When we got back to the inn, I grabbed us a couple of towels while Fisher lit a fire in the fireplace in the front room and we’ve been curled up on the floor getting dry and talking since then. It’s nice being alone at the inn. Even though the fireworks are finished, people will still stay down at the beach, sitting by their fires, making s’mores and toasting the holiday.
“I’m sorry he’s such a dick,” Fisher says with a sigh, grabbing onto my hips and sliding me across the floor in between his bent knees. I curl back against his chest and extend my legs out straight in front of me, wiggling my toes a few inches from the fire to warm them up.
“It’s not your fault. I’m just so damn tired of him bringing up money. I don’t understand why he feels the need to rub it in my face that I have less than him and I REALLY don’t understand how you’re related to him,” I explain.
He laughs, wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on top of my head. I lay my arms on top of his and sigh contentedly when he continues speaking.
“It probably helps that I was mostly raised by my mother and Trip and they wouldn’t let his asshole behavior rub off on me. Well, not completely. I’m still an asshole, but it seems like I’m only an asshole when it comes to you.”
We stare into the fire quietly for a few seconds before he asks the question I know has been burning a hole in his brain since I shouted it at him on the beach.
“So, you really threw that ring back, huh?” he asks quietly.
I smile to myself and snuggle closer to him.
“I did. You really should have stuck around for a few more minutes. I also took my shirt off and chucked it at his face.”
A shocked laugh flies out of Fisher’s mouth. “So THAT’S what Trip was talking about when he told me I missed out on the fireworks. Please, tell me everything, in complete detail.”
He continues to chuckle and I try to be irritated that he’s getting so much enjoyment out of this, but it’s impossible to be mad at him when I’m cozied up in his arms by the fire, nearly boneless from my earlier orgasm.
“The team dumped one of those huge buckets of ice water over my head. Stanford didn’t like the whole wet t-shirt contest look and made a dig about the inappropriate shorts I was wearing,” I explain. “He also said something about me needing to be a proper Southern lady once we’re married and I lost it. I hadn’t even told him that I would marry him, and he was already planning my wardrobe and telling me how to behave. So, I stripped off my wet shirt and threw it at his face and did the same with the ring.”
Fisher laughs even harder and I elbow him in the ribs. “It’s not funny!”
“It’s ABSOLUTELY funny! Especially because I can practically see the look on Stan-Weasel-Ford’s face when you did that. His delicate sensibilities must have been mortally offended. Also, fuck him. I couldn’t stop staring at your ass all day in those shorts. They were a thing of beauty.”
Fisher’s laugh is once again contagious and I giggle, thinking about the horrified look on Stanford’s face when I stripped in front of everyone, my body warming even more knowing that Fisher had been looking at my ass during the game.
Our laughter slowly fades after a few minutes and the only sound in the room is the crackle of the fire and our breathing.
“I never slept with him,” I say softly, breaking the silence.
I feel Fisher’s body go rigid behind me and his arms tighten around my waist.
“It’s none of my business,” he mutters.
I scoff at him. “Oh, please. You’ve acted like a caveman every time you’ve seen us together and I know that’s one of the reasons.”
He lets out a deep sigh behind me. “You have no fucking idea how good it is to hear that. I wanted you to be happy, but I hated that someone else was giving that happiness to you. The idea that he got to have you when it’s all I’ve ever wanted almost killed me.”
“I couldn’t do it, though Lord knows I tried,” I tell him with an uncomfortable laugh. “All I could think about was you. All I could feel were your hands on me and your lips kissing me and I just couldn’t do it. It’s always been you, Fisher, I just… need you to know that. There’s never been anyone else for me.”
He lets out another heavy breath and kisses the top of my head. “I’m so sorry, Lucy. For everything. You have no idea how sorry I am. You were right earlier, I shouldn’t have run away. I just didn’t know what else to do. I was losing my mind and nothing made sense anymore.”
I stay completely still and don’t say a word. This is the first time Fisher has spoken of the things that happened between us, and I don’t want him to stop. I want to know what was going on in his heart and his mind and why he did the things he did.
“You need to know that I was never, not once, confused about how much I love you. I was afraid of hurting you, worse than I already had. I was having the worst flashbacks of my life and I thought I was going crazy. It was getting harder and harder to separate being in the war from being back here on the island with you,” he explains in a voice filled with emotion. “I know I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I should have talked to you and told you what was going on, but I didn’t want to put that on you. You had already done so much for me, supported me and my need to go off and leave you year after year, stuck by my side through it all without a single complaint, and I couldn’t stand the thought of giving you one more thing to worry about. I hated myself and I didn’t know how to get out of the darkness.”