"I get it. I know you're not making excuses, but I get it." Ren continued toward me. "God, Ivy . . ."
"I don't want your pity or for you to tell me it wasn't my fault. That's not why I told you." My back hit the wall behind me and the pain of that throbbed inside me. "So don't lie to me."
"Okay. I won't lie to you." When I started to sidestep him, he caught my hands and held them between us. "You made a shit choice when you were seventeen years old. God knows I made some shit choices when I was that age."
"It's not the same."
"It's not? My best friend was killed and I did next to nothing to stop it. No," he interrupted when I started to disagree. "You can't tell me my situation is different, and I have no reason to feel guilt over what happened to my friend if you can't forgive yourself. Maybe neither of us can truly forgive ourselves. Sometimes we do things or we enable things to happen that we can never go back and change. Maybe our shit choices aren't truly forgivable, and the only thing we can do is learn from them and not make them again."
Breathing became hard as the knot in my throat expanded. "I . . . I've lost everyone I loved." My voice broke, and his stark expression wavered. "I've lost everyone."
"Do you really ever lose anyone, Ivy? They may be gone, but they still exist." My lips trembled as I struggled to keep myself under control. He brought my hands to his chest, above his heart. "They still live here. They always will."
I could feel the hold on my control snapping, one fragile strain at a time. I started to pull away, but he let go of my hands and clasped my upper arms. "Ren . . ."
"I'm still here." He dipped his head, his eyes meeting mine. "You haven't lost me."
"But what if—"
"Sweetness, you can't hold your life back on a bunch of what ifs. Who the hell knows what could happen? Either one of us could walk out of this house and get struck by lightning, or both of us could live until we're ninety. Tomorrow we could die or we could come back here. We don't know." Sliding his hands up to my cheeks, he lowered his forehead to mine. "But we're both here right now and that's all that matters. The right now."
"The right now?" My heart raced.
"Yeah. Right now. We're both here. That's all that matters, and I can't promise that I'm not going anywhere, but I'm going to try damn hard not to. That is one thing I'm going to tell you to trust."
A hailstorm of emotion rose up in me, like the thickest barricade finally cracking open. My face crumpled, and I couldn't stop it, didn't even try. Tears streamed down my face, and Ren made this raw sound that came from deep within him as he gathered me against his chest, tucking my head under his as he held me tight, whispering words I didn't understand but were soothing nonetheless.
I didn't know what did it—Ren saying he wasn't going anywhere or the fact that he couldn't promise that he wouldn't. He hadn't even tried, but he was here, and maybe that was what set me off.
Burrowing my face against his damp chest, I let it out. Like a plug being pulled on an overflowing tub, it was slow and choking at first, as if it would never end, then it was gone fast with a trickle of tears and a stuttered breath.
Time had passed and when I finally lifted my head, he smiled at me, one dimple appearing. He swept his thumbs over my cheeks, erasing what was left of the tears. "You're even pretty when you cry," he said.
A laugh escaped me, throaty and flimsy. "Now you're definitely lying. That was ugly crying."
"Nothing about you is ugly."
There was a lot of ugliness in me and I think he knew that, deep down, because he carried the same, but I appreciated the kindness he doled out like candy on Halloween. On the spur of the moment, I stretched up and kissed him. It was a chaste kiss, a benediction and a thank you, nothing more than a brush of my lips against his, but there was a spark between us that lit up every cell in my body, and I knew he was just as affected. A slight tremor coursed through the hands that held my cheeks. I lowered myself onto the soles of my feet and stared into his eyes as a different kind of storm sieged me.
The heat flushing through my body told me that I wanted him. Badly. My mood whiplashed me, but there was nothing I needed more than him. Surprisingly, it had nothing to do with what David had said earlier about us finding someone to spend the evening with in case we didn't survive the following night. Yeah, what I was feeling . . . it had been there before David's less than motivational speech, under my skin, building around my heart. Wetting my lips, I trailed my hands down to his hard chest, and he must've read what I wanted in my eyes.