The light and air always catch me off guard. The memories of first waking up in this room with a stranger. A stranger who became my life. Who gave me this life.
The door closes, and I slowly turn to find you leaning against it. Your arms are folded and your chin is lowered and you’re looking at me like you have no idea who I am anymore. “I can’t do this, Rachael.”
Panic slams into me. Desperation pinches my chest. “You can’t do what?” The words are raw and forced from my throat, thick with emotion.
You shake your head and drop your eyes. “If this is how it’s going to be—sneaking around and lying to me—I can’t do it. I’ve had enough of that in my life already.”
Your words slay me—knock the breath from my lungs. The last thing I want is to be one of the people who bring you pain. Your father, Enzo, and his damn secrets. Gina Montgomery, MJ’s mom, being alive and MJ having a sister… all the lies and deceit. I’m the one you love and trust and all I’m doing is giving you reason to doubt and push me away.
Your expression is conflicted. You’re torn, emotionally and mentally.
I drop to the bed and run my fingers under my eyes, pushing the tears back. “I’m so sorry. I never meant… I only wanted to help her.” I wait until you slowly raise your eyes to mine. “I love you, Merrick. You know that, don’t you?”
You inhale sharply and nod, then close your eyes like you can’t look at me and say what you have to say. “I think this all happened to fast. I brought you here and our relationship took off instantly. Then everything with Enzo and MJ and…” Your eyes flash open and you pound your palm against the door. “I think you need a break, Rachael, to think about everything. I think you should go home to Cleveland for a while.”
My world shatters as I stare at you. The pieces ring out as they hit the floor. Their sharp edges rain down on me and draw blood. I let out a sob and press my hand against my chest. “You don’t want me anymore?”
You cringe like a shard of glass lodged in your chest. “I will always want you. I’m dying inside thinking of you gone from here, but I love you too much to watch you fall into an obsession over this place. It’s not healthy. It’s making you someone you’re not.”
“I’m not obsessed! You don’t even know what happened to me today. You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you. You’d think I was going crazy.”
You walk forward and lean against the arm of the chair. “Tell me.”
I want to tell you, but you’ve already shut me out. You want me to go away for a while and take a break from this place. From you.
I just shrug. I can’t tell you. Why would I share something so precious and important to me with someone who won’t believe me?
“You’re putting this between us,” you say.
“No. You are.” It’s all I can manage. I’m so hurt I can barely speak.
You lick your lips and suck them in. Your eyes wander the room. I’ve never seen so much sadness on a person’s face before, and I’ve never felt so much inside me. It’s so dark and intense, I don’t know how we can survive it.
Chapter Eleven
Our guests are eating brunch on the patio. Beck flew in a family with young kids—the great-grandchildren—this morning, and their shrieks and laughter mingle with chirping birds, the clang of silverware against china, and the pleasant murmur of conversation.
The bride and groom of fifty years, both in their mid-to late seventies, sit in the center of their large family. She has a corsage of pink roses pinned to her white blouse, and he’s wearing a boutonniere on the lapel of his tan linen jacket. They could be Ingrid and Archibald surrounded by their five children and seventeen grandchildren.
They could be us someday.
I glance over at you, going over last-minute details with Beck and Riley, and my chest aches.
I don’t want to leave you.
I don’t want to leave Turtle Tear.
“Things are going
The door closes, and I slowly turn to find you leaning against it. Your arms are folded and your chin is lowered and you’re looking at me like you have no idea who I am anymore. “I can’t do this, Rachael.”
Panic slams into me. Desperation pinches my chest. “You can’t do what?” The words are raw and forced from my throat, thick with emotion.
You shake your head and drop your eyes. “If this is how it’s going to be—sneaking around and lying to me—I can’t do it. I’ve had enough of that in my life already.”
Your words slay me—knock the breath from my lungs. The last thing I want is to be one of the people who bring you pain. Your father, Enzo, and his damn secrets. Gina Montgomery, MJ’s mom, being alive and MJ having a sister… all the lies and deceit. I’m the one you love and trust and all I’m doing is giving you reason to doubt and push me away.
Your expression is conflicted. You’re torn, emotionally and mentally.
I drop to the bed and run my fingers under my eyes, pushing the tears back. “I’m so sorry. I never meant… I only wanted to help her.” I wait until you slowly raise your eyes to mine. “I love you, Merrick. You know that, don’t you?”
You inhale sharply and nod, then close your eyes like you can’t look at me and say what you have to say. “I think this all happened to fast. I brought you here and our relationship took off instantly. Then everything with Enzo and MJ and…” Your eyes flash open and you pound your palm against the door. “I think you need a break, Rachael, to think about everything. I think you should go home to Cleveland for a while.”
My world shatters as I stare at you. The pieces ring out as they hit the floor. Their sharp edges rain down on me and draw blood. I let out a sob and press my hand against my chest. “You don’t want me anymore?”
You cringe like a shard of glass lodged in your chest. “I will always want you. I’m dying inside thinking of you gone from here, but I love you too much to watch you fall into an obsession over this place. It’s not healthy. It’s making you someone you’re not.”
“I’m not obsessed! You don’t even know what happened to me today. You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you. You’d think I was going crazy.”
You walk forward and lean against the arm of the chair. “Tell me.”
I want to tell you, but you’ve already shut me out. You want me to go away for a while and take a break from this place. From you.
I just shrug. I can’t tell you. Why would I share something so precious and important to me with someone who won’t believe me?
“You’re putting this between us,” you say.
“No. You are.” It’s all I can manage. I’m so hurt I can barely speak.
You lick your lips and suck them in. Your eyes wander the room. I’ve never seen so much sadness on a person’s face before, and I’ve never felt so much inside me. It’s so dark and intense, I don’t know how we can survive it.
Chapter Eleven
Our guests are eating brunch on the patio. Beck flew in a family with young kids—the great-grandchildren—this morning, and their shrieks and laughter mingle with chirping birds, the clang of silverware against china, and the pleasant murmur of conversation.
The bride and groom of fifty years, both in their mid-to late seventies, sit in the center of their large family. She has a corsage of pink roses pinned to her white blouse, and he’s wearing a boutonniere on the lapel of his tan linen jacket. They could be Ingrid and Archibald surrounded by their five children and seventeen grandchildren.
They could be us someday.
I glance over at you, going over last-minute details with Beck and Riley, and my chest aches.
I don’t want to leave you.
I don’t want to leave Turtle Tear.
“Things are going
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