Page 88 of Fall Apart

“I don’t know if that’s good enough for me anymore. Not right now.”

I turn away and start walking to the driver side of the car when he cries out. “Lizzy, please. Don’t go.” I turn to see him taking a step towards me and I hold up a finger between us, stopping him in his tracks.

“I can’t do this right now. I need to leave.”

“I’m telling you the truth. Please, don’t.” His voice is still the quiet, eerie whisper that shakes me to my bones. And the desperate look in his eyes is one I can’t reconcile with the cocky, playful man I know.

“I’m sorry. I just need to take a beat.” I start to turn back to my car when he drops to his knees between me and the house. “I am begging you, please stay.”

The sight is jarring. This is the proudest, most stubborn, determined man I've met. Seeing him kneeling before me, on the verge of breaking down, is nearly my undoing.

I step back toward him and kneel down in front of him. I reach out, holding the sides of his face, rubbing a stray tear away from his cheek. Those beautiful green eyes, the ones that make me feel so seen, so wanted, look so distraught. The way his chest heaves from labored breathing, the veins pulsing in his neck, all tear at my heart. This isn’t the look of a man who would lie to me or hurt me. He’s not defensive or angry. He’s not lashing out.

No. This is the look of a man terrified of losing something he needs to live, like he’s running out of air to breathe. This is a man grasping and clawing for purchase, for any semblance of control, desperate to fix something he thinks is broken. This is a man trying his best not to fall apart in this moment. This is the man that I’ve fallen for when I didn’t think I could truly feel love again.

I run my hand through his hair, watching his throat bob and his pulse quicken while he leans into my touch. I want so desperately to trust him. In my heart,I do trust him.

But something in the back of my mind is telling me I need more from him, more than he’s willing to give me right now in this moment. My brain is telling me I deserve to feel good about this. I need space to make sure I’m right. I said I wouldn’t let myself be defined by another man and I don’t want to make a mistake in the heat of the moment. Looking into his eyes, I know if I stay here right now, I won’t be able to stay away from him and think clearly.

“Clay,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice from fraying.

Stay calm, Lizzy. Be strong.

“I’m not leaving you. I’m not ending this between us. But I need space. I need to clear my head. And I need you to realize this isn’t something you can control or fix, as badly as you want to.” I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “I’m not something you can control.”

His eyes lock on mine, but he doesn’t move. The only sounds are his labored breaths. “I could never tame you, Lizzy.” Something about that tears right at my heart again because I know he means it. “And I wouldn’t want to.”

“And that’s why I love you, Clay Chapman. That’s why I fucking love you, against every self-preservation instinct I have.” This time, I wipe a stray tear from my eye. “You think everyone sees you as leftovers from all your tragedies like it’s some weakness or flaw. But to me, that’s the most beautiful thing about you. What you see as the broken shards of yourself, I see as special, perfect little pieces that come together to make the beautiful mosaic you are. The unique person that sees me and makes me feel special. That’s why I’m so helplessly in love with you.”

I raise my eyes to meet his and there’s the slightest bit of hope there. “Then please. Don’t go.”

I rub his cheek again, the feeling of his stubble still sending shivers through me even right now. “I’m sorry, Clay. I need some time for myself tonight. But I’m not running from you.” I look back into his eyes, trying to remind him of that night we talked at the condo. “I’m going back to my family’s place. I’m not leaving you, but I need space. Please respect that.”

I plant one, soft kiss to his forehead, breathing in his soothing scent. Then I gather all the strength I have to stand, turn away, and walk to my Bronco, already fighting every fiber of my being telling me to turn back and go to him right now.

By the timeI get back to the Aspen Grove Club and get in the elevator, I’m a frantic mess. I almost feel like I did that day last summer when I showed up on Veronica’s porch, for an entirely different list of reasons.

I just walked away from the man I love. Three months ago when we first met, I didn’t even think I was capable of that. I didn’t even know what I wanted in my life after I was given a second chance to start over. And now I’m reeling because I found him, I found what I want, who I want.

I don’t want safe. I know I want Clay, the man that lights a fire in me just by looking at me with those eyes that see me like no one else. I want him and all of his broken shards that fit into mine. I want him and that heart that’s seen so much loss and still pours out more for the people he loves.

And if I’m reeling, I know he has to be heartbroken right now. He’s poured so much of his soul out to me. But I need to be sure that I’m ready for this, because there’s no recovering from this kind of love.

My heart pounds as I step off the elevator and head into the condo. At this moment, I’m glad Clay is the obsessive, reliable person he is because everything was fixed on time and I have a familiar place to take a night and think by myself.

When I walk in, I’m completely caught off guard when I see my dad sitting at the kitchen island on his laptop.

He briefly peeks over the screen, barely noticing me, before turning back to his work. “Oh hey, Lizzy. How was your day?”

I stand there with my purse still clenched in my hand, in complete disbelief. He just asked me how my day was. Did he even look at me? Can he not hear how hard I’m breathing?

“It was shitty, Dad.” I can’t hide my irritation, my anger, my sniffling.

He doesn’t look up, but he points to a bottle of wine on the counter.

“Welcome to grab yourself a glass. Just opened it.” I stride around the island, grabbing a glass from the cabinet before standing next to him and pouring myself a very generous amount.

I glare back at him, taking a sip. He still hasn’t even looked up from his laptop again. This is how it always is with him, like I’m a ghost.

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