“Chelsea…” His voice is raw with anguish as he rushes to me, and I reach for him without thinking.
He grasps me around the waist, letting his head drop onto my shoulder and his whole body sag against mine. I wind my arms up and around his neck and head, kissing his hair and just holding him there.
My chest is so tight that it’s hard to breathe. I feel a million things. It’s a chaotic mixture of biting cold and searing heat, stuttering joy and deep despair, sordid victory and crushing guilt. I swallow back the swirling emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
He is shaking and shuddering, and I just hold him as tightly as I can, trying to take it all in, take it all away so he’ll be okay.
It physically hurts to see him in so much pain, but I am so relieved to see him at all that I can’t even rouse my panic from Friday night, when I was scared he’d fallen too far. I’m in it now, too, in deep and along for wherever this ride is going. I squeeze my eyes shut and just hang on.
When he’s finally calm enough to speak, we move to the sofa. He clutches my hand like I might disappear if he lets go.
“I had to see you,” he says desperately. “Please don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad,” I say honestly, shaking my head.
“I’m so fucked up over you, Chelsea. I’ve been going out of my mind today.” He stares into my eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”
I squeeze his hand as an uncharacteristic calm settles over me while I study him. It’s like my body is responding to his distress with a balancing force, like I’m the yin to his yang. “Tell me what’s going on.”
He rubs his forehead then jumps up and resumes pacing. “I know we had an agreement. I know it can’t work between us. I know I’m leaving. But I—” He cuts himself off, as if he doesn’t dare say the words. He studies the ceiling, like he’s searching for strength, then looks back at me. “It’s crazy. It’s absurd, and itmakes no sense.” He stops, dropping down to his knees before me.
I freeze and take in a breath, my heart pounding like mad.
“I love you, Chelsea,” he says shakily. “I’m in love with you.”
And there it is.
He watches me so closely, his hands braced on either side of my legs, his heart braced to see my reaction. Time seems to slow and stretch as we sit there, locked in a charged stillness. He is so open and vulnerable, so young and sweet, and I feel a ferocious burst of protectiveness flare inside me.
I’ve done enough. I’d sooner cut off my own arm than hurt this man any more. But he still might not like what I have to say. I lean in, cupping both his cheeks. “Julian.” I take a shaky breath as my heart stutters.
His eyes are shining.
“I love you too.” And I mean it.
He exhales as though he’s been holding his breath all day, shoulders slumping in relief as he brings his hands to cover mine on his face. “You do?” His voice is choked with emotion.
I nod, flooded with relief of my own as I see the pain and tension drain from him. “God, yes. I care so much about you, Julian. I think you’re insanely attractive and also passionate, funny, and… well, just incredible. I haven’t found anything about you that I don’t love.” It’s so liberating to speak my truth and tell him how I feel. Like being set free from a cage.
He gapes at me with a mixture of astonished joy and terrified longing. Like he doesn’t want to acknowledge the “but” that we both know is coming.
I decide to avoid that word. “Do you want to know how Idefinelove, Julian?” I ask.
He rises from the floor to sit on the couch next to me and nods warily. “Yes.”
I pause. “To me, love is… a deep, powerful desire for the well-being of another person.”
He seems thoughtful, considering my words carefully.
“It’s really not about me or what I get from it. I might get to enjoy this person, spend time with him. Make love to him.” I swallow, my throat tight. “Or I might not.”
He closes his eyes as his face falls. My eyes fill with tears as my calm facade starts to crumble.
“I can’t let you throw your future away—I won’t.” My voice cracks. So does something inside me.
He grabs me and pulls me close, and we’re both sobbing. We cry because it hurts. Because it’s unfair and frustrating, and damnable, and… undeniable. There is only one path, and we have to take it, even though it hurts like hell.
He grips my shoulders and holds me away from him. “But if we love each other, doesn’t that mean we should be together?” he asks desperately, searching my eyes. “Shouldn’t we do anything and everything it takes to make it work?”
