Page 4 of Between the Stars

“Why?” she asked, her words shaking, tears rolling down her heated cheeks. Her chin quivered. “Why can’t you just tell me how you feel and that you love me? That’s all I’m asking from you. Choose me.”

I reached out and touched my fingertips to her cheek, brushing away the tears I’d caused once more. “Even if I do, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“What? Yes, it does!”

Defiant met desperation and we stared at one another. I shook my head. “Don’t—”

“It means everything!” she yelled, slapping my shoulder and turning to face me. She moved closer, so close I finally saw her eyes in the darkness and the agony etched in them. She straddled my lap, wedging herself between me and the steering wheel where I was forced to see the damage. The callous expression I’d been holding onto faded. “Damn it, Jace, just tell me.” She pressed her cherry-red tear-soaked lips together in a flat line. She stared at me, like I was the one who started this fire. How dare I try to blow on the flames? I held strong, despite the burning in my chest. “Don’t let me leave here and think the last seven years meant nothing.” Gliding her hands up my shoulders, she took my face in her palms.

I stared at her, trying to force myself to give her the words she so desperately needed.

She was tired of the situation, and I believed I couldn’t give her what she wanted. What she didn’t see, what she couldn’t understand was this, right in front of us, stayed here. I couldn’t leave this car and tell the world this girl was mine. She had a future out there, miles away from this small town, and I couldn’t trap her here. I saw it with Barron and Tara. Married at eighteen and a baby on the way. Their future was in this small town. Abbi deserved better than that.

Stranded in the silence, Abbi cried harder, her head on my shoulder. She was hyperventilating and I couldn’t give her anything. I held onto her, pinned her wrists and hands, but never offered the words she wanted. I couldn’t. “I can’t do that,” I told her, holding tighter. “I can’t be the one holding you back.”

She was crying harder than before, her words barely audible. “So you’re just going to let me leave without telling me how you feel?”

“You won’t get too far from me.” Letting go of one of her hands, I traced my fingertips over freckles and knew, no matter what, this girl would always have a piece of me with her. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Her eyes didn’t shy away. She held still. Demanding. “If I leave this truck, I’m not falling for you again.”

Tears stung my eyes, but they didn’t fall. I wouldn’t let them. My hands shook as I held her in place against me. “You deserve better,” I agreed, because what else could I say?

I’ve been told toomany times, I’m not the one for her. Her father warned me I wasn’t good enough. Hell, my own best friend said the same. “Stay away from Abigale Mae Lockett” might as well have been written on my birth certificate and a number one rule of my life.

Abbi was wrong though. She did fall for me again, time and time again in the last four years, but it never changed the outcome. She’s still engaged to someone else.

That night in my truck, I could relive that memory over and over again, but it doesn’t get me anywhere but drowning in my regrets. I should have stopped her, but my pride had a way of getting in the way. So I leave it hanging there, with my reasons that had nothing to do with me. But is that the truth? My dad once told me if you love a woman, don’t let her go.

I didn’t listen. I let her go because she was too good for me and I couldn’t give her what she needed at the time.

“You won’t get too far from me. I’ll make sure of it.”

Those words are still true too. We still talk, even now. She texts me on my birthday every year and I do the same. I’ve seen her seven times since she left, hooked up with her a time or two, and follow her on Instagram. I give those hearts to every single post even the “it hurts to see her pictured with anyone but me” ones. Why? Because sometimes letting someone go is better for them, not you. I always know where she is, who she’s dating, and any time she’s in town, it’s my arms she runs to.

Still, my stomach burns with guilt. I fucked up letting her go and everyone in this town would agree with me. If they knew.

* * *

Somewhere between grovelingin my misery and Sev taking nap on my lap in a booth, I fight through the urge to text Abbi. ’90s country blares through the bar, and though I don’t want to think of her, I do. Over and over again.

I scroll through her pictures on Instagram, and every one paints a life of happiness, but is she really? Can she be without me? I think about the last time I saw her. Last fall before she started dating this guy she’s engaged to. I met up with her and Josie, my sister, at a concert in Birmingham. I swipe through the photos on her feed to the one of that night.

Sighing, I hold the phone steady and immerse myself in the memories. Look at that spark in her eyes and the smirk on mine. You see it, don’t you? Nobody knows this, but I fucked Abbi twice that night and every time I hear “If I Didn’t Love You” by Jason Aldean, I think of that night. Truth is, if I didn’t love her, everything would be easier. I often wonder, why her? But then again, I think she asks herself, why me. I’ve made it clear over the years I’m not someone she’s going to forget.

As another song ends and one begins, I notice Morgan and Lillian at the bar now, their shoulders touching and eyes locked on one another. I have a fucking bone to pick with that motherfucker Morgan. He borrowed my Jeep the other night and turns out, he fucked Lillian in it. Lillian is not his wife though. Yep. Married to someone else. Small-town drama at its finest.

Morgan Grady, he’s a big guy. Burly linebacker stature, cowboy hat, full beard, badass, and word to the wise, don’t throw a punch his way unless you expect to get knocked on your ass. And never, ever give him tequila. You’ll fuckin’ regret that shit the second he takes the first drink. He makes the worst decisions ever. Probably what he was drinking when he fucked Lillian in my Jeep.

That’s right.Myfucking Jeep.

I let him borrow it and now look what happened. Don’t tell him, but I had sex in his bed one time with Abbi. You tell him and I’ll deny it. For now, I’m going to go ahead and remain pissed off.

I shove his shoulder as Sev runs over to Barron. “What the fuck, man?”

“What?” Morgan snaps, turning around to face me, Lillian next to him rolling her eyes.

I stand my ground, my hands on my hips. “You two are cleaning my Jeep. Sanitized, steamed and all that shit.” I wave my hand around in his face.

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