Page 100 of Up in Smoke

“Tripp,” she whispers sadly. The corners of her eyes fill with tears, but they don’t spill over yet. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to admit that. But between the drinks, your dad, and every other jarring thing thrown at you that night, I understand. I know you didn’t mean to?—”

“I don’t want to cut you off,” I say, right in the middle of interrupting what I assume was going to be her version of downplaying what happened. “But I don’t think it matters if I didn’t mean to say those things or treat you like that. That’s an easy out. I don’t want to blame it on anything but myself, I just want you to know that I’m never going to do that again.”

“You’re right,” she agrees. “I just don’t want you to feel any worse about it than you already do. But”—she pauses with a small smile,—“I can see that you really worked this all out in your head with no excuses, didn’t you?”

“I did. And I won’t be angry with you if you think any less of me now.”

“Think less of you?” She repeats my words while shaking her head. “It may look different, but I’m a mess, too, you know? If I care about someone, I can’t hope they’ll accept the parts of me that might seem harder to love, then turn around and walk away when they need the same from me.”

There’s a steady strength in her fingertips as she curls her hand tighter over mine. Her response makes me feel guilty and somehow grounded at the same time because I know she’s right.

Still, I almost want her to slap me or demand I prove myself. That’s what I deserve.

I resist the urge to sink to my knees in front of her and keep explaining how stupid I was, but I know she’d gently hold my head in her hands and tell me I didn’t have to keep blaming myself.

The wedding festivities persist around us, but I ignore the hum of music and conversations. I rub a hand down my face before leaning forward and bracing my elbows on my thighs. She gathers my hands in hers, and it kills me not to pull her out of her seat and into my lap.

“I know I should quit harping on it, but I can’t. I worked out a whole speech, and you’re going to hear all of it eventually. I’m just sorry, Mace. I’m fucking sorry that I cornered you into a position where you have put up with me figuring out all my shit.”

She tilts her head and locks her eyes on mine. “You did not corner me.”

I sit up straight, hearing the edge of defiance in her voice.

“It was inevitable that everything you’ve been through would finally swallow you whole and then spit you back out again,” she continues. “Long before seeing you tonight, I’d already decided to stay. Last week was painful, but we’ve had plenty of time to think about what we both want. We both needed that. I could have bolted, but I didn’t. I’mright here.”

I open my mouth and try to form words, but all I can hear is an echo in my head. She could have bolted. What hits me even harder is that I could have, too. I’ve always had one foot out the door, even before feelings get involved.

And yet, we’re both right here.

For a moment, I glance down at our hands. I never could have predicted this path I’m wandering down. I don’t even care where it leads, I just know Mesa is on it with me, and that’s all I need. The deep sense of hope in me almost makes me laugh in disbelief, and my head falls forward.

Mesa lifts my gaze with a curled finger under my chin. The first response that pops into my head is nothing more than an apology for how little I deserve her. It holds less weight after all she’s said, so I let myself take an unfamiliar approach and bravely say the riskier thought on my mind instead.

“You could have made a run for it, but I’d have come after you. I missed you the second you went home last weekend. There’s not a chance I wouldn’t be chasing you down right now if you hadn’t shown up tonight. Not a single fucking chance.”

She smiles. “You missed me that much, huh?”

“I’ve been living in a miserable hell. Yes, I missed you that much.”

“This has been a lot for both of us,” she says softly.

“All the other stuff is easy to deal with compared to not seeing you. Not talking to you. I don’t think just wanting you around me is the right way to put it, I—” My throat bobs with a hard swallow as I find some composure. “I need you around me.”

It may be the most true and transparent sentence I’ve ever spoken out loud. No one’s ever made me want to be a better man like she has. No one else has ever made me want to stop and take a good, hard look at my life like I have lately. I found myself wanting to look for more ways to appreciate the best things and learn what I can from the bad. As much as I’d like to take credit for teaching myself that mindset, I can’t. It was mostly Mesa.

I may still be a recovering shithead, who simply lucked into having someone like her in my corner. But I’m damn sure not dumb enough to let it all slip through my fingers again.

“I’m still asking you to forgive me,” I add, taking a deep breath and swallowing hard. My next sentence comes out shaky and slow. “Look every ugly part of me in the eye and love me anyway.”

This time, a tear escapes her eye. I catch it with the pad of my thumb before it even has a chance to graze her cheek. She sniffs as I bring her hand to my mouth to kiss the inside of her wrist.

“You know what I want?”

I lean forward, hanging on her every word. “What?

“To move past this. I don’t like being away from you,” she explains. “I forgive you for what happened, and I’m done thinking about it. You and me . . . we’re happy together. I just want to get back to that.”

I almost jump to my feet so I can scoop her up and spin her around, but I think better of it and simply smile instead. “I want that, too?—”

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