Into You Series: The Complete Collection

25. Saria

CHAPTER 25

SARIA

“ I love you.”

He says it again, and I’m not sure how to process it. I can’t focus on anything properly. Not the way his shirt clings to him, arching and curving over every muscle, twitching in the biting cold of the storm. And definitely not the way he looks at me, blinking through every drop, the deep V between his brows as deep as I’ve ever seen it, his face filled with rain or tears, I honestly don’t even know.

But what I do know is that the words he just said have been on the tip of my tongue too.

“I don’t want you to go,” he says. “I know that’s selfish. That’s really fucking selfish. I’m here with my busy shop and my daughter and—” He sighs. “It’s not just the free babysitting. It’s you.”

The words sting. I wish I could make some joke, but nothing feels right with how we both must look right now. Rain doesn’t call for jokes. It calls for confessions of love, and I’m just not prepared for it. Mostly because, well, I know exactly how I feel. And it’s itchy. Itchy to stay in this place with this man and make a commitment like that when I’ve tried to give things up for men before.

“Stay,” he says, his words pleading. “Stay with me. Please.”

“I can’t.”

He shakes his head, running hands through his soaked hair, sending droplets flying at every angle as he throws his hands down to his sides.

“What are you so fucking scared of?” he calls out.

“I’m not scared!” I yell back. “I just want to live.”

He glances at the ground, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Is it about Noah?” he asks.

“No! It’s not about Noah.” Not anymore. “It’s about me. For once. Me and my life.”

“I’m happy you’re over Noah,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. “Listen, that’s great. And I want you to live your dreams. But what about us? This is not just some fling and you know it. You know this is more.”

I shake my head, but the motion feels so deceptive even to me.

“No, it’s not,” I say. “I just need to get my independence.”

“You know what?” he says, shaking out his hands and holding them by his sides, as if presenting his words. “You’re using your independence as an excuse. If you wanted freedom, you would have left a long time ago. Now you have nowhere to run. If you stay, you might be over Noah, but you’re not over me.” He thumps his chest with his fist and shakes his head. “You’re running, Saria. You’re not running toward freedom—you’re running away from us. We might actually mean something, and that terrifies you.”

“You want to talk about terrified? What about you? Why aren’t you living?” I ask. “All you do is work.”

“I run a business.”

“And that’s it. That’s all you do.” I take a step toward him, pointing my index finger at his chest. “Go live life, Harry! Go see the world. How much have you loved getting out of the shop? I can’t be around to get you to do all that. You have to do it for yourself.” We’re silent for a beat, the distant rumbling of thunder breaking through my sentence before I say, “Go get a life, Harry.”

I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. Or maybe I did. I need to cut whatever is tethering us together.

I hate this night. I hate this weather. I hate myself for saying that. But what is there to say now? I need to leave and get out of here.

“We should break up,” I say.

The corner of Harry’s mouth tugs up, but it’s not a smile. It’s a cruel laugh.

“We can’t break up if we weren’t even together, Saria.”

He waits a beat. I think we’re both letting all of our hurtful words carry through us, burning us from the inside. Just like we deserve.

“Come inside,” he says. “You can call Jessi on the shop phone. It probably has better service than your cell. I’ll park Frankie outside. You can keep her keys, but at least promise you won’t drive in the rain tonight.”

I silently nod because, despite myself, I know he’s right. And I know it’s out of a place of caring—something I just spit right in the face of.

“I promise,” I mutter.

He turns and walks back toward the shop. I follow with my head down, trying not to let more of the rain wash me away, but I’m already fading into the gravel below me, melting like a wicked witch who deserves every single bit of destruction she gets.

I sit on the bottom stair, my knees pulled up to my chin as Harry hands me the phone that’s corded to the wall. He opens the bay door and drives Frankie out into the rain, coming back in and lowering it once more.

I dial Jessi’s number and ask her to pick me up.

“But I just?—”

“I’ll pay for gas. Please come get me.”

The words are choked sobs, and I hate myself for it. When I hand the phone back to Harry, I can’t meet his gaze.

We’re silent waiting for Jessi to arrive. I can distantly hear the sound of cartoons from the apartment above. Cara is none the wiser of our argument.

“You should make a plan,” Harry says. The words are so sudden, it startles me into listening. “Go on personal leave at work or something. I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Nia mentioned it.”

“You talked about me with Nia?” I ask.

“She asked.”

“My HR rep doesn’t need to know about my personal life,” I mutter. Once the vitriol runs from my lips, there’s no stopping it. I just want this night to be over.

“I just thought I’d pass along the message,” he mutters.

Ten minutes later, when Jessi’s car lights shine through the windows and I’ve collected my purse and keys, I stand at the door, hand on the knob, trying to figure out what to say. All I can get out is “Thanks, Harry. For everything.”

And all he responds is “Lock the door on your way out” before ascending the staircase and shutting off the garage lights.