The love,undeniable.
I trace his eyebrows, his high cheekbones, the dimples nestled in dark stubble that grazes against my fingertips. He shudders under the touch, fingers tightening on my legs.
He seems… harsher somehow. Less soft.
I know he’s lost some body fat—he explained his brutal schedule—but it’s not just that which makes his features more hardened, more severe.
No. It’s in his eyes. In the lines around his mouth. It’s stress. And Tyler? Tyler is a gentle soul, one of the most chill dudes I’ve ever met. He doesn’t stress. He doesn’t fret. He doesn’t fidget.
I put that there.
I hate that.
I plan to take some of it away tonight, to soothe the pain I caused. To start fixing it.
My forehead drops to his as I climb onto his lap for the second time this evening. His hands slide under my jacket, pulling it off my shoulders in a rush before they disappear beneath my white tee, roaming over my back—warm against my already feverish skin.
“Fuck, I missed this,” he breathes, lips a breath away, brushing mine.
My eyes go fucking damp again, and I let out a shuddery exhale. “I know. Me too. I’m so fucking happy you’re here.” Myhands slide to his neck, lips moving to his mouth, and I whisper, “Happy birthday, Ty.”
He smiles—and fuck, I almost lose it as those favorite dimples pop at me.
“It’s past midnight. It’s not my birthday anymore.”
I crumble, lips pressing together, dropping my gaze.
“I hate that I missed it. I’m so sorry,” I mumble toward his chest.
“Hey, hey. None of that.” He pulls one hand from my back and lifts my chin with a finger, gently forcing me to look at him. “You didn’t miss it. You made it count in the best way.”
He brushes his lips over mine with a soft sigh, and my head buzzes from the contact.
“Can I ask you something?” I murmur when he pulls away. He nods. Of course he nods. “How are you, really? Are you okay? I just… It’s okay if you’re not…”
His beautiful eyes well up instantly as his hands roam my cheeks, slide down my neck, then bury deep in my hair, pulling me closer—our foreheads pressed together again, my arms still wrapped tight around his broad shoulders.
“I think I’m okay now. Mostly,” he whispers. “It just… aches.” He swallows. “Sometimes the absence is too much. Even with all the talking and texting—it’s not the same. I never knew I could love like this. Miss like this.Feellike this. It’s the most beautiful and terrible thing at the same time.”
And just like that, my heart breaks for him. Forus.
“I know. I know,” I whisper, voice trembling. “I love you so much. And I’m so sorry I left you behind in California.”
“You didn’t leave me,” he says, gentle but firm. “And you shouldn’t feel sorry for living your dream. Your life just… flowed down a different path.”
I nuzzle along the side of his nose, my mouth brushing his cheek. “That’s where you’re wrong,” I murmur. “My path willalways lead to you; you’re my north. My internal GPS just decided to take the scenic route instead of the fastest one.”
He gives me a weak attempt at a smile for the shitty metaphor, but it fades as a tear slips down his cheek and catches in his dimple.
“It does seem like you’re coping better than me most of the time…” His voice trails off, and then he lets go of me.
I shake my head, reaching for him, but he turns away—rubbing his eyes as he collapses backward onto the bed, hiding his face.
“Oh f-fuck, I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “It’s just—these last months have been—fuck.” A real, broken sob escapes him, and it shatters something in me.
“Fuck, no. Don’t be sorry, baby. You’re not alone in this.” I follow him down, leaning over him, gently peeling his hands from his face. I lace our fingers together beside his head and kiss the tears away, brushing my fingertips across every crease of pain, trying to soothe him with every touch.
I don’t want to see him like this. I never want tomakehim feel like this.
