34. Let Me In

THIRTY-FOUR

LET ME IN

Rewrite the Stars, James Arthur 3

I save the other number in this group text as Allie and add a little plane emoji next to her name since that’s the tattoo she has on her wrist. A little plane with a dotted heart. I started adding emojis next to people’s names on my phone in an attempt to connect with them deeper when I try to remember which phone number and name matches which face. Cara has a little fried egg because we met at the diner.

Me: Hey Allie, it was so nice meeting you. Didn’t know you knew Cara.

Allie?? : Same! Cara has been my best friend since we were kids. What I’d like to know is how did she keep YOU from me?

Cara??: You said, and I quote, “I don’t want to know anything about Baker Oaks.” Roe was part of that. Sorry bestie but those were your rules. Now that you’re all up in people’s business over there, we can all be friends.

Cara??: The whole reason for this convo is to talk about the hottie mechanic that you’re banging

Allie?? : I knew it!! I knew you and Thiago were more than friends like you both said.

Me: We’re not even friends so don’t get too excited. We’re just having a little fun.

Cara??: Roe, I love you but you need to stop lying to yourself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with the same person more than twice and it’s been weeks of you two hanging out, or more according to the peeps

Allie?? : I’m pretty sure I saw them at Nick’s party together too

Me: Allie, whose side are you on here?

Cara??: She should be on my side but either way I’m actually on Roe’s side here. You deserve a good man in your life and from what I hear and see, Thiago is as good as they come.

Me: It’s too late for this conversation

Cara??: It’s like 7:00pm

Me: I don’t really care. Have a good night you two.

Allie?? : Bye!

Cara??: When you’re ready to talk, we’re here. Don’t blow us off.

I put my phone down on the nightstand and walk out of the room. I can’t pay too much attention to those messages right now. I deserve a good man . That’s if I actually deserve anyone. I don’t deserve the friendships I have with Cara and Jake – hell, even Allen makes the list at this point – but no matter how far away I try to push them, they just keep coming back. I’m not sure being close to someone is worth risking their life over.

He’s sitting shirtless on the couch, reading the American Motorcyclist Association (AMA) Magazine, with his feet up on the coffee table. Fucking hell. He’s so damn hot and yes, I like him for more than his body, but what an incredible work of art his body is. And the ink just adds to the appeal. He’s not playing fair at all. Can he tell I ’ m about to break his heart? Does he realize I ’ m about to tell him that our time together is up and I have no way of fixing this?

I stand in front of him, and without looking up he says, “Looks like Jerry Britner is done for the season.” Jerry is the top rider in our class. He has been the reigning champion for years and he suffered an injury last round, which is probably the main reason why we both placed so high. He’s been managing injuries on-and-off all season and it sounds like he’s dropping. This means that we might have a shot at qualifying for regionals next summer.

Saint looks up, showing me the page that has a picture featuring the two of us at the last race with the caption, “Could Sorelle and Cruz go head-to-head to win it all?” I snatch the magazine from his hand and jump when I look at all the spotlights they did.

“We might have a chance,” I all but scream, and Saint gets up and grabs me in his arms. He picks me up by the back of my legs and spins me around. “Put me down,” I kick and shout in the middle of giggles as he grabs my ass and keeps spinning. We probably look like two teenagers, not like two whole-ass adults.

He finally puts me down, a mix of our heavy breathing and excitement filling the air. His eyes roam my face as he tucks two pieces of my hair behind my ear, whispering something. I really hope I heard him wrong. I ignore it. If I ignore it, then it won’t happen, and I don’t have to worry about breaking his heart more than I thought I was going to already. I try to turn, to get out of here, but he grabs my hand and stops me.

“Don’t walk away from me, Roe,” he pleads, his voice breaking with every syllable. He doesn’t even know what’s going through my mind but he can sense that whatever it is, it’s not great. “Please, don’t do this,” he adds.

Turning to face him, I look into his eyes and I know I’ve already lost the battle. Before the words come out of his mouth again, I know I’m screwed. I don’t only like him. I think I actually care about him which makes breaking his heart the shittiest and hardest thing I’ve ever done.

“I love you, Roe, in case you didn’t hear me the first time. Hear me loud and clear now.” His other hand holds mine, his attention exclusively on me. “Life’s too short not to tell and show others how you feel. And damn it if I don’t love you, princesa. I think I’ve loved you since the first day I met you, with your witty sass and your challenging eyes giving me a hard time over a beer.”

Against my will, my body is melting into him. Every word is a sweet caress to my soul. Healing the little parts of me that have shattered through the years. In this moment I wish I could just let him in. Especially when he brushes his lips against my forehead, kissing me gently, or when his soft chuckle reverberates through every inch of my body and soul at the end of his sentence.

He brings a hand up to my cheek and rubs small circles, adding, “I know you’ve been hurt. I don’t know exactly what happened but I can feel it in my heart. I can see it in your eyes. I know you want to push me away. But I’m here to let you know that you don’t have to hide from me. Let me see the hurt. Let me help you heal. Or at the very least, let me carry the load with you.”

I shake my head no and whisper, “There’s nothing for you to help heal, Saint. There’s no saving a soul that doesn’t exist anymore.” The tenderness of his words, his sorrow-filled eyes, and his touch burning my skin and reaching what I have left of a soul… it’s too much. I feel the last piece of the dam on my emotions break and for the first time since I was sixteen, a tear falls down my face.