Where We Belong (A Touch of Fate 1)

"Years."

"Years?" he asks incredulously, his eyebrows arched.

I nod my head, swallowing hard, suppressing the tears threatening to fall.

His head drops down. His voice is quiet but full of curiosity. "Why now, Harley? Why not a year ago, a month ago, or hell, a week ago? Why now?"

"Because you're too important to me, Ty. I was scared." My voice cracks when I say his name and a fat tear streaks down my cheek. "I didn't want to risk our friendship. I didn't want to lose everything we have if you didn't feel the same way." I squeeze my eyes shut and hang my head in regret. I should have told him sooner, but I've come this far, and I'm sure as hell not giving up now. Wiping away the wetness under my eyes, I step in Ty's path, preventing further pacing. "Would it have mattered? If I would have told you a year ago, a month ago, or a week ago...would it have mattered?"

His eyes are downcast, his lips tilted in a frown. My chest tightens and my hand twitches, wanting to touch him, but I don't.

"Yes," he whispers, looking up at me. "It would have mattered."

"Then it matters now!" I snap. "If it would have mattered then, then it matters now. We can do this, Ty. You just have to take the chance. Please take the chance. Please," I beg.

His emotions shift once again, anger and resentment visibly overtaking the sadness. Reaching for his head, Ty grips his hair tightly and a deep growl rips from his throat. "Damn it, Harley." His voice is low and hard. My eyes widen in shock at the menacing glare he shoots at me. "What the fuck do you want me to say to that? You're doing this because I told you I'm leaving. Do you realize what you're asking? You're asking me to uproot my entire life. Do you know the work it took to transfer medical schools? And what about Brit?" His mouth parts and a look of horror overcomes his features. "Brit," he mutters to himself. “Fuuuuuck. Brit was right.”

He begins to mumble and I’m not sure if he is talking to himself or to me. “Brit told me you had feelings for me. I didn’t listen. I defended you. I mean...I had hoped you did, but I didn't know. I told her she was wrong and that she was just jealous." He looks at me, eyes wide with shock. “But she was right. My God! All those times I left her to spend time with you...” His words drop off but quickly resume. “I told her there was no way you felt that way about me because you're my best friend." He stops pacing and turns to face me, but his eyes are trained on the ground.

Silence consumes us. Tension fills the air.

“Ty, say something please,” I whisper. “Please tell me what you’re thinking. You’re my best friend, and I know you feel like I’m just throwing this at—"

“But you are,” he interrupts loudly. “You are just throwing this at me, Harley!"

I grip my hands tightly in front of me, wringing my fingers together in pure desperation. My heart slams in my chest. I know he feels the same way. He loves me. I saw it in his eyes. I just have to convince him that this is right. I wait patiently for him to continue, but when his hard gaze lands on me, my hope vanishes into thin air and my heart plummets to the ground. His lips are set in a firm line, and his eyebrows are dipped low in disappointment.

“I’m with Brit,” he states firmly. “And I’m not going to hurt her...I can’t." He shakes his head. "She hasn’t done anything to deserve this,” he says, waving his hand between the two of us. The pacing continues, back and forth in front of me until he finally removes his hands from his hair and places them on his hips. He turns to face me. There is a finality in his eyes that causes my resolve to crumble. I throw a hand to my mouth, but I can't stop the sob that slips out.

“Harley...” His voice trails off while his eyes search mine—for what, I’m not sure. “Harley, I can't do this. I'm sorry, but I can't." He pauses again, taking a second to sit down on the table. Placing his elbows on his knees, he bends forward and lowers his head. His voice is so soft that I almost don’t hear his next devastating words. “We need to step back and take a break...from our friendship, Harley. We need to take a step back from our friendship.”

I cry, and my body trembles. "No." My hands shake, my mind working furiously to find a way to fix this. "No," I repeat desperately. "We don't need to take a step back. We need to move forward." I crouch down in front of Ty and grip his fisted hands in mine. "Please give me a chance. I know you're scared, but I promise, you won't regret it. You won't regret me." My eyes flicker across his face, pleading with him to take this leap.

He exhales loudly and raises his head. “I can’t believe you're doing this to me—to Brit. Now. When I’m suppose to be moving to New York in a week. A fucking week, Harley!" Standing abruptly, his eyes lock onto something over my left shoulder, but I can’t tear my eyes away from him to find out what it is. “I can’t do this. I won't do it." A cold shiver of realization trembles through me. “I’m leaving next week for New York—with Brit. It's best for my relationship with her if you and I don’t talk...at least not until I can sort through all of this in my head."

His words hit me like a knife to the chest. He can't mean that. He's just in shock. "We can't be friends?" I hiccup, gripping my chest where I'm sure there's a gaping whole from his words. “Please don’t do this. Please, Ty! I’m sorry." I grab his arm, forcing him to face me. “I’m so sorry. Please forget I said anything. I can’t lose you...I won’t lose you." My tears fall freely. I’ve stopped wiping them away; there’s just no point.

I startle when I hear someone behind me clear their voice. I turn slowly and find myself face-to-face with Brit. I’m not sure how long she's been standing there, but based on the look on her face, I’d say she pretty much knows what’s going on.

Ty moves to walk around me, and I quickly grab his wrist. “Please, Ty,” I whisper. Gently removing my hand, he reaches for Brit, entwining his fingers with hers. Without a backward glance, they walk away.

Slumping down onto the picnic table, I close my eyes, praying that this was all a bad dream and I just have to wake up. Realistically, I know it’s not, but there is always that small window of time right after something horrible happens when you feel like if you hope and pray hard enough, you can actually rewind time and undo what’s been done.

I grip my hair tightly at the scalp and watch as my tears cascade off my face and hit the table below. I'm not sure how long I sit, but eventually I get up and pace the alley behind the bar, trying to wrap my head around everything that just happened. This is why I never told him before...for exactly this reason.

What on earth have I done?

He can’t seriously end our friendship.

He can’t really walk away.

There is way too much history for him to do that. Right?

A gravelly, slurred voice interrupts my thoughts. "Harley? That you?" The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I squint through my tears, trying to see whom the drunken voice belongs to. Relief washes over me at the familiar face. I try to respond, but a deep sob comes out instead. He moves to my side quickly. "You're crying," he says, putting a comforting hand to my back. "Please don't cry."

I normally wouldn't get this close to someone who isn't Tyson or Quinn, but right now I need the familiarity and comfort he offers. In a desperate move, I wrap my arms around his middle, bury my face in his chest, and cry like I've never cried before.

The stench of smoke deeply rooted in his shirt fills my nostrils and the stale odor of liquor makes me sick as he whispers calming words in my ear. I should be worried. I've heard that he's gotten into some heavier drugs recently, but I know I'm safe.