Page 42 of Westward

Atlas’s face went ashen as his eyes widened. “That’s not— that’s not how it was. We had different futures planned, and we agreed that we wouldn’t be able to make it work.”

“And we wouldn’t have. We aren’t kids anymore, Atlas. And we still have different lives. Neither one of us waited.”

“It was always you. But I couldn’t stay behind.”

You didn’t ask me to stay.

The words left unsaid…until now.

“I didn’t ask you to stay behind. Don’t you see? It was an impossible situation. I couldn’t get a full ride at your school. I wasn’t an athlete. And they didn’t give academic scholarships like that. I couldn’t follow along and hope that you would make it into the NHL so that I would be cared for and never have to worry about money or a job or anything. That’s not how life worked, and I had to be the one to realize that. I had to be the one who stayed. I don’t hate you. I don’t hate myself. But I am not your cross to bear.”

“You never have been. Don’t you see? We aren’t those people we were when we were eighteen. We’re not making those decisions anymore. For fuck’s sake, Lizzie, we have different decisions to make now.”

“Don’t you see I know that? I know you’re looking at a future that you are so uncertain of, and I’m afraid that you’re looking behind in order to find your steadiness. I know you want to retire, Atlas. I see it all over your face.”

“I haven’t said those words. Don’t say those words.”

“Because you’re scared. That makes total sense. I’m scared too. I’m so scared that you’re afraid of what your life is going to be like after you leave something that you’ve put your entire soul into, and so you’re clinging onto what was, and not seeing who I am now.”

“I have always seen you.”

“I know that. At least partly. But there are so many uncertainties in your life, while I am clinging to the edge of normalcy here. Between your career and whoever the hell hurt you, there’s so much in the unknown, and I don’t want to be the one who forces you to make those choices.”

He cupped my face again, his eyes full of anger. “Never. You’ve never been that for me. You’ve always been my Lizzie.”

“But I haven’t.”

He pressed his forehead to me, his chest heaving as he took deep breaths. “I love you. And I’ve hated parts of me. I’ve hated parts of my life because you weren’t in it.”

“Atlas,” I whispered, tears freely falling down my cheeks now. “So love me now.”

“How is it any different from what I said?”

“Because you said you always loved me. And I don’t know if I could take that. So don’t break me. Because this town has done enough for both of us.”

“Elizabeth,” his voice a gasp.

“I keep saying these words, trying to put the truth out there, because I’m scared. Because you’re going to go back to Portland, and I’m going to stay here, and the truth is that you’ve always had a part of me. You took that away, and I’m the one who let you do so. I don’t know. I don’t want you to go, but I need you to. I don’t want you to love me, but I need you to. And I don’t want to love you, but I do. I so fucking do. And that scares me.”

“Out of all of that, I heard the words that you love me. Along with cursing. And you never used to curse like that.”

“I’ve learned a lot when you were away.”

“Let me love you, Lizzie. Please.”

I looked up at him then, and knew that I was lost. Not in the future or the past, but in him.

“Do you think dinner can wait?” he asked, his voice low.

My lips spread into a smile, and I tucked my fingers into his belt loops. “Well, I suppose you need to get a good workout before you eat all those carbs.”

And with that, the emotional energy that pressed on both of us cleared ever so slightly, and he took my mouth again.

He pulled me closer, one hand on the back of my neck, tilting my head so he could have me in exactly the way he wanted, the other reaching down to grab my ass. It slid my dress up slightly, and I moaned.

“You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this,” he whispered as he kissed down my neck. I leaned into him, shivering.

“Let’s not talk about how long I’ve waited. Or any imaginary things that might have happened.”