Page 72 of Wild Heart

“No. Stay here. It’s the last night. Just enjoy it. I’ll be fine, but I’d rather not hurl all over the place.”

“Are you sure?”

I was going to burst into tears if I didn’t get out of here. So, I slapped on a smile and insisted, “I’m positive. You stay here and find your guy. Tonight could be your night.”

“I won’t hold my breath. Okay. Call me if you need me.”

As quickly as I could, I made my way to the exit. And by the time I made it outside, I scanned the area for any sign of Tate. I had to know. I had to be sure.

Then I saw him, and it was like I’d been stabbed through the heart. He was walking with Francesca, her arm linked through his, and they were making their way toward the cabins.

I slowly descended the stairs, careful to keep my balance while I watched them go. The chalet was in the opposite direction, but I didn’t go that way. I stayed where I was and watched the man that I loved enter one of those cabins with a woman who wasn’t me. I moved to the side of the staircase I’d just descended and spilled the contents of my stomach into the snow-covered bushes beside it, the cold air doing nothing to help with the sweat that formed on my face and neck.

After taking one last look in that direction, I turned and made my way back to the chalet. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and cry.

Luckily, by the time I’d returned, Tate’s parents, grandparents, aunt, and uncle weren’t awake. I climbed the stairs, went to my room, and closed the door behind me. Then I stripped out of my clothes, pulled on a T-shirt, and climbed into the bed, tears spilling down onto the pillow.

This was it.

This was the end of any hope for us.

I had nobody to blame but myself. I should have tried harder; I should have forgiven easier.

Right now, I understood what led my mother to the excessive drinking. Though I didn’t think it was a justifiable reason for neglecting me, I couldn’t say I didn’t get it. I used to wonder why she didn’t just leave my father after she knew he was cheating on her.

But maybe I could understand it now.

She, like me, was so desperate to hold on to anything with him that she’d accepted it, drowning her misery in a bottle of alcohol.

I couldn’t be angry with Tate now. He had not a clue I was softening toward him to the point I’d intended to crawl into his bed tonight. I could have given him a hint about it, and maybe he wouldn’t have left with Francesca.

Now, I faced a new challenge.

How would I remain friends with Tate, so I didn’t lose him completely, while resenting the fact that he’d so easily discarded me once he was back in my good graces?

It felt like hours had passed, but the clock indicated that wasn’t the case. Even still, no matter how long I’d been there, I couldn’t sleep. And when I heard the door to my room open, I tensed.

“Ava?”

It was Tate. And he didn’t sound right. His voice wasn’t normal.

Why was he here?

I couldn’t face him, couldn’t bear to look at him tonight, not after he’d left with that woman and tossed me aside like trash.

Closing my eyes, I pretended to sleep. Tate turned on a lamp on the opposite side of the room.

A moment later, I felt his hand come to rest gently against my head, his thumb stroking lightly through my hair. Then his hand moved, the back of his finger running down my cheek before he pressed a kiss to my temple, his lips lingering briefly.

“I fucked up, Ava,” he whispered. Those four words made my gut clench, and I couldn’t trust I wouldn’t vomit all over again. “I’m so sorry. It’s been such a long time, and I miss you. I hope you’re going to forgive me, because I love you. I’ve always loved you, and I don’t know what I’m going to do if I lose you.”

He kissed me again before I lost his hand. I heard his footsteps on the carpet, then the light went out, and the door closed behind him.

I held my breath for a few more seconds before I buried my face in the pillow and burst into tears.

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AVA