CHAPTER 34
CASSIE
“Hey.”
My head lifts at Tate’s approach. “Hey.”
It’s nine in the morning and he’s back from his parents’ house. I was up in my bedroom when I heard his Jeep pull in, and a moment later his text popped up, asking me to meet him down on the Jacksons’ dock.
He looks tired as he lowers his body next to me, dangling those long legs over the edge of the dock.
“Did you get any sleep last night?” I ask.
“What do you think?” he says wryly. “You?”
“What do you think?” I mimic. I let out a sigh. “My mom’s gone.”
He’s startled. “Gone how?”
“Oh, I mean she left. Caught a flight to Boston last night. Grandma told her not to come home, to stay at a hotel. I guess her pride wouldn’t allow her to do that. She sent Grandma a message this morning asking to have her bags shipped to Boston.”
“Did you two talk at all?”
“Oh, we did.” The memory of the confrontation outside the Beacon is going to stay with me for a very long time. Hell, the events of that one night alone will take ten years’ worth of therapy to unpack. “She had her excuses. Claimed she didn’t plan on ambushing them at the party.”
Tate snorts. “Bullshit.”
“That’s what I said. It doesn’t matter, though. What’s done is done.”
He studies my face. “So where did you leave it, you and her?”
“It’s over,” I say flatly. My heart clenches, a ripple of pain moving through me. “The relationship is irrevocably broken.”
“Cass…”
“It is. And now I feel … free. No longer feel trapped by it. I always told myself I had to be in this relationship. I had to take the abuse because, well, it’s my mother. That’s what people always say, right? It’s your mother. They can’t fathom cutting a parent out of their lives.”
I lean closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder. After a beat, he puts his arm around me. His fingertips stroke my bare shoulder. A part of me feared he would show up this morning and announce he wanted nothing to do with me after my mother’s nauseating actions. But he’s here and he has his arm around me, and I’m weak with relief.
“I don’t need to be in that relationship, Tate. Maybe one day, if she has that moment of self-reflection you were talking about. But that’s not happening anytime soon. And in the meantime, I need to live my own life. Without her in it.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“I am. I mean, it hurts. But having her in my life hurts more.”
“I guess that’s the silver lining?” He runs his palm over my shoulder again, a comforting gesture.
“Oh. No. The silver lining would be that if I hadn’t had a complete breakdown after confronting my mom, then I wouldn’t have gone over to my dad’s—where I had another complete breakdown. I was very busy.” I can’t help but laugh. “But enough about me. How did it go with your parents?”
“It went.” His answering laugh is dry. “But you can’t just leave me hanging like that. What happened at your dad’s?”
I peek up at Tate with a self-deprecating grin. “Well, I went to confront him and ended up curled in a fetal position of tears on their front lawn. Nia came outside and we had a moment. A good one, actually. Then I went inside and talked to my dad. I did what you told me. Shared my feelings. Vocalized my needs and all that crap.”
Tate snickers.
“I told him I want a relationship that involves more than lighthearted banter and turtle shopping. That I want to be able to come to him when I need him and not worry he’ll push me away. It went well. I feel very grown up now.” I tip my head, smiling again. “You’ve changed me.”
Those chiseled features soften. “How did I do that?”
“You taught me how to stand up for myself. How to be honest with the people around me. I used to be a real chickenshit. But you make me feel strong and—”
He kisses me.
It comes out of nowhere. Dare I say, reminiscent of the old Aaron days, but at least Tate’s tongue is still in his mouth. He presses his lips to mine in a soft caress before pulling back.
I run my fingertips over the stubble rising on his jaw. “You okay?”
“Just kiss me again,” he says, and our mouths collide. Now his tongue slides through my parted lips, bordering on desperate. His fingers are in my hair and he’s groaning against my lips. There’s an urgency there, a thick thread of emotion wrapping around the two of us, and I realize both our hearts are engaged.
I pull back and the words just slip out.
“I love you.”
His eyelids pop open. “What?”
“I know I said a lot of things before. That I didn’t want a relationship. This would end in September. There was no pressure. I know I said all those things. But something’s changed. I don’t know how, but it just has, and now I’m in love with you.” I gulp, staring at my hands. They’re trembling. “You told me to talk about my feelings. Those are my feelings. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
My gaze flies to his. “You do?”
“I do. I’ve known for a while. Just didn’t have the balls to tell you.”
“Wait, so I’m suddenly dropping feelings bombs and you’re holding them in? Is that what you’re saying? We’ve switched places?”
“Something like that.” With an indecipherable look, Tate strokes my cheek. Then he brings my face toward him, and his lips touch mine in an infinitely gentle kiss.
But this kiss …
It doesn’t feel right.
A drop of moisture splashes the tip of my nose and I look up in confusion. Tate’s blinking rapidly. He drags the side of his thumb over his eye.
“What’s going on?” I ask uneasily.
“I don’t want it to end either,” he confesses, emotion creasing his features.
Joy flickers through me. “Okay, good—”
“—but it has to,” he finishes, his voice a scant whisper.
My heart sinks like a stone to the pit of my stomach. “W-why?” I stammer.
“You asked how it went with my parents.” He lets out a breath. “They worked through the affair. Mom forgave him a long time ago. All these years of being disgustingly in love, it wasn’t fake. They are in love. They love each other a lot, in fact.”
“That’s good, no?”
“It’s great. And I understand my dad’s reasons for what he did. That’s not to say I condone his actions. He was wrong. He did a shitty thing and he hurt her. But she forgave him. Their marriage is rock solid.”
“This is all good, Tate…”
“Dad and I had a moment alone and talked about our own stuff, too. Worked through some shit. I’m going to sail to New Zealand.”
I nod, the dots suddenly connecting in my head. “I see. And you think it has to end with us because you’re leaving for three months—”
“No, that’s not it.”
I rub the bridge of my nose. I’m so confused. “I don’t get what’s happening right now.”
“I spoke to my mother alone too.”
“Okay…” None of this is making sense yet.
“She forgave him,” Tate reiterates, his voice breaking slightly, “but that doesn’t mean she needs to be reminded of it every single day.”
A sick sensation crawls into my stomach and wraps around my intestines. “And I’m a reminder of it,” I whisper.
He nods. Agony flashing in his eyes.
“We talked for a while. Mom never wanted to know who he had the affair with, but she knows now. She knows it’s your mother. She admitted it’ll be hard to see you if you and I were together, if we were a couple.”
I feel the tears coming. I briefly close my eyes, hoping to ward off the onslaught. I can’t even blame Gemma for this. That’s the worst part. I understand. Of course she doesn’t want this reminder. Every time her son brings his girlfriend home, she has to be reminded that her husband cheated on her? With the girlfriend’s mother?
“I can’t do that to my mom,” Tate says hoarsely. “I love you, Cass. I do. But I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing I was hurting my own mother. I can’t do that to her.”
His jaw is working. Throat squeezing as he swallows repeatedly. He looks so upset.
I reach for his hand, lacing our fingers together. “It’s okay. I understand.”
“I’m so sorry.” Sheer misery hangs from every word.
“You can’t bring home the girl whose mother almost destroyed their marriage. It’s going to be a dark cloud over our entire relationship going forward, especially if your mother can’t get past it. There’s no silver lining.” My bottom lip starts quivering. I bite hard on it. I don’t want to cry. “So I guess this is goodbye.”
“Guess so.” His voice cracks again, and so does a piece of my heart.
“I had a good summer,” I tell him.
“Best summer of my life.”
I smile. His eyes are looking a little misty again. Mine are rapidly following suit. I can barely see him now, my vision is so blurry. We’re both weepy, and I know if I sit here any longer, I’ll break.
“I’m glad I met you, ginger.”
“Glad I met you too, Gate.”
I leave him there on the dock. I don’t know how my legs manage to carry me all the way into the house. But somehow I make it. Even in my bedroom I continue to fight the tears, because what if he’s in his room now and we pass our windows at the same time, so I step into the bathroom and sit on the edge of the tub. And only then do I cry.