Chapter Fourteen

Still

I'm so sorry for the delay! Don't think I've lost interest or forgotten about this story! The day I was about to post this chapter, my Internet died, and it remained that way for a week. Finally, we got our Internet back up, and I'm able to post this.

Also, I finally got a job at a local coffee shop! I'm working seven hour days, four days a week, so expect updates to be a bit less frequent. And, yes, for those of you that are wondering, I have opened the shop and worked the morning shift. And, yes, it's as awful as people say it is. Let's face it: at 7:00 AM as a barista, you're downright loved.

Alright, enough about my personal life and my explanation. Enjoy the chapter, and thank you so much for the wonderful reviews everyone has sent me! I really do appreciate them, and they help me so much!

I had fallen asleep sometime between when I had cried into my pillow and when Mrs. Ashford knocked on my door the following morning. It was the rudest awakening I had in some time. My eyes were sore, and I knew I looked a mess. I could feel the bobby pins poking into my scalp, the ones I had never bothered to take out.

Memories of what I had done last night instantly washed over me, knocking me over like a wave. Instantly, I imagined Will's hurt expression that I hadn't let myself see. To me, it was a confused expression, mixed with him looking like he had gotten stabbed in the heart. I let that be the only thing that I thought about for a moment.

What I felt when I envisioned Will's reaction was absolutely gut-wrenching. It made my heart drop to my twisting stomach. If it wasn't true before, it had become true -- I had no heart.

What I had put myself through in that moment, laying on my bed and thinking of him, was one of the most horrible things that I had felt. I couldn't bear to imagine Will's expression any longer, nor what I had made him feel yesterday and today. A lump in my throat began to choke me. I wondered if I closed my eyes, this would all go away.

This was so much different than when I first arrived in Port Royal. I could hide myself from the truth for a while. I could imagine that I was simply in a nightmare, that I really hadn't time-traveled. There was no hiding the truth after a fight. You had the worst morning-after effect, your stomach knotting, immediately wondering about them... I could not fool myself into thinking that I hadn't hurt Will.

I lied in bed, hearing the second knock on the door. I opened my eyes, only to see that none of that had gone away.

I felt that, in every sense of the word, I had arrived in hell.

I waited anxiously the entire day to see if Will would come into the bakery. I wanted to see him horribly and to apologize, but what would I say to make up for it? “I love you”? I know that I didn't love him, how could I say it back? I cared for him, but I never wanted to truly get attached to someone. I didn't want emotions to get in the way of things. Couldn't two people be happy by just being together and not using that word?

On the other hand, I didn't want to see Will. Guilt would seep through me and remain under my skin. He would look too hurt, and I would have to realize that I was the one responsible for it. I felt awful enough for reacting how I did (although, I wasn't apologizing for not saying what he had thought I was going to say). I didn't know if I could face him today. Tomorrow, or the day after, I was sure I could, but the coward in me told me that today was not the day to face him.

While baking the entire day, I waited anxiously for Will. I couldn't help but feel that all my energy waiting for him had been worth nothing: he never came.

I didn't cry that night as I went to sleep. I had begun to accept that Will was angry with what I said – or furious, or that he simply didn't want to talk to me. I was fine not talking to him, either. My silence to him was out of guilt and the dread of seeing him again. I worried what he would say to me.

I had thought everything into the ground, but I had managed to think about it more. Will was all I had thought about the last twenty-four hours. How could I think about him more?

Will didn't show up at the bakery the following day, either.

I knew he was avoiding me.

I began to stop caring. It was too exhausting to care.

Three days after the incident, I decided to make matters into my own hands and apologize. I refused to be consumed over one word any longer.

Saturday, the third day after the incident, was the day that I was sure Will would visit me. He didn't come during business hours, like I expected. I thought that he would come after Mrs. Ashford had left to get supplies for the following week, but I was left to clean alone.

When I was cleaning the counter, I realized I could no longer think of him. I threw my rag down and stormed out of the bakery, went next door to Brown's Blacksmith, and knocked loudly at the door.

My heart pounded so hard within my chest that I thought it would break my ribs. My blood grew hot underneath my skin.

I wondered if Will would answer. I would barge into the shop if I needed to. I was not about to let what happened Wednesday hang between us!

As the moments passed, I wondered whether Will was in the shop or not. I wondered if he was ignoring me. Determined to speak with him after my two days of cowardice, I put my hand in the knob, only to feel it being pulled away from me at the same time.

The door opened, and Will stood before me, with the exact expression that had been all I thought about for three days – confused and looking like he had gotten stabbed in the heart. It was twenty times worse to see his expression.

The silence was painful. I had no idea what to say to him.

“I'm sorry,” I said softly.

I hadn't expected a response, nor did I get one. Guilt flooded over me, freezing my heart in the process. I was surprised that I still retained something beating in my chest.

“I'm so, so sorry,” I said. “I shouldn't have said it like that.”

I hope he knew what I was talking about. Judging by his response (or, lack thereof), I was sure that he knew I was talking about Wednesday night.

“It was...”

I hated admitting it to Will. I hated to admit things and apologize to people.

“...Wrong of me to walk away from you,” I continued.

The silence was deafening. The friction between us was so much that it was able to unfreeze my heart and make it nearly break my ribs with it's thumping.

“I'm thinking that, maybe if I apologize, you'll start talking to me again.”

Will's deep brown eyes softened ever so slightly.

“It depends on what I have to forgive you for,” Will said. “I don't want to forgive you for not saying that you loved me.”

A small wave of relief came over me. I was thankful that he wasn't mad at me for not returning the feelings.

“It was more along the lines of the one word that I did say to you,” I said. “I'm so sorry, I just – froze. No one's said that to me, not someone like you. I didn't know how to react, and I shoved you away, which is what I shouldn't have done.”

Will nodded. I wasn't sure if he was ready to forgive me, though I doubted he was.

“That gives some explanation,” he said.

I frowned in confusion.

“You didn't think I walked away from you because I didn't care about you, did you?” I asked.

He sighed. Another wave of guilt washed over me. My stomach tingled with nausea, and I could feel myself blanching. I wished Wednesday had never happened.

“Oh, my God, Will,” I said. “I'm so sorry. That wasn't what I meant at all!”

I resisted the urge to bang my head against the doorway to Brown's Blacksmith.

“Don't think for one second that I don't care about you,” I said.

I took one step forward, putting my hands on Will's cheeks. Our eyes met, and, once again, I felt a new pit of guilt. Desperation was another emotions added to my growing collection, this time.

“You are all I have now,” I said. “If I lost you – especially over something I did -- I don't know how I would live with myself.”

The fact that what I said sounded so cliché was completely masked by my desperation. I could not afford to lose Will. He was the only person that I could trust in Port Royal. If I lost that trust... I didn't let myself think about it.

“I've never said that to a guy before...” I continued.

I hoped Will knew what I was talking about.

“And I just need some time to say it. It really scares me. Commitment of any kind scares me. If you still want to be with me, you have to know that it will take me a while to say it.”

There was a brief moment before Will nodded. Silence then clouded over us.

“Please forgive me,” I said, barely above a whisper.

It seemed like an eternity had passed before Will acknowledged that he heard me, though, he kept his eyes on mine the entire time. He took my hands and held them near his chest.

“I forgive you,” he said.

It was amazing how much weight three words could have one a person. With Will saying, “I love you”, it had brought me down so much. With “I forgive you”, it lifted me up as if he was, once again, picking me up in the ocean during our unbreakable kiss.

“Thank you,” I said gratefully. “Thank you so much. I am just – so, so sorry --”

“Christine,” he interrupted. “I forgave you, why are you apologizing?”

“Because I still feel awful,” I confessed.

“Don't,” he said.

I expected a small smile from him, but I didn't receive one. His expression remained serious, and I didn't feel as at ease as I usually was, even if he did forgive me.

“I understand that you need some time to say it, and I'll give you as much time as you need.”

Will's gentle personality made me melt and feel even more awful what I did. I took my hands from his cheeks and wrapped my arms around him, snuggling into his chest. I felt his hands go to my back. I felt just a bit more forgiven, but I felt as if I had a long way to go, despite his words.

“If it makes you feel any better,” I murmured, “You make me get a really weird feeling every time I look at you.”

“Still?” he said, nearly playfully.

I remembered telling him the day we kissed that he gave me butterflies and made me flustered around him. I was happily surprised to see that he remembered that.

“Still,” I said.