My world tilts, and I hit the hardwood floor on my knees, still struggling tofuckingbreathe. My hands claw at my hair, my neck, thumbing my chest again and again and again as the edges of my vision go hazy.
“Jace, Jacie. Shit. Calm down, baby.”
Tyler.My amazing Tyler.
“Breathe with me, baby. Lookat me.”
He’s down on his knees beside me, and when I finally lock eyes with him, lock with that steady, calm gaze that always pulls me back from the edge, I manage a shaky breath.
“Oh shit, I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry.” I let it out as I take a couple more gasps of that beautiful, amazing air, trying to find my center in the endless depths of those brown eyes.
“Are you going to break up with me now?” I squeak, asking the most horrid question. The question he asked me not that long ago.
I can feel the first tears sliding down my cheeks. I just know this is too much. I failed him so many times since last spring. So many fucking times. How can he still be this amazing, this understanding?
We survived miles apart, states apart. We fucking did. Somehow, we survived Mick. I know we’re still healing, still have a lot to fix, but I still believe we made it. We got through it.
But being on the other side of the fucking world? With no way for me to just hop on a plane and come back? And him—when he starts living his own dream after the draft, barely having time to even think about Europe? My vision blurs again, and a high-pitched squeak slips out of me.
“Jace, son,” my dad starts again, his voice softer now. “Please, take a breath. Listen to your man here. Calm down and let me explain.”
I shift my gaze back to Tyler, my beautiful Tyler, and try to match his breathing, focusing on his perfect lips and those perfect dimples as he breathes slow and steady: one, two, three, four—in, and one, two, three, four—out. Over and over.
My throat feels like I’m sucking air through a tiny straw.
God, he is incredible. My cool, calm, collected man. Always staying centered and focused when shit hits the fan, the steady rock I lean on.
His eyes spill over, and I hate how the tears catch in his dimples and just linger there, mocking me, refusing to disappear like the pain, heartbreak, and all the bullshit life keeps throwing at us. Like it’ll never fucking go away.
Despite that, hestillhas that crooked, soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. I know he does it to keep me sane. To keep me his.
He’s the fucking gravity holding me down, stopping me from drifting off into the chaos of our lives. The fixed point I orbit when everything inside me wants to spin apart. And fuck, I hold on to that smile like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the ground. Because it fucking is.
I can breathe again. I can. And slowly—slowly—the pressure in my chest starts to ease. The burn in my throat fades to a manageable ache. I blink back the worst of the blur and try to come back to myself. To him.
A hand lands on my shoulder, steady but light, and for the first time I can actually focus on the words coming out of my father’s mouth.
“I’m sorry to have scared you like this by coming here, Jace. But please trust me when I say that you’re not getting deported. It’ll take a couple of weeks before you’ll receive the copy, but your visa was approved.”
“What?” I wheeze.Approved?
The word hits me like a delayed punch to the gut. My brain can’t quite catch up. My eyes shoot to Ty, to his wide, stunned gaze. Those big, brown eyes fucking glassy, like they’re trying to figure out if this is real, if he heard it right too.
My head starts spinning again, my breath hitching in my throat, and all I can do is stare. And stare. And stare.
“Jace?” My dad’s voice sharpens, more grounded now. Stern, almost. “It’s fixed.Breathe.”
I comply in an instant, body reacting before my mind can.I’m staying. I suck in a breath, jagged and shaky, but it’s something. It’sair.
And then he’s there.Tyler. On me, around me. His arms fling around my neck as he throws himself into me, and I crash backward on the floor, holding on so tight I almost lose my breath all over again.
I think I’m crying. He is too. Shit. We’re such a damn mess. But fuck it, I don’t care. This is everything.I’m not getting deported.
“You’re staying,” he breathes against my neck on a shaky sob. “You’re staying, staying,staying.”
He says it like he needs to hear it out loud to believe it. Like if he stops repeating it, I’ll vanish. And I just hold him tighter,so fucking tight.My hands fist in the back of his shirt, my face pressed to his cheek, my heart finally,finally, beating in a rhythm that doesn’t feel like it’s going to kill me.
The relief pours out of me in waves, so much I’m shaking. Physically fuckingtrembling.
