Page 96 of Moving Forward

He nods stiffly. “I know.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” I repeat solemnly, “and you’re not holding me. Is there something wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

My insecurities send the words trailing off into nothing but an embarrassingly faint whisper. Pathetic. I’m always on the verge of tears around him.

He rolls over to face me. I press against him, stealing his warmth. I hike one leg up over his waist and wrap my arms around him, burying my cheek in his bare chest. His hand tangles in my hair and his jaw goes slack against the top of my head. “You’re not going to be here anymore,” he says gruffly, and I realize he’s been crying silent tears. “I don’t want to sleep if you’re going to leave me in the morning.”

“We have tomorrow too,” I remind him.

“Not all of tomorrow.” He works his jaw. “Shit. I’m being selfish. You’ve been looking forward to tomorrow.”

I burrow tighter into his embrace. “I’ve been looking forward to Ellie getting married. I’ve been hearing about their wedding day since before Danny even proposed. This day has felt like it’s taken a lifetime to get to. I am not excited to leave you, though.”

“But you have to.” His resigned tone tells me he understands. Here will always be Ethan’s home. Ethan’s town. I can’t have a life here without Ethan hanging over me, a constant reminder he’s gone. As much as I love Cain, my life with him will never be full if Ethan is always on the brink of my mind, a memory threatening to break me.

I wish I could ask Cain to go with me, but like he won’t ask me to stay, I won’t ask him to leave. So many people have left him. I don’t want to put him in a position where he has to leave Ruth, the one person who’s always stayed.

He has to stay and I have to go.

But that doesn’t mean we have to end.

Cain doesn’t feel the same way. I can feel it. He doesn’t believe in us—he thinks that we won’t make it beyond tomorrow. He expects me to leave him, just like everyone else. I have to show him that won’t happen.

“I have to,” I concede. “But we’re not over after tomorrow. Okay?”

“Yeah,” he answers. His voice wobbles.

“Cain?”

“I don’t want to lose you,” he admits into the darkness. “I’ve been lying here trying to think about all the ways I can keep you and none of them are right.”

“I don’t want to lose you, either,” I respond. Where is he going with this?

Tears are now streaming down his cheeks. I brush them away because he doesn’t seem to notice them. “I’m going to let you go.”

“Were you going to stop me?” I ask, almost laughing.

“No, I mean that I want us to take a break from each other.”

I still. My stomach drops. Now I’m crying too. “What?”

“It’s the only way I can think of to make this thing work between us.”

“I don’t understand. How can it work between us if you’re ending our relationship?”

He exhales. “I’m not explaining this right.”

“Please try,” I urge.

“I need time to work on myself. You’ve helped me realize that I’m capable of coping, but I’ve been relying on you. I need to learn how to handle things on my own. I need to go to therapy, start going into public, learning how to exist again. If you’re in my life, I’ll always let you push me to do those things instead of pushing myself.”

Is it my fault? Did I make him do things he didn’t want to do? Does he not want to be with me because I tried too hard to change him? I force those thoughts down, not wanting to argue. I want to understand. And I guess I do. This isn’t personal. It’s similar to the other reason I want to leave Orchard Valley behind—to put some space between Ellie and me, so I’m not relying on her all the time.

“But you aren’t giving up on us?” I ask.

“No, never,” he answers emphatically. “I still want to be with you. I still want a future with you. I just need time.”

“How much time?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

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