We Are Us

I turn my gaze back to Gavin. This sight of him hurts. Oh God, how it hurts. His soldier’s body is tense and taut beneath his simple clothes, his face the embodiment of nobility and steadfastness. Life with Gavin would be simpler, maybe even easier. But making the choice to diverge from the path I’ve taken is not at all simple, not at all easy.

I accepted Tucker’s proposal; I have promised him my future. I won’t abandon him. Not even for Gavin.

The waxed, parquet floor has turned to mud beneath me, sucking at my heels and squishing between my toes, but I know what I have to do. The past ten years have taught me that not all risks are rewarded and reckless decisions always come with consequences. Harsh, corrosive consequences.

I’ve learned my lesson. I am taking the safe road, clinging to the highest ground.

Gavin abandoned me once before, and I will not give him the chance to do it again.

Which is why I have to cut the cord between Gavin and I once and for all. I have to, for us. If there’s any hope of keeping our memories intact, of not ruining our beautiful past with the bitterness of our current reality.

My body is a vault of sadness, filled with nothing but heart-breaking, soul-crushing loss, invisible atoms of wrenching pain tearing me apart. I would give anything to avoid it, to spare Gavin from it, but this is our path. And it ends here. It has to.

“No, Gavin. We were just kids, daydreaming. You don’t even know me anymore.”

“I do. I know you and I want you and I love you. Come with me, Poppy.” He reaches for my hand. “Come with me, we’ll—”

“No!” I wrench away from him, gathering all of my resolve to say what needs to be said. “I don’t love you anymore, Gavin. I’m sorry.” Shit. Shit. No, don’t believe me. Please, don’t believe me.

“You’re lying. Why are you lying?”

He knows. Of course, he knows. “I’m not. And you have to leave.” Before I give in and cause us even more pain, even more heartache.

Gavin’s shoulders slump, his military bearing failing him as sadness pulls at his features. “Do you remember that day in the woods? The spring of our freshman year, and we were choosing our electives for fall. I told you I wanted to become an FBI agent…”

I cross my arms warding off the memories. No. Don’t do this. Don’t take me back into the woods. Don’t make me remember us.

But Gavin continues anyway. “A thunder storm rolled in and I walked you home. Do you remember what you said to me?”

Yes. A shudder goes through me as I exhale. “No.”

“You said, ‘I might need you to rescue me one day.’” Unshed tears sting my eyes and I bite down on the inside of my cheek until the taste of copper fill my mouth. Do not cry. Do not break down. “That day is today. Let me take you away from all this. Let me rescue you.”

The question is like a trip wire, flipping a switch deep inside me. Gavin has no idea how many times I prayed for him to do just that—to appear, like some kind of mythical knight on a white horse, and spirit me away from the clutches of a nightmare.

When he finally did, it was just for a short visit. A few hours. Long enough to catch up. But not long enough to be my hero.

And now, he’s too late.

A sudden, bitter laugh rips from my throat. “You want to be my hero… now?” I spin away from him, striding toward the floor-to-ceiling windows framing the impressive architectural sprawl of Manhattan. But I’m not really looking at the view. My eye is still turned inward, remembering a time when I did need rescuing, desperately.

“Yes. If you let me, yes. But you can’t— You can’t marry him, Poppy.”

I swallow a scream of regret and turn back around, facing Gavin once again. Maybe for the last time. “I can and I will.” There is more distance between us now, though the room is crowded with hurt and recriminations. “When I needed you, you weren’t there. So you don’t get to wear a cape now, show up at the last second and save the day. You’re no hero, Gavin. Not mine, anyway.”