Maybe it was because they weren’t walls so much as mounds. The truth is, I want him to break through and come to me. I want us to … be something—anything—because I love him.
We may have changed, but my feelings haven’t.
This is why I really shouldn’t be his friend.
Because I will always want more.
I feel so alone, and I need my best friend. “Ellie, there’s so much that I want to say … that I … can’t …”
She places her hand on mine. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Syd. I’m not stupid. I know that you love him and he loves you. It’s clear to anyone who has eyes, for that matter, but you’re leaving, and ... he’s bullheaded.”
And I’m having a baby.
I glance back over to him, but he’s turned so I can just make out his profile. He’s deep in conversation with Connor, and I wonder if it’s anything like this one.
I turn back to Ellie who watches me with kindness. “I know, and one day, my heart will listen to everything my head is saying.”
Chapter Seventeen
Declan
My body is tight like a bow. The concert is great. After my tongue lashing from Connor about being a better man regarding Sydney, I pulled back and now I feel like I’m drowning.
I’m standing on the other side of Connor and Ellie, working hard to focus on Emily Young’s voice and songs instead of how much prettier Sydney is.
I fail at accomplishing this task.
Instead of being lost in the lyrics of whatever horrible misfortune this country singer is telling, I watch Syd swaying gently to the music. Her blonde hair falls in waves down her back and reminds me of wheat in the wind, moving as though it can’t resist.
I want to run my fingers through the silky strands and feel her body against mine, but that would be wrong on so many levels.
Still, I move toward her, and then I hear my brother. “Don’t do it, Dec,” Connor says quietly as he holds Ellie protectively in front of him.
My heart stops, and I stay in place. I can’t do it. He’s right. It would undo all the progress we made today.
The lights go down and just a single spotlight stays on Emily. “I’d like to sing a song that you might know. I wrote it when I was head over heels in love with a man who wouldn’t make up his mind. Anyone know someone like that?” The crowd hoots and claps. “I thought you might. Anyway, I loved him, and I knew he loved me, but I couldn’t handle the pain of him rejecting me each time we got close.”
Jesus.
I want to flee, but my feet stay rooted.
Emily laughs softly and then smiles. “Cooper and I got married about two years ago, in case you were wonderin’. So don’t give up on the right one, y’all. But don’t let him call you darlin’ if he ain’t going to stick around.”
She starts to strum her guitar, and Sydney turns to me. The questions in her eyes as she moves to stand in front of me make me want to rip my heart from my chest because the ache is too great. Sydney doesn’t look at anyone else, and my resolve cracks. Every reason I’ve been clinging to fades away. “Do you want to dance?”
She nods.
I hear my brother make a noise and pretend I didn’t. She said yes, and I’m going to cling to that.
Here might be the last time I ever get to hold her in my arms, and I’m going to take it.
“I love this song.”
I love you.
“Why is that?” I ask.
Her arms move to my chest, and I wonder if she can feel the pounding of my heart. My nerves are bowstrings, being pulled taut before the arrow is ready to fly. Everything inside of me is strained, but I keep it together.
Sydney and I move, the world falling away as it always does when I am with her. Gone is the hurt of my past, the uncertainty of my present, and the regret of the future ahead. Right now, I have her.
She’s here, in my arms, where she’s meant to be.
I don’t care if the sky lights on fire because she’s all I see.
“Listen to her.” Sydney’s voice is quiet and pensive. “Listen to her talk about him giving up and her asking him to stay.”
And I do. I hear the words, and I swear that she’s singing to us.
“Don’t tell me it’s too late,” Emily croons.
“I won’t give up that easy.
Don’t call me darlin’ and tell me that you’re leavin’.
Don’t walk away.
Stop pushing me when you know you want to hold on.
It could be so easy for us, baby.
I’ve been here, but you don’t see me.
Don’t let go if you’re not ready for me to walk away.” The acoustic guitar takes over as her voice drifts off.
“Syd,” I say her name as both a plea to let go and hold on.
Her hands grip my shirt tighter. “Don’t. Don’t let go. Don’t push me away.”
I see the tears in her eyes. I don’t want to push her away. I want to hold her close, kiss her senseless, and love her until she knows it in every fiber of her being that she’s everything I want.
I see her. I feel her. I know her in my bones, but I won’t be able to be who she needs.
No matter how much I wish it weren’t the case, I can’t give her the life she wants with a husband and babies. All I can offer her is a friendship that has an expiration date because once my six-months is up and she has moved, I know I won’t allow myself to see her again.
The song ends, and the two of us stop moving, just watching the other.
The spell that was surrounding us seems to break and awareness fills her gaze. Her fingers loosen and
