history?

  “I didn’t think it would matter. Didn’t think it would change anything,” he said.

  “Why?” The word came out like a moan. How could he think it wouldn’t matter?

  “Travis.” He lifted a hand to my chin and pulled my face from his neck, forcing me to meet his eyes. “You basically said you didn’t love me, remember? You said I wanted things you didn’t want, like your feelings weren’t as strong as mine.”

  “And you believed me?”

  “Of course I believed you. You’re a straightforward person, and you’ve never lied to me. Why wouldn’t I believe—”

  I covered his lips with my thumb, stopping his words.

  “Wrong. I am not straightforward at all. Our whole relationship was an exercise in hiding. I was so scared of my feelings for you. I was so heartbroken that I’d fallen in love with someone who I couldn’t have a future with.”

  “We could have made it work. I tried to tell you. I wanted to make it work. You didn’t.”

  I stared into his hazel eyes—eyes that were full of suspicion. I’d hurt him so much.

  “Connor, I lied! I didn’t think you’d ever leave your family farm.”

  “Well, how the fuck was I supposed to know that?” He raked his hands through his dark red hair, messing it all up. A sunray shafted through the large, floor-to-ceiling window, gilding his hair, making it sparkle like fire.

  Ah, God. I’d missed him.

  “I wanted it to work, but didn’t think it was possible,” I said. “You were going to be stuck in Elkville. I didn’t think you’d end up in Oklahoma City three months later. I was trying to protect myself. And you.”

  My mom had told me that this heartbreak would ease with time, that it felt so horrible because I was young and sensitive. She knew a lot about failed relationships as a divorce attorney. But I knew in my heart that it felt horrible because it had been wrong. It had been wrong to be without him. But I’d thought I had no choice without one of us sacrificing our future.

  I started to cry again. Fuck.

  He sighed, almost like he was aggravated. Or upset.

  I tried to scramble off his lap, but he latched his arms back around me.

  “You’re allowed to cry, sweetheart,” he whispered, his mouth close to my ear. “I know it hurts. I’ve cried a lot in the last few months.”

  That only made my waterworks worse.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you, and that I lied to you. I didn’t think we had a chance in hell, and my career . . . I’m not . . . it’s important to me.”

  His lips trailed up to my temple where he nudged my glasses with his nose, and his affection, his tenderness, felt unreal. It felt undeserved.

  “You did the right thing,” he said. “We’re twenty-two and are making career plans that will affect us for the rest of our lives. Those aren’t decisions that should necessarily be made with anyone else in mind, unless it’s right for both people. I believe that with my whole heart. I was making my decision based on my family—their expectations and their goals—not my own, and it was a mistake. I’d never want you to make the same mistake.”

  I nodded, and his stubble scratched my cheek, causing me to shiver. He wrapped his arms tighter around me.

  “Do you like your new job?” I asked.

  “Yeah. It’s interesting with tons of opportunities to work with different people. I’m good at it. It’s a regional organization too, with offices all over. Dallas, Kansas City, Omaha, St. Louis. Lots of options.”

  My heart started jumping double Dutch in my chest cavity.

  Was he trying to tell me what I thought he was trying to tell me? That he wasn’t tied down? That he could move if needed?

  That he might want to, eventually?

  “That’s great. You’ll be able to work on that bucket list.”

  He snorted. “I threw that away.”

  “Oh. Are you—” I cut myself off. His eyes from the day I’d ended things haunted me.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Have you been okay?”

  He took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. “My OCD had gotten worse before we broke up.”

  I pulled back and stared at him. “It had?”

  “Yeah. I wasn’t sleeping much. Then I started having compulsions around my food.”

  I thought back to the night I’d found his bucket list. The contents of his pantry had been on his counter, but I’d assumed he was organizing it.

  “I didn’t realize.”

  “I’m good at hiding it. I was having trouble eating anything that I couldn’t ensure wasn’t expired. And I’d started checking, which is a common compulsion. I’d double-and-triple check sell-by dates on food. I’ve struggled with that before, but this time it was bad.”

  “You didn’t eat the burger I got you that night.” Things were starting to click into place.

  “Yeah. I threw it away. There was no way for me to check the expiration of its ingredients. I was spiraling and needed to get my head on straight. I was really stressed, not just about our relationship but also about graduating and the farm.”

  “Oh, babe. I’m sorry.”

  He squeezed me. Cuddly Connor was still my favorite Connor.

  “It’s not your fault, Travis. Or anyone’s. But I knew something needed to change, that I needed to focus on getting better, so I forced our big confrontation. Then I started visiting my therapist regularly again. She set me up to see someone here in Oklahoma City when I moved. I’m doing okay now. I’ve had a couple small relapses, but that’s nothing new. I’m managing them better. And if I have another bad episode in the next few months, we’ll look into medication.”
/>   I nodded. “I’m glad you’re doing what you need to do to feel better.”

  He pressed his cheek to my forehead briefly. “I’m working on asking for help when I’m struggling and on being honest with those in my life about it.”

  I hoped he was including me in that description, but I was too scared to ask and break the spell. He was holding me like I hadn’t damaged us irreparably, and I wanted to live in that reality for as long as possible.

  We stayed wrapped up in each other for a long time after that, watching the sun sink in the sky through his big window.

  Finally, I said, “I missed you.”

  “Me too.”

  “I’d have conversations with you in my head, telling you about my day, about the people I’d met at SAFE Asylum. About their courage. Their hardships. How I could never do enough. Then, when fake conversations didn’t work, I wrote letters. I felt like I’d lost something vital. Like I’d lost my best friend. It was all my fault.”

  His callused palm slid up my arm and came to a stop on the side of my neck, his thumb resting on my Adam’s apple. A flush of heat spread through me so fast it nearly made me dizzy.

  “I’d love to see those letters,” he said.

  “No way. They’re pathetic and sad.”

  A small chuckle rumbled through him. “Best friends share stuff even when it’s pathetic and sad.”

  “I love your laugh.” His fingers clenched, like I’d surprised him. My skin felt tight as a drum. God, the things I wanted to ask him to do. “Do you think boyfriends share those things too?” I asked.

  He stood without warning, his strong, farm boy arms picking me up like it was nothing.

  Vertigo hit me at the sudden movement, and I yelped in surprise. He carried me toward his dark bedroom.

  I inhaled sharply when we made it through the doorway of his room. He’d painted perfect glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, and there were twinkle lights around the big window.

  Tears welled in my eyes, and a small, embarrassing noise escaped me.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked after sitting down heavily on a cushy bench at the end of his bed.