Hold the Forevers

Then it was carefully replaced with a forced laugh. Almost a cackle. “You can have New Orleans. Just like we had Frat Beach.”

Cole froze at the words. Processing what Ash had said. Then it hit him, and his gaze shifted to me.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“Oh, she didn’t tell you about that?” Ash asked.

But my fuck was confirmation. We hadn’t hooked up when I was with Cole, but he didn’t know that. It had happened, and that was enough to pull the pin on the grenade.

Cole launched himself forward, slamming his fist into Ash’s jaw. Ash’s head whipped to the side, and for a second, I thought it would end there. He was still recovering from broken ribs after all. But no …

Ash had been waiting for this fight his entire life. He wasn’t as big as Cole, but he came at him with years of fury. And no amount of yelling on my part could tear the two apart. I had to watch as they fought on the steps of the cathedral.

My hands shook, and I thought I was going to be sick. Something had been broken here. Something that had long been rotting and ignored. Cole’s temper had ignited, and Ash’s antagonism had won. And they were both so wrong. It wasn’t like on television when a person was being fought over. This was terrible. It wasn’t even completely about me. It was about ego and pride and male territorialism.

This was about winning.

And in the end, no one won. Except for my clarity that I couldn’t keep doing this.

I couldn’t be with Ash.

I couldn’t be with Cole.

Not with our history always hovering around us. Not when I loved them both. Not when they hated each other. This would never get easier. It would never go away. Time kept pulling us back together, always together, and it didn’t care who got hurt. Inevitably, it was always me.

Every time they hurt each other, I held the brunt of it, and I had for years and years. Love wasn’t enough here. Not with hate so close to the surface.

An apology wouldn’t fix anything this time.

A group of Holy Cross football players dived into the fray to tear Cole and Ash apart. They were both bleeding, chests heaving, fighting to get back to it. To take out their anger in an animalistic way. As if it would solve anything.

“It’s over,” I said so soft that they almost didn’t hear me.

“What?” Cole asked.

“It’s over,” I repeated. “This is over. Both of you.”

“Lila,” Cole said.

“Wait,” Ash began.

I shook my head. “No, I’m done.”

“You can’t be done,” Cole said.

But I was. “I’m tired of having to choose and getting hurt in the process. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Lila,” Ash said.

I stared between them, utterly empty and spent. I was too tired, too broken to go through this. I’d hurt when it all sank in, but right now, I felt resolute.

“Please …” Cole said.

There wasn’t a way. I knew that. And we couldn’t keep doing this. If only they didn’t hate each other. So, I threw out the only caveat that I knew they’d never accept.

“It’s either all of us or none of us,” I said clearly.

Both guys balked at my words. The words they had surely never expected to hear. I’d only thought them in abstract, knowing it was impossible. But there was nothing holding us back from the precipice now.

“We’re a trio, or we’re not. That’s the only offer I have.”

“That’s crazy,” Cole said.

“That would never work,” Ash insisted.

I glanced between them. Blue eyes and brown hair and red, red blood. I’d known they’d say no. How could they say anything else? But they must not have realized what the alternative meant.

“Then it’s nothing.”

They argued and fought and tried to get me to hear what they were saying, but they’d made their position clear while they rolled around on the church steps. It was over.

I’d spent my entire life fighting between these two men. I’d had casual dates with other people, but part of me had known I’d always end back up with one of them. It was only now that I knew that I had to try something else. There had to be something … someone else out there. Without the history and the baggage and the pain.

My mom kept the boys back and herded me into the car. She didn’t say anything as we drove home.

“How much did you see?” I asked once we were inside.

“Enough.”

I nodded and sank onto the couch. My eyes were dry, but I knew it was only a matter of time. “What have I done?”

“The only thing you could with that ridiculous behavior on the church steps.” She sat next to me and pulled my head into her lap. She ran her fingers back through my hair as I tried to cry but felt nothing.