Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
All of his words hit me like a ton of bricks, and because I couldn’t contain my emotions anymore, a sob bubbled out of me.
When he brought me into his arms and hugged me against his broad chest, I cried like I never had before. I cried so hard and for so long my stomach became sore and my eyes felt stretched thin.
We lay on the bed, the hours passing, my body still racked with pain and guilt. We didn’t utter a word. We just lay there, breathing in sync, thinking.
I hadn’t cried so much in months, but it was like my soul needed the cleanse. I’d bottled the emotions in for a while, thinking one day they’d go away or even become dull and muted, but all they’d done was accumulate.
At some point, Deke fell asleep while holding me in his arms. I shifted a bit, and his arms tensed. Even in his sleep he didn’t want to let go. I managed to free myself, then sat up to look at him—really look at him.
This beautiful man with the world as his oyster. This kind soul who loved me, who wanted me . . . and it made no sense at all. Giselle was right. A woman like me didn’t belong in his world, because his world was meant to be easy and satisfying after all that hardship with his brother, and I was a complicated, mourning mess. I was a literal trigger to him. One pull on that traumatic gun, and it’d pierce him right in the heart.
My bottom lip trembled as I leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead. I left my lips on his skin a few seconds too long, and a hot tear slid down my cheek. I wiped the tear away before it could land on him, then climbed off the bed and grabbed my bag.
I looked at him one last time, and before my eyes could fill with tears, I closed the door and walked away.
FIFTY-FIVE
DEKE
When I was thirteen, I remembered, Camille had once burst into our house, run up to her room, and thrown herself onto her bed. She buried her face into purple pillows and sobbed while our mama stroked her back and told her she would be okay.
I stood at the door watching, confused as to why she was crying so hard over a boy she’d only been dating for a couple of weeks.
“My heart is broken, Mommy,” Camille had whined, and I remembered thinking how stupid that sounded and how dramatic she was being.
Hearts can’t break. How does that even feel? I wondered. I was fortunate enough to grow up not knowing that feeling with a significant other. But when I woke up in that bed and saw Davina was gone, I felt exactly how my sister had that day when she’d stormed to her room.
It starts off small, a wave of disappointment followed by mild frustration. But as you sit with it, it snowballs into something bigger, something monstrous, and suddenly your eyes sting and the center of your chest aches, and it literally feels like someone has stuck their hand down your throat and ripped your beating heart out.
I sat in a chair on the deck, hunched over, with my face in my palms. The cool air nipped at the bare skin on my back, and though goose bumps were on my arms, I didn’t shiver.
My heart was pounding alone, yearning for a woman who wanted to be as far away from me as possible. All it wanted was her, but she was gone, despite me stripping myself bare and laying it all out for her. Despite me trying desperately hard to prove that I loved her.
She’d made her point. Her decision was to walk away. So be it. That was it.
Truth is, grieving people hurt in a different way. Sometimes we punish or blame ourselves. We act like we don’t deserve good things when we lose someone, because good things mean happiness, and happiness means moving on, and no one wants to move on from what’s familiar to them.
No one wants to face a new chapter after such devastation or fill themselves with fresh ideas and perspectives. Some people cling to whatever is left of their old lives, even if that means pushing everything else away.
I should know. I was one of those people.
When I looked up, focusing on the lake and the gray clouds in the sky, hearing the thunder roll in the distance and the leaves rustle from the wind, I came to the most heartbreaking realization of all.
No matter how badly I wanted Davina Klein, I was never going to have her the way I wanted.
Her heart belonged to a man I could never compete with, and I was simply an obstacle she had to conquer so she could cling to whatever was left of him.