Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
He cleared his throat. “I showed up to every meeting, every chemotherapy appointment, every doctor visit, and whenever anything negative was stated, I’d turn to Penelope and state a recovery story that I’d read about online. I’d tell her that she was going to beat it. I’d tell her she’d be fine because I needed her to be fine. This was all after I learned about the cheating and all those issues. I remember one afternoon, after her chemotherapy, she was extremely ill. I was sitting on the bathroom floor with her as she threw up, with my hand gently rubbing her back. She looked at me with tears and asked me why I was still there taking care of her after all she’d done to me.”
“Why were you?”
“Because I needed her to be okay. I needed her to be alive so that I could hate her. Because you can’t hate the dead, that’s selfish. You’re forced to miss them, and I didn’t want to miss her. I wanted to fight with her. I wanted to tell her how she broke my heart and that she was a trash human with jaded morals. I wanted her to live, have a great life, and have babies with another man someday. I wanted her to thrive and laugh and do her stupid 5k runs on Thanksgiving morning. I wanted her to have a life, even if that meant I wasn’t a part of it. Then, when I thought I was over it, I felt that same anger come back when Penelope reappeared a few weeks ago. I thought I got passed it, too. But that’s the thing with triggers in life—they pop up even when you thought you got over an issue. You were triggered tonight. The anger and grief within you were reactivated. That’s okay. You’re human. It happens. But you’ll be okay.” He looked at me and gave me a small smile.
His lips were turned up, but they still felt like a frown.
His heart was still broken from Penelope’s betrayal being reactivated a few weeks prior.
Those browns were enough to showcase that fact to me—he was grieving still even though she was still alive.
Maybe that was what grief truly was—a heart repeatedly breaking even years after the initial hurt.
We had that in common—grieving individuals that were still alive.
My lips parted, and I choked on the first inhale that I took in. I shut my eyes for a moment and released a slow breath. I knew if Kai could be brave enough to share his hurts with me, I could also return the favor by bearing the darkest corners of my soul.
“We’ve been best friends since we were nine,” I started. “Cassie was the light of my world. She was the opposite of me in the best way possible. She was optimistic, while I was the biggest pessimist. She believed in love stories, and I doubted love was real.”
“You didn’t believe in love?”
“Not until she made me.” I leaned back against the headboard and tucked my knees deeper into my chest. “But she always said she hated Daniel for me. She said we weren’t a good match. Even on my wedding day, she tried to convince me not to go through with it. Now I see why.”
“I’m sorry she did that to you.”
“When we were seventeen, Cassie came up with the idea of writing romance novels together. I thought it was ridiculous, but she pushed me to humor her. So, one day I brought my laptop over, and we began plotting our first novel. From that point on, H.C. Harvey was born. With fifty-some novels later, it was all due to Cassie believing in love stories so much.”
“H.C.—Holly and Cassie.”
I nodded. “Our pen name. She recently released the information on her first solo novel a few months ago. I haven’t even written a full chapter.”
“It will come back to you.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “Or maybe she was the magic to H.C. Harvey.”
“It will come back to you,” he repeated, “You’re just going through a storm right now. It can’t rain forever.”
I hoped he was right. I missed telling love stories, but it was hard to write about love when you lived a year full of pain. “It hurt me more what she did to me than Daniel. It felt like a bigger betrayal.”
“That makes sense. She was supposed to be your best friend, your person. It’s pretty shitty what she did to you, but it had nothing to do with you. Still, I get how that hurt you. And I’m proud of you.”
“Proud of me? For what?”
“After what they did to you, you could’ve become harsh and mean. I’m glad you didn’t let their betrayal turn you cold. After Penelope, I went dark. I lost my light. I’m proud of you for not doing the same because this world needs more lights like you.”