Wasted Words (33 page)

“Maybe.”

“You know,” she said, “I admire you for so much — your brains, your skills, your … I don’t know. Energy. But you’re not always right, and you’re not right about this.” She watched me for a second. “You need to talk to him, but this time you actually need to say something. You need to come clean all the way down to your toes, bare it all.”

Hope sprang in my chest at the thought of telling him, of letting it go. “How’d you get to be so smart?”

“Years of being stupid and learning from it. Will he be home tonight?”

“He’s leaving for Nebraska today.”

She shook her head. “I really think you should talk to him before he leaves.”

“Like, call him? I don’t know if we should do that over the phone.”

“Like, get out of here and go talk to him. You’re no use to me like this anyway. Nobody likes a sad bartender. Grumpy, maybe. But sad? Definitely not. Go home. Talk to him. Tell him
why
. Make it right before he leaves town for the weekend, or you’ll end up driving yourself crazy.”

“After last night …” I paused. “I promised him I’d let it go, Rose. How can I bring it up again?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think you can let it go until you tell him every fear you have, every hurt, all of it.”

“Neither do I.”

She sighed. “He’s right — he can only do so much. You’ve got to do the rest.” She sat up a little straighter and leaned on her desk. “All right, I have a new job for you today. First, go by
Cake on the way home and get a cupcake. Get two, if the spirit moves you. Second, eat the damn cupcake and think about what you’re going to say. Third, go home and find a way to tell him everything.”

I looked away, staring at nothing in particular. “It’s so simple. I wish I’d told him before, but I just … I don’t know. I never talk about Will. I hate that it happened to me, and I’m ashamed of it, you know? It’s one of those things that you replay over and over again, the thing I can’t let go. My biggest regret. And to tell him about Kyle too? I don’t even know how he’s going to react, on top of the fact that I’m about to break my promise and try to talk to him about my doubts again.”

“But this is the last time. If you take him a cupcake too, it might make things easier for you. Just saying.”

I smiled, though it slipped. “I don’t feel right leaving you solo today.”

She raised a brow. “Would it make you feel better if I promise to call you if I need you?”

“Only if you mean it.”

“My definition of need is maybe different from yours, but I mean it. If I really need you, I’ll call you.”

I drew in a long breath and let it out. “Thanks, Rose.”

Her face was soft, and she stood, pulling me into a hug. “You can do this. I know you can.”

I found confidence, already thinking about how I’d tell him. Dread rolled through me, wondering if he’d be angry that I was still hung up on it, wondering what he’d say.

 
Just talk to him.
 

So I’d tell him about Kyle. About Will. I’d tell him about the rules, my hurt, as much as I didn’t want to, as much as it would hurt. And maybe with that admission, I could let it go. It was my last stand, and as I headed to pick up cupcakes, I hoped that it would be enough.

Tyler

I smiled down at my clothes, neatly stacked in piles on my bed next to my duffle bag, feeling happier than I had in a long, long time.
 

The memory of Cam in my arms was still fresh, the smell of her somehow all over me. I glanced down at her ring, the flash of silver on my pinkie, reminding me of her smile, of her promise. The feeling that the worst was behind us washed over me again, a sweet relief. My soul had had enough angst.

I was happy to move on, hand in hand with her, and I had the fleeting thought of forever.
 

I smiled wider, brushing the thought away playfully, hoping I was right as I packed my bag, stuffing the gifts for my sisters and mom between the stacks.

The thought of sleeping without Cam for the next few nights wasn’t appealing, and I downright loathed the fact that I was leaving so soon after last night. I replayed it in my mind, as I had been all morning, hitting all the high points. Her smile. Her laugh. Her body. Her words.

After all of that, after bearing my heart to her, it was undeniable. She had to know. She had to believe. And she promised we were moving on.

I heard the front door open, and my brow quirked when I glanced at the clock. I’d been minutes away from leaving, planning on swinging by the bar on my way to surprise her and say goodbye.

Cam appeared in my doorway, looking small, and I smiled, confused.

“Hey,” I said, hands stilling. “What are you doing home?”

She rolled one shoulder in a shrug, a smile on her face with a hint of uncertainty. “Rose gave me the day off.”

“Why?” I asked thickly, still not understanding what was going on.

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again.

Nerves pricked the back of my neck. “What’s wrong, Cam?”

Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth. “I’ve been thinking—”

“You think too much.” It was a quiet joke that wasn’t at all a joke. My heart ticked up a notch.

“I know. I just think we need to talk—”

“Cam,” I interrupted, my voice low. “You promised.”

She nodded. “I know I did, and I meant it.”

My hands were ice cold, my brow dropping. “But here you are, not even twelve hours later, wanting to talk?” Frustration rolled through me like a storm. “Twice you’ve tried to leave me. Twice in one week. If this makes the third, I can’t … I don’t …”
 

“If we could just talk about it—”

“I don’t know what else there is to say. I know I said I’d be there for you, that I’d have your back but I can’t do this alone. You’re out to protect yourself, but what about me? Do I still just have to keep getting hurt, over and over again? I’ve done everything I know to do to reassure you, Cam. Everything. But even after last night, even after …” I swallowed hard, forcing the emotion back down. “After everything, you still doubt me.”

Her eyes shone with tears. “It’s not that easy for me, Tyler. I’m scared, and this is how I really feel. I know it’s annoying, I know you don’t want to talk about it. But you can’t just kiss it away like you do because it won’t stay gone. We just need to talk—”

“No,” I shot, hands shaking. “No more talking. I can’t talk anymore, Cam. I can’t just keep hashing it out, over and over. I’ve done everything I can to convince you. Everything. And you still don’t believe me. I’ve got nothing left to give. You promised, Cam.
You promised.
”

Her brow dropped. “This isn’t fair, Tyler. I told you from the beginning that I was crazy. You know me, maybe better than anyone. How do you of all people not understand?”

“Fair?” The word was tight and low, full of my hurt. “After all of this, you say I’m not being
fair?
”

“Well, you’re not! You won’t even talk to me!”

“Because we’ve already fucking talked about it, and I’m done.”

Her face bent in pain, chin quivering. “I just wanted to explain myself. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Too late.” I took a breath and grabbed a stack of clothes, shoving them into my bag haphazardly.

“Tyler—”

“Stop.” My voice boomed, louder than I meant, and she jolted at the sound. I took a shuddering breath, clenching my fist, letting it go, willing myself to calm down. “I get it. You’re right. I can’t drag you into this. I can’t force you to care. I can’t make you let me in. This is on you.” I shoved another stack of clothes in, then my shaving kit, heart banging, palms sweating. “I can’t do this with you.”

Her breath caught. “Now? Or ever?”

“I don’t know. I’ve got to go.”
 

I zipped up my bag and picked it up, trying to breathe, but the air caught in my lungs like sandpaper when I saw her standing there, small and scared. My pulse raced in my ear, a thump and a whoosh, then another as I fumbled through my thoughts, watching her there in front of me, everything I ever wanted, everything I couldn’t have. I wanted to pick her up and hold her, tell her I needed her. But I’d already done that very thing. The only thing left to do was let her go. So I swallowed the words I wanted to say and did just that.

Cam

THE DOOR SLAMMED HARD ENOUGH to make me jump, snapping me out of the haze as I stood in the corner of Tyler’s room.

I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to think, only wanted to feel the hollow in my chest. He’d taken my heart out the door with him.

I made it across the few steps to his bed and sank onto it, staring at nothing. And then, the tears came — confused tears that burned my eyes and nose, tears that left me with sobs that tore out of my throat, unwanted, unbidden.
 

I was too late. I’d lost him.

He was right, about everything. I’d hurt him, and I’d only keep hurting him. I’d had it all, and I pushed him too far. I should have told him about everything long before, but I didn’t think it would matter so much. If I’d only realized it did. If only I’d talked to him about what mattered from the start.
 

If only.

He was right, but he was wrong. I was right, but I was wrong.
 

Nothing made any sense anymore.

It was a long while before my tears ran dry, and I lay curled on top of Tyler’s comforter, trying not to think about how it smelled like him. Trying not to think about what would happen when he came back. Would we actually talk? Or would he leave? Move out? And then, after that, would I ever see him again?

The thought ripped through me, tears I thought were dry springing up, fresh and new. I didn’t know how I could ever be without him. And as happy as he’d made me, I regretted doing it. Because now … now he was gone, maybe forever.

I sniffled and picked up my glasses, slipping them back onto my nose before I hauled myself out of his bed. I stood idly in the living room, not knowing what to even do with myself, finally deciding to lie on the couch. I grabbed a soft, furry throw blanket and lay down, curling up into a ball. I turned on a Warpaint
album, letting the moody sound fill the room and my empty chest, not planning on moving. Maybe ever.

Every moment with Tyler played through my mind, memory after memory. I lay there for hours like that, listening to the album on repeat, lost in my thoughts. Sometimes tears would fall. Sometimes I would lie still and quiet, staring at nothing. Sometimes I would close my eyes and picture him walking through the door, telling me he’d never give up.

My stomach rumbled, and I rolled off the couch, wrapped in the blanket like a burrito, my legs stiff as I shuffled into the dark kitchen. I flicked on the light over the stove and saw the box of cupcakes, immediately certain that they were the best dinner I could possibly ask for.

Three gigantic cupcakes later, I was really glad I’d gotten half a dozen, barely noticing the crumbs down the front of me as I licked my fingers with a sigh, staring at the fridge across from me. It was covered with pictures — Tyler and me at football games, Tyler wearing a pink, ruffly apron, holding a pie, me dressed up at ComicCon. There were ticket stubs from games too, and the Nebraska football schedule, right next to the Iowa schedule. The rest of the space was filled with poetry magnets. A haiku Tyler wrote about beer.
 

I took a breath. I let it out. Then I did it again. It was all I could manage.

I knew I needed a distraction, but I could think of nothing that sounded appealing. Everywhere I looked, he was there — his shoes next to the couch, his jacket hanging on its peg on the wall. And when it wasn’t something of his, it was something that reminded me of him. The stack of books on the shelf under the coffee table — the books he’d rejected. Sitting on top of the table was
The Hobbit,
and I realized he must have left it by accident in his rush to leave.

I wanted to pick it up, but I couldn’t. As if touching it would summon even more memories of him.

I grabbed my speaker and shuffled into my room, closing the door. At least in there, everything was mine — the only thing he’d affected was my bed. As I climbed in, I could smell him again on my extra pillow, on my sheets, on my blanket. Everywhere. But after a while, I’d stop noticing it. It would stop hurting.

Or at least that’s what I hoped.

I clicked on the light and picked up my book, finding the words truer than ever, the sting of the loss through the women in
Mists of Avalon
even greater than my own, which brought me comfort, however small it was. And at some point, late in the night, I drifted off into fitful sleep.

Tyler

I STARED OUT THE WINDOW of the airplane with my headphones in, watching the earth come closer in increments, trying not to think about Cam.

It was impossible, of course — she’d been on my mind since I’d walked out the door. Since before that. Since ever.
 

The rejection I felt was absolute.
 

I thought back over our argument, feeling the pang of hurt deepen. I hated that it went down like it had. I hated that she still wasn’t sure. I
 
hated that I didn’t know how much more I could take.

She made a promise she couldn’t keep. I should never have asked it of her. Of course, I’d promised her my patience, and I hadn’t been able to give that to her in the end. But it was too much.
 

The metal ring around on my finger was warm, the same temperature as my skin, like it was a part of me — I twisted it over and over again as I had been for the last hour, feeing lost. Helpless.
 

I understood though why she needed control. Life was so much easier when there was something you could fix. Handle. But I knew from experience that the greatest, hardest lesson was that you can’t control anything but how you react. I knew I couldn’t control Cam, and I didn’t want to. But there was nothing I could do for us except walk away. No amount of talking could fix it. No amount of begging.