I realise I can’t handle seeing him again as soon as the back door of the Kylemore Hotel opens and I’m forced to tighten my grip on the crate of bread in my hands. And I realise that he isn’t ready to see me again as I watch the colour drain immediately from his face when he sees me standing in front of him.
I wonder whether I’ll ever be able to move past what Silas Kylemore means to me. I wonder whether he’ll ever be able to get over what I can’t be for him.
But I’ve tried, and I’m sure he has, too. I even believed it had worked, a few times. I was convinced I’d done it, so certain I’d come out the other side, weaned myself from him. I thought I was free from us, from the memory of what I’d left behind.
“If you think I’m doing this on purpose…” I say awkwardly. I don’t want him to think I’m looking for something from him now, all these years after what I did.
“Why would I think that? You just deliver bread to the hotel.”
“Oh…” I shake my head. “Wow.”
“Wow?” he asks, confused. “Wow what?”
“I didn’t know you’d become such an arse.”
I had no idea Silas was capable of treating anyone like that, and I didn’t expect to be so hurt by it. Apparently, the years apart have changed us both irreversibly.
“I’m sorry?”
“Forget it, I’m only here for the bread.” I spit his words back at him just as bitterly, pushing past him and into the hotel kitchen. I place the bread on the counter and turn around.
“It’s been years. I was young,” I hiss, teeth gritted.
“I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.”
“Don’t be a dick just because I was the same to you, years ago.”
“You think I want to… What, get my own back?”
I’m not sure anymore; not now that I’ve seen the disappointment in his eyes, caused yet again by me.
Some things can’t be won back – not once they’re lost. Not when it’s all your fault.
“It doesn’t matter what you were. It’s been a long time.”
“Are you sure about that? Because it feels to me like it’s barely been a second.”
I shouldn’t have said that, not in that way, implying that it’s been the same for him, too. But I’m scared that it’s only felt that way for me.
I head back towards the door, ready to leave and avoid facing the significance of my own words. But when I step outside, I can’t help but stop and look back at him.
“I’m sorry I left the other day.”
“You didn’t leave, you ran away.”
His tone is hard. He doesn’t even attempt to mask it.
“Okay, so maybe I did run away.”
“Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”
I know he’s hurt, and I know I have to do something, but I can’t. Not now. Just as I couldn’t back then.
All I can do is push him away again.
“I should really…” I say, gesturing behind me.
I leave him standing in the doorway and walk over to the van, barricading myself inside and slamming my fists against the wheel. I glance over at the hotel; the door is closed now, but still I get out of the van and go back. I lift my fist to knock on the door, but anxiety grips me, closing my throat over. I let my hand fall to my side.
Backing away slowly, I decide to go back to the van; to my life without him, to my own personal torment. But the door reopens and Silas appears before my eyes.
“I was just… I was going to…”
I was going to come back inside and tell you that I’m sorry. For everything. For that night, for what I said, and for what I never had the courage to tell you, but that you deserved to hear. For all the years I kept my mouth shut and pretended you didn’t exist; for all the times I swore to myself that you didn’t totally change my life.
I’m sorry I never had the courage to love, Silas.
The courage to love you.
“Did you forget something?”
One thing.
I forgot to tell you that I never forgot a single moment between us.
“Are you okay?” he asks. I want to tell him that I’m not okay; that I haven’t been okay since we put all that distance between us. And I’m even worse now that we’re so close, just a breath away. But I can’t tell him any of that.
I’m trapped in my own memories, tangled up in regret. I’m lazy with nostalgia and bitterness. I’m in the clutches of my heart, barricaded into my mind. And I want you to set me free, once and for all. I want you to decide what to do with me, because I don’t know how to make myself forget.
I close the distance between us in an instant, his face between my hands. I press my lips against his briefly, then pull back, terrified of his reaction.
Silas’ eyes flicker onto mine; they’re so beautiful, so full and real, that I’d do anything to keep them on me.
I step closer again, breathing onto his lips, which are parted slightly, waiting for me. There’s only a moment between us; it happens again. His mouth returns to me and mine to his. He pants into my mouth, my fears melting onto his skin; memories come flooding back, opening my heart and mind. Heat, his heat; the heat of his hands sliding to the back of my neck. I feel him with my whole soul.
His tongue snakes into my mouth, his fingers entwining into my hair, goosebumps run along our skin. His body presses against mine, proving to me that he hasn’t forgotten a thing.
I’ve imagined the feeling of his mouth on mine so many times, tried to recreate the sensation of his hands on me – but this, what I’m feeling now… This torment and angst, this desire and fear; these flames licking slowly at me, this adrenaline coursing over my skin and into my bones… This, him… I could never have this, could never even imagine it, without him.
I let go slowly, my hands still on his face and his hands looped around my neck. Our breathing is heavy, our heartbeats quick, each trying to burst from our chests.
Nothing has changed. Nothing will ever change between us. Or maybe one thing has changed, and I only realise it now, with his breathing on my lips.
The way I want him has changed.
I’m not ready to tell him that. I’m not ready even to admit it to myself – and I’m afraid I never will be.
So, as only I know how, I pull away. I push him back. Even though I was the one who wanted him.
“I should really…”
What? Where do I have to go? Where could I possibly hide after this: after everything he’s brought to the surface with just one damn kiss?
“I-I’m sorry.”
His expression changes immediately.
“You’re sorry?”
His voice betrays his emotions; it betrays mine, too.
“I don’t…”
“You can’t. We both know how this story ends.”
I look at him again for a few moments, then force myself to turn around, back to the van. I force myself to run away again, knowing that there’s nowhere in the world I could ever escape to that would help me forget him.