Page 69 of Miss Behaved
The pools in her eyes become waterfalls as she starts choking on her words. Every strand in the fabric of my being wants to reach out to her. Hug her. Hold her. But her words nail my feet in place.
“I’ve been self-destructive, always picking relationships that will hurt me, trying to turn them into something they’ll never be because the only person I ever really wanted walked away. And I can’t do that anymore. I can’t live in the past and pretend like you and I can write a happily ever after that never happened. You left, and I need to accept that and move on.”
Tears are streaming down her face now. And, like the asshole I am, I stand watching, like she’s a movie playing in front of me.
“I loved you too much for too long. I can’t anymore.” She swallows a cry and turns.
I want to chase her, stop her, keep her. But I don’t.
Loved you.
Past tense.
As in, I’m drowning in feelings for her while she’s finally letting me go.
This is what I always wanted, isn’t it? To know Monica is okay. To see she’s having a good life, and that the decision I made all those years ago toleave her bewas actually for her own good.
But standing here alone, with the last strands of whatever was friendship or hate or love slipping away from us, nothing feels like the right decision. Because seeing her again did, in fact, return my heart to the spot it used to live in my chest. Except now it’s shattered.
28
Monica
Ten Years Earlier
Thebedisempty.
I don’t have to roll over to know it.
If he were here, I’d feel his presence, the way I always do when Carson is around. Catching the tail end of his laugh in a crowded room. Feeling his blue eyes on me.
Always on me.
Watching through the space that exists between us.
Years spent digging a canyon into which I can escape. To pretend if I went far enough down, I’d find a piece of me that wasn’t tangled in my feelings for Carson. One shovel of dirt at a time. And still, all I ever found was him.
Burying my face in the blanket, I still smell Carson on my sheets. Feel him on my skin. Taste him in my mouth.
I love you.
Words he never quite said, but I felt them, playing in my head. Skipping like a broken record.
But I don’t look up to see that he’s no longer there, because I don’t need the confirmation.
All I need is this pillow to soak up my tears. My heart to lick its wounds. This summer to move on and forget.
Smart girls don’t hand themselves over to Carson Calloway for a reason.
And I’ve learned it.
29
Monica
Rain.Perfect.
Normally I don’t mind the Seattle gloom, but stepping into a downpour outside the airport is a stark reminder that I left every last bit of sunshine down in Arizona.
