Start Over: A Novel (Start Again Series #2)

by J. Saman

  “Maybe.”

  Ivy laughs humorlessly. “Maybe, huh? Wow, that’s glowing. Seriously, I’m overwhelmed by your enthusiasm.”

  I cup her cheek, tilting her head up until her fathomless eyes meet mine.

  “What would you say if I told you that I love you?”

  Her eyes grow wide. “Are we speaking in hypotheticals here, or is this an actual declaration?”

  “I love you, Ivy,” I smile softly, my eyes eating her up. “I do. I tried not to. I swear I did, so you can’t be mad at me about that.”

  “I think I love you too,” she says and I smile so big I’m sure all of my teeth are showing.

  “You think?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Possibly?”

  She’s laughing now and so am I. My lips find hers and we kiss like two people in love as we go up in the damn Big Wheel with the city and water sprawling all around us. It would be one of those idyllic moments. You know, the type they write into cheesy movies.

  But the harsh reality is that it’s not.

  The harsh reality is that even though I want this with her, can I really be that selfish?

  “Ivy,” I breathe against her. She looks up at me with sparkling eyes, and in this moment, this very freaking moment, I realize I can’t do it. I can’t destroy her life. The life I know she’s desperate for. The life her sister Sophia reminded me that she deserves.

  She deserves the world and that’s not something I can offer.

  My heart cracks wide open in my chest. I’m bleeding out and there is nothing she can do to stop it. The pain is unreal and I’m so very tempted to thrust everything in my life aside and keep her. So very tempted. But how far could we really get that way? How long could we last until she started asking questions and demanding answers that I am incapable of giving?

  How long until I make this a million times worse?

  Because the simple truth is, I can’t give her what she wants. And the longer I let this continue, the more I’ll hurt her, and if I do that, I’ll never be able to live with myself.

  “This is all well and good, but there is a very real chance that after my fellowship I won’t be returning to Seattle.”

  Is she giving me an out? It sounds like she is. I should take it, right? I should grab hold of it with both hands.

  “My company is here in Seattle. I don’t foresee that changing anytime soon.”

  “I could always try and come back. I mean, I went to medical school, did my entire residency and most of my fellowship here. They know me. I could probably secure a position.”

  She sounds so optimistic and I’m about to obliterate that in three, two, one.

  “Ivy, honey, I’m sorry,” I say, swallowing down weight of overpowering guilt and fucking despair, knowing that what I’m doing is for her own good in the end.

  “For?” she prompts, suddenly nervous, seemingly able to read the change in my disposition.

  I can’t be with you. This will never work. “For not being in touch while I was away,” I say instead.

  She sighs, exhaustion from a day of working and my unexplained absence making themselves known. Ivy leans into me, silently watching us glide through the world around us.

  “I have a lot going on in my life right now, Luke. You made sure to see me almost every day all these weeks. Made your thoughts and feelings for me known every chance you had, and then you disappeared without an explanation. It wasn’t even like you told me that you weren’t going to be able to stay in touch. You didn’t. You just left and that was it. Maybe it seems ridiculous to expect more given our situation, but I did expect it.” Ivy finally fixes her attention on me. “And I know there’s a lot you’re hiding from me. A lot you never intend to tell me?” That last one is a question and it’s asking so much more than the simple one she poses.

  “I can’t.”

  Her eyes close slowly like she was afraid that was going to be my answer.

  “I love you, Luke, but I don’t think I trust you.”

  Wow, that may have just killed me.

  “I know I’ve given you no reason to trust me, Ivy, but I care so much about you. So much and I don’t want to lose you again.”

  I need to shut up now. I can’t even stop the contradiction.

  She shakes her head back and forth. “Were you in New York?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Is what you’re doing illegal?”

  “Not technically.”

  When she opens her eyes, they’re glassy with her unshed tears as she stares at me, patiently hoping I’ll change my answer and open up to her the way she needs me to. The way I have no intention of doing. Finally, when I don’t offer her what she’s searching for, she folds into herself and I know what’s coming.

  And all I can do is let it happen, because this is the way it’s supposed to be.

  “I don’t expect a free pass into your life, but what you give me is so superficial. What you give me is the bare minimum. I know you, yet I don’t know you at all. You’re asking if this is ending when I leave? You’re hinting that you don’t want it to, but I want a real relationship and I don’t think you can give me that, can you?”

  I shake my head, my gut twisting with the regret that chokes me.

  “I want you. And I want to be with you. I really do, but I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how to keep you and give you what you’re looking for. I’ve done things. Things you know nothing of, but even if I was interested in telling you, and you decided to stay with me by some miracle—which you wouldn’t—there will always be the other thing. There will always be the very real, dark and looming presence that I’m forever beholden to. And that I can’t change, even if I wanted to. I get how sinister and cryptic that all sounds, but that’s probably because it is.”

  Those tears that were threatening finally spill over, flowing down her cheeks.

  “Those phone calls you take?”

  I nod. “They’re the tip of the iceberg.”

  “I don’t know how to be in a relationship based on secrets and half-truths. I don’t need all the details. I don’t. I just need something real.”

  She’s pleading. I don’t know what to do. I really don’t.

  This is a hopeless situation. And continuing to straddle the line between loving Ivy and my inability to be forthcoming is only going to destroy us both. Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow, but eventually it will catch up to us. Eventually, it will end us.

  Is it better to do this now and save us both future agony, or do I string her along knowing that we’ll never be what she wants us to be? I’ve had this life going for as long as I can remember, and I don’t know how to change that.

  Fuck that, I can’t change it.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Tell me I’m not imagining the worst possible scenarios then.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Fuck you,” she snaps, hitting me hard in the shoulder. “I resisted you. I pushed you away from the very start and you were relentless. You pursued me.”

  “I know. I don’t even have a good defense, like I tried to stay away or something. I wanted you and I went after you.”

  “You selfish bastard. I tried to end this time and time again, knowing that it was leading to heartbreak. But you kept telling me it was fun. You kept convincing me that all would end well. And then you did the worst thing of all, you gave me reason to hope it would never end.”

  I cover my nose and mouth with my hands, breathing through my palms in ragged torrents, trying to clear my thoughts. She’s right. I did that. I am a selfish bastard. I knew the progression of her feelings every step of the way and I did nothing to abate them. I encouraged them because they were the same as my own, and I wanted those fucking feelings of hers dammit.

  “I’m so sorry, Ivy.”

  Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are bright with her sudden fury.

  “Then
give me a reason to do this, more than just you love me. Is there a chance at a real future here? I don’t mean to put that sort of pressure on you, on us, after this short amount of time, but you’re telling me that you love me and I love you back—and that makes me think of forever.”

  I drop my head into my hands, my elbows on my parted thighs. I have a million reasons for us to try. A million. But none of them are good for her. None of them will work, because it means her life with me will be at risk. It means her life with me will be as she said—superficial.

  It means this angel will be with the worst sort of devil.

  How could I marry her or give her my babies?

  I can’t offer her the forever she desires until I work everything out, and I don’t know when or if I can even do that.

  “I love you.” It’s all I have left and it’s not nearly enough.

  “Then trust me.”

  “It’s not a matter of that, not fully anyway, and I think you know that.”

  She pulls away, wrapping her arms tightly around her stomach, watching the rain that just started, running down the glass the same way her tears fall against her cheeks.

  She’s so beautiful. So absolutely exquisite.

  And she has me. I’m hers. But she cannot be mine.

  She’s the woman of my dreams and I’m throwing her away.

  It’s all me. I know this and I’m helpless to stop it, despite how desperate I am for her.

  “Do you know what hurts the most about this?” she asks softly, her voice so full of emotion that all I want to do is hold her in my arms and never let go. Promise her anything she needs. Give her everything.

  “What, baby?”

  She gusts out a half laugh. “We could have been so amazing. I felt it almost instantly. That night ten years ago, that night at the party, the morning you showed up at my flat, every second of it.” Her eyes find mine and the pain I see in them is more than I can handle. “We could have been epic, Luke. The couple everyone was jealous of. A year would have been nothing compared to the forever.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. It’s not because I don’t want that. Please,” I practically beg. “You have to know that. I want you, Ivy. I want to be with you.” I reach for her hand and she lets me take it into mine.

  She nods like she’s considering this, and it just makes me frantic to think of a way to be with her. To make this work.

  Do I want my life for her? It’s not like I’m asking her something easy. It would be lies and half-truths, just as she said, and then there’s my past. Fuck, how could I ever tell her about that? She’d leave me for sure. I know she would. How could she not?

  “Ryan said not to give up on you. That you were worth it. Are you? I want to believe that you are.”

  “God, I want to say yes.”

  She turns to me, her eyes so very somber. “But you can’t?”

  “There are things about my life that I cannot alter. Things I’m a part of and stuck with. Things I’ve done, and those things I will never be able to tell you about or change.”

  “This has to do with everything that went down at Caltech.” It’s not a question. It’s like she’s put it all together, but yet hasn’t. She’s got her theories and I’m sure some of them are right, but she doesn’t know everything, nor will she.

  “Part of it.”

  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here. I want a chance at something incredible, but I also want normal. I want a real life with someone. A partnership. Someone who I’m safe with and will put me first. Can you do that with me?”

  I can’t even lie to her. “No. Not now anyway.”

  “So let me see if I have everything straight then.” Her tone is almost sarcastic, but it’s too bitter to fully accomplish it. “You want to be with me and you love me. But you have a million secrets and things that you’re unwilling to share, and that’s not something that will change. So you’re pushing me away when you’d really rather not.”

  “I have to.” I grab hold of her, tugging her into me because even though I’m telling her goodbye, I can’t let her go. “It’s not that I don’t want a future with you. I fucking do. I want you forever like you wouldn’t believe, but I’m bad for you. I’m poison and you’re pure and good. I can never tell you what you want to know.”

  “Just an inch, Luke. I just need an inch.” She’s grasping onto me so tight, her fists clutching the fabric of my shirt, needing to hold on just as much as I do.

  “You deserve so much more than an inch, Ivy. So much more.” Her eyes slam shut as she nods her head, tears leaking one after the other. “I love you, and if I can figure everything out one day, maybe you’ll still be there.” I press my lips to hers, mourning their absence before I even pull away.

  I was so arrogant and wrong to drag her into my world.

  So now I do the first right thing I’ve done in ten years. I pull away and let go.

  Her head falls and she shakes with the restraint of holding back everything my words just did to her.

  “How did we get this far? This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she says, more to herself than to me.

  Ivy’s asked that question before and just like then, I don’t have an answer. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t heartbroken. I am, but worse than that, Ivy is and it’s one hundred percent my fault. I never knew guilt could come in this form. I never knew love could feel like this. I never knew pain could be so crippling.

  This is wrong. So fucking wrong. Ivy is meant to be mine and I’m meant to be hers.

  This is so motherfucking wrong. But I’m going to fix it. I’m going to make this right for her. I can’t keep her. Not yet, anyway. Things are too precarious with me, but I will make this right for her. For us. I’ll do what I have to do and I’ll fix this. I’ll let her go now, and I’ll change everything I can possibly change. I’ll flip my world upside-down. I’ll move heaven and earth if I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes to deserve her.

  And then I’ll fight like hell for her.

  “So this is it then? The end?”

  I can’t even speak the words. They might kill me as they rip a hole inside me.

  I nod and she nods, and we fall silent, watching a rainy Seattle fly past us with nothing left to be said.

  Chapter 21

  Luke

  I drive Ivy home after I screwed it all up. It’s for the best, I tell myself as I start my car and pull away, unable to look at the woman who became my everything in four short weeks, only to leave her for the second time. I’ll make this right.

  But what if I can’t make it right? What if I can’t change my situation or my life?

  Or what if I can, but by that point it’s too late and Ivy doesn’t take me back?

  That thought is a sucker punch to the gut that knocks the breath from my lungs.

  I stop at the first open bar I find, but make no move to get out just yet. It looks like a total dive, which almost makes me smile. Almost.

  “Fuck!” I slam my hands against the steering wheel so many times that the horn blasts, the phone picks up and hangs up and I turn on the stereo.

  “Fucking asshole piece of shit!” I punch my steering wheel one last time for good measure, but before I can shut off the car to go drown my misery in cheap booze, my phone rings.

  Hope flutters in my gut, thinking it’s Ivy, but it’s not. It’s Ryan.

  Of course it is.

  “I’m not talking so don’t even ask.”

  He laughs. “What did you do?”

  “Fuck you. Just fuck you and your happy existence.”

  “Address.”

  “I don’t even know, man. You’re good with computers, find me if you need to, but if not, then leave me the fuck alone.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty.”

  Of course he will.

  Shutting off the car, I run through the rain inside the bar.

  It is exactly as you picture it would be. Dark, dank and dirty.

  It reeks of stale beer and
old whiskey. There’s a guy smoking a cigarette in the back and Seattle hasn’t allowed smoking inside public establishments for at least ten years. Old-school Metallica plays in the background, as if to prove just how hard this place is.

  I walk up to the bar, which has seen better days, and park my ass in one of the many open seats. It’s eight p.m., but you’d never know it based on how empty this place is.

  “We’re not open yet,” the female bartender who looks as worn and weary as the bar she tends, says. Her very bleached blonde hair is teased a mile high, and her smudged eyeliner is at least from the night before. Her leathery skin and raspy voice betray a long-standing smoking habit.

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “We open at eight-thirty.”

  I pull out my wallet and slap a hundred-dollar bill on the counter. “What about now?”

  She eyes the money with equal parts desire and disbelief. “That real?”

  “It is. Jack, neat. You can leave the bottle.”

  She snatches the bill off the counter, examining it, even holding it up to the meager light. Once she determines it’s the real deal, she goes for that bottle and a clean glass.

  “Wanna talk about it, handsome?” She leans over the counter in a seductive pose that I’d find comical if it wasn’t so sad.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think that with your money and looks, she’s crazy for letting you go.”

  I toss back the smoky bourbon that bites all the way down my throat. “Then I guess you don’t know shit.”

  Her dark eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, creating more wrinkles in her forehead than seems age-appropriate.

  “Let me know if you need anything else, sugar.”

  Nodding, I offer a sheepish shrug, feeling a small tick of remorse for snapping at a complete stranger—especially when she’s serving me alcohol. I pour myself another and just as I’m about to sling it back, Ryan’s large frame slides into the stool next to mine.

  “May I have a clean glass, please?” he asks without saying a word to me.

  The bartender slides one down the wood and he catches it with an appreciative smile.