17. Tanner

SEVENTEEN

TANNER

I open my eyes, seeing the early morning sun peeking through the window. Memories from last night gradually come back to me as I wake. Grace telling me she was mine. Feeling completely out of control as I fucked her until it felt like I couldn't possibly get any deeper. The way she sounded as I took her in a way that was so rough, I almost forgot about her pleasure because all I could focus on was my own.

My cock begins to harden at the thought, and it's then that I realize I'm still inside her. It's been hours since we fell asleep, but I'm still nestled between her thighs, my now semi-hard dick hugged between her silky pussy lips. Without meaning to, my hips thrust forward just slightly, making her whimper in her sleep.

We didn't even pull up the blankets because we were both too weak and drained to move, so I have a clear view of her body as I look down. But as soon as I do, I wish I hadn't.

The first things I notice are the small bruises on her hip. My eyes widen in horror as they move lower, seeing another large, angry bruise in the shape of a hand across her ass. And when I pull myself out of her, eliciting another pained whine from her sleeping body, I realize what I've done .

I hurt Grace.

I was supposed to protect her, and I fucking hurt her .

I scramble off the bed, standing over her with my hands gripping my hair. I'm so fucking pissed at myself for losing control and not being more careful. I'm no better than any of the other guys I was worried about her being with, and that's very evident by the marks that are marring her beautiful body right now. Marks that I put there. I told her she'd be safe with me. Clearly, she isn't.

Fuck. I hate myself.

She stirs, turning onto her back and I can see the moment the pain hits her because her brows pull in and her eyes flutter open. I should be comforting her and apologizing profusely, but all I can do is take a step backward, away from the bed.

"I lost control," I choke out, gripping the back of my neck. "I'm sorry."

She sits up, lifting her butt off the bed to see the damage I've done. Her hand trails down, gently rubbing over the marks before she looks up at me. "I'm okay. It doesn't hurt that bad."

I shake my head in disbelief, because there's no way she's telling the truth. The bruises are a deep purple with shades of red and blue around the edges, and the sight makes me want to fucking puke. The more I look at them, the worse they get.

I reach down to the floor, pick up my clothes, and quickly get dressed. Grace must be able to see the panic on my face because she shoots up to her knees, crawls across the mattress, and stands up in front of me.

"Tan, seriously. I'm fine. I wanted it. I liked it ." She reaches for my hand, and I let her because I'm spiraling and I need the connection. Her touch grounds me even though I know I don't deserve it. She should be so pissed at me right now.

I feel tears prick at the backs of my eyes, but I blink them away because this isn't about me. It should've never been about me. I sink down to my knees next to her, gently ghosting my lips along the marks. "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry," I whisper between kisses. She runs her hands through my hair, massaging my scalp as if she knows I need comforting right now, too.

"Look at me," she says softly. I obey, bringing my eyes up to hers. "I'm okay. Please don't treat me differently because of this, Tanner. I've loved everything you've done to me. I don't regret a single thing." She cradles my face in her hands, looking down at me with one hundred percent sincerity, but I still have a nagging voice in the back of my head telling me I fucked up by losing control with her. Maybe I just need a minute to clear my head, so I don't feel so messed up over it.

I grab her underwear and shorts from the floor, lifting each of her ankles and helping her step into them. I very carefully pull them up her legs, covering the bruises on her body so they're out of sight. I stand, helping her into her bra and tank top before weaving my fingers gently through her hair and dropping my lips to hers. The kiss clears my racing thoughts just enough so that I can take a deep breath, inhaling her scent and recentering myself.

In an attempt to distract myself even more, I remember our conversation from the dock. "You wanted to tell me something before I interrupted you last night. What was it?"

She looks confused for a few seconds, then the imaginary light bulb blinks above her head and she hits me with the most adorable smile. "Oh, yeah," she says. "So, I've been thinking about California,"

I groan. "I was hoping if we ignored its existence, it would just go away."

She giggles. "Well, I very much doubt you could make an entire state disappear, but what if I told you we could just pretend like it isn't there…ever?"

"What do you mean?" I say, genuinely confused .

"I mean, I don't think I want to go anymore. I want to stay here. With you."

I freeze.

Fuck.

This is exactly what I didn't want to happen when Grace and I started this arrangement. I was acting on impulse when I proposed it, and my only concern was keeping her away from anyone who could hurt her. But after last night, I realize I can't even be trusted not to.

I've known for weeks that she was falling for me, but I didn't do a single thing to stop it. Why? Because I'm a selfish motherfucker and I didn't want to let her go. I wanted to keep her until the very last minute we had together.

Because I'm falling for her, too.

But I can't let her give up CCA to follow me around to wherever I get drafted. I'd love to play for the Boston Blizzard. It's my dream to never have to leave home. But what happens if I end up somewhere else? What if I get drafted to some team down south and she ends up spending half the year alone, wondering if I'm staying faithful? I'd never even think of looking at another woman, but I know how rough life can be for the significant others of pro athletes, and I can't do that to Grace. She'd live in a constant state of worry, then end up resenting me because I was the reason she didn't chase her dreams in LA. She's better than that. The world deserves to see her talent and wear her clothing. She has to go.

"You can't just give up your dream and stay here because of me," I say.

She gives me a hopeful smile, and my fucking heart begins to crack in my chest. "I wouldn't. I'd just take some time off to figure out which school I'd go to here. I declined my acceptances from MCA and the New York Fashion Institute, but I'm sure I can call and get waitlisted for next semester. I want to be with you. Like, for real."

I take a step back, because hearing those words from her lips is simultaneously the most beautiful and heartbreaking experience of my life, and all I want to do is pull her into my arms and never let go. But I can't. I have to give her a chance to live her life without being held back.

On top of that, I'm not even confident in my ability to keep her safe anymore. She trusted me with her body and now she's covered in marks because I was selfish and took what I wanted without making sure she was okay. Who's to say that it won't happen again? I was so afraid she'd put herself in danger with some random guy in LA, but then I turned around and did it on my own. She's better off with them. Away from me.

I have to make her go.

"Grace," I say, swallowing thickly. "That's not what this is." Her face falls and I feel like I'm going to vomit, but I keep going. Focusing on the wall behind her, because I'm a fucking coward and can't look her in the eye as I rip her heart out, I continue. "We were just having fun for the summer," I choke out, silently begging the burning at the backs of my eyes to go away.

"You're lying," she whispers, tears welling up before they fall down her sun kissed cheeks. "I feel what you feel every time you kiss me. You love me. And I love you, too."

I clear my throat, praying that I can get my next words out without my voice giving everything away. Because she's fucking right. I love her. But she'll never know it because I have no choice but to end this in a way that's so hurtful, she won't think twice about leaving here and going after the future she's wanted since her parents bought her her first sewing machine for her eighth birthday.

"I don't love you," I say, doing my best to harden my voice so she believes me. My throat dries as if it's trying to fight the lie as I force it out, but I continue. "I'm about to be drafted into the NFL. The best I can offer is a quick fuck when I'm in town, but other than that, I don't have room for anything else. Go live your life. I'll go live mine."

When she doesn't say anything, I bring my eyes back to her face and that's when I feel it. My heart shatters in my chest as I take in the sight in front of me. The woman I love is standing there, her face crumpled as a stream of tears falls from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks and soaking into her shirt. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her stomach, as if she's trying to shield herself from the pain. Her whole body shakes and her bottom lip quivers while she holds back her sobs, but she says nothing.

Every instinct in me is telling me to take it all back. To comfort her and protect her from this heartbreak, even though I'm the one that's causing it. Watching her as she stands there, frozen in place as I make her feel like she means nothing to me is the hardest thing I've ever done, and I hate myself so much for it. But I'm doing this for her…so she can have everything she's ever wanted out of life. And so she can find someone who will love her and keep her safe in ways that I clearly can't.

"Tanner, please," she pleads so quietly, I barely hear her. But she may as well be screaming with the agony it makes me feel. I can't fucking take this. I have to go.

"Goodbye, Grace. Good luck in California," I say, giving in and letting a single tear fall before I turn and walk out of the lighthouse as fast as I can, hearing her bare feet slapping against the hardwood as she chases after me. It's not until I get to my car and open the door that I turn to see her running toward me.

"Tanner! Don't go! Please! Please," she cries as she blows through the door. She winces and stumbles when the sharp gravel digs into the skin on the bottom of her feet, but she doesn't slow down. Tears flow freely down her face as she stretches out her arm for me, and I have to fight back my sobs at the sight. I almost cave and rush toward her so I can put us both out of this misery, but I don't. Instead, I drop down into the driver's seat and slam the door, turning on the engine and reversing as quickly as I can. Whipping the car around, I speed off, finally allowing myself to break down as soon as I'm sure she can't see me. Unable to stop myself, I glance up at the rearview mirror and watch as the love of my life breaks into a million shattered pieces outside the very lighthouse where she gave me everything.