There’s a fire in his eyes.
Fielder leads me downstairs into the main cabin, through a secluded hallway, and into the primary suite adorned with rose petals clearly for Sienna and Topher, untouched. I wonder if they knew it was here.
He moves in to kiss me, but I step back.
“Did you tell everybody about us in the grotto?” I ask.
His eyes widen as he licks his lips. “Defineeverybody?”
“Fuck, Fielder, really?!”
“I was telling Matty because I tell Matty everything. You know that, he’s my best friend, and Benny was kind of there too, and Monroe and Tyler because, well, it’s a long story that we can talk about once we talk about everything—”
My temples throb.
“So everybody knows?”
“Well, I mean, I didn’t mean to post anything to Clock. I thought I just had my camera open. Reflex, I guess. My fat fingers must’ve accidentally uploaded to my story and—”
“Yourstory?”
“But it’s deleted now!”
I’m seeingred. “That was a private, vulnerable moment. For us. This is exactly why we broke up, Field. You’re always on your phone, missing life, and obsessing over dumb sh—”
“Dumb? We’re dumb . . .” He takes a step back.
“No, that’s not the point. I—That wasn’t meant for the entire world to see. What did you think you were doing, capturing something viral? Hoping to get more likes or follows or comments? Looking for more validation? Real life isn’t online, Fielder. Maybe Cam was right and you are using me for likes.”
“Cam? What does Cam have to do with this?” Fielder’s face cracks. He pauses, and tears fill his eyes. “I’m sorry, believe me when I say it was a mistake. I wasn’t looking to record anything, and definitely notus. That was real. That meant everything to me.”
I look away. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s real anymore.”
He moves closer. “Ricky, please.” His voice shakes. “I finally got you back. I can’t lose you again.”
I don’t say anything.
“Did you mean all that stuff you said about me?”
My jaw clenches.
“You know what . . .” He’s breathing heavy. “Fuck you, Ric.” His chest is heaving in, out, in, out. “Youleftme. Like a coward. You don’t get to turn me into your breakup monster because I went ahead and made something of myself. Yeah, maybe I spent a good deal of the last year pining after you and hoping I could win you back, and maybe that was misguided, but at least I was working on myself along the way.” He turns his back on me. “I’m realizing now that I have actually changed. I don’t post on Clockbecause I need validation; I do it because it gives me a sense of community and purpose, and I enjoy it—it’s given me a way to express myself, especially when I didn’t have direction, and now that I’m finding my voice and seeing where it can take me beyond the platform, raising awareness of environmental issues in food production and working in TV, but you know what? Maybe you don’t deserve my time anymore. Maybe you don’t know me at all if you think I could do something malicious like that. Maybe you never did.” He reaches for the door handle.
“Fielder.” I call out for him, anger building in my chest. “Wait.”
I can’t let him walk out.
“What?” The word slices through me like a knife.
“You can’t leave like that.” Hand on his shoulder, I spin him around.
His chest heaves, anger or passion, or both.
He pushes me away.
“I hate you,” he says.
“That’s fine,” I say, and kiss him because I can’t help myself; we’re two magnets, and the universe is pulling us together, pushing us toward each other no matter the distance or obstacles thrown at us.
