Page 64 of Final Temptation
Myles’ hands fell from my hips, lowering toward my ass. His grip grew tighter, the fearfulness running through his body being passed on to me through each swipe of his tongue. With each touch to my body and movement he made, the anguish grew, as if this was the last time we’d be together in this way.
Tears built behind my closed eyes, threatening to drip down my cheeks the moment they flickered open.
Inside me, the butterflies ran wild again, dancing and fluttering around, making me feel the slightest bit of joy that he was so scared to lose me that he asked me to kiss him one last time, like this could possibly be the end.
How can he even think I’d leave his side?
Why is this kiss the most tragic type of joy I’ve felt in my entire life?
The sweet sadness and warmth of his mouth immediately disappeared when his lips parted from mine. The fear was written across every feature on his face. His heart raced, and his posture tightened.
When he caught his breath, “I almost relapsed” slipped from his lips, like he couldn’t hold it in a second longer.
The tears I harbored during our kiss moved closer to the front lines.
How can he think I’ll ever leave his side because of his struggle with alcohol?
I didn’t allow myself to hold back the emotion washing over me.
I was sad because he felt like he had to hold this in and couldn’t confide in anyone to share his story.
I was sad because there was an internal battle going onin his body so badly, he wanted to throw away every day of progress he had made.
I was sad because I couldn’t imagine what he was going through.
I wasn’t sad for me, but I was devastated for him.
His thumb brushed away the tears trickling from each side, worry etched so deep inside his eyes that the blue in them turned the color of a midnight sky.
“I’m so sorry, Sophie. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry I almost relapsed. I’m so fucking sorry for making you cry.” He continued to wipe away the tears.
Saturdays are supposed to be good days.
I want a good day for him more than anything.
“You have no reason to be sorry, Myles.” I tipped forward, my forehead meeting his. “I can’t believe you’d ever think I would leave you because you almost had a slip-up. Being on your journey to recovery doesn’t mean you’re perfect. It means you’re doing everything in your power to get better. And with good days, come bad ones. It’s okay that you’ve had a bad day. But don’t ever think I would leave you because you weren’t at your best.” I could feel the tension disappear from his body with every breath he exhaled.
“Please, Myles, don’t be afraid to call me in those moments. Don’t be afraid to ask me for help. It’s not my place to tell Paige, Declan, or anyone else. It’s your job to tell your loved ones of your mistakes and faults when the time is right for you. Admitting your slip-ups is all a part of your journey, and I’m so proud of you for confiding in me today.”
“Fuck, Soph. I don’t deserve you.” His head hung low.
“You deserve more than you give yourself credit for.” Ilifted his chin, picking his head back up. Myles remained speechless.
I needed to turn this Saturday around. I needed to show him that the bad days didn’t need to stay bad. They always had the ability to turn around.
Combing my fingers through his hair, I leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his lips before whispering, “Now if you don’t tell me what we’re doing out here in the middle of nowhere, I’ll have to assume that you brought me out here to take advantage of me.”
Finally, a smile. His lips curved up, the bright blue in his eyes sparkling back at me with a shimmer of hope and happiness behind them.
Why didI enjoy torturing myself? Keeping myalmostslip-up inside for so long did nothing for me but stress me the fuck out.
Everyone in my life these days, they were all connected to Declan. I didn’t have that one person I could confide in, or so I thought, until Sophie came along. Part of me knew I could trust her, but the other half was terrified she would choose Paige and be more loyal to her.
I didn’t want people in my business, having an opinion on my life and all my wrongdoings. My fuck ups were mine to fix when the time was right. Declan was a fixer, and sometimes it was overbearing. He always came from a place of love, but it wasn’t what I needed.
A year ago, I had a ton of friends I could talk to and dump all my problems on. Then I got sober, realizing they weren’t really myfriends. Their advice tofixmy problems was always more of a problem than a solution.
“Smoke this blunt, it will help you relax.”
