These last two years have revolved around us.
My mom knocks on my door and says, “Everything ok?”
I don’t want to get into it with her. She’s no help.
“I’m just upset. I’ll be fine.” Not opening the door, I say, “I’ll call Emily, and then I’m going to sleep.”
“Ok, I’m heading to bed shortly. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I get on the phone with my best friend, Emily. The need to rant to someone is overwhelming. Thankfully, she picks up on the first ring.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“You’re never going to believe what happened tonight!” I start to cry but keep it together long enough to give her the quick version of the breakup.
“Oh my god! Do you want me to come over?”
“No, not tonight. I think I just needed to tell someone, and now I’m going to cry myself to sleep. Can we get together tomorrow before you leave for North Carolina? I need some extra time with my bestie before she leaves, and I don’t want it all to be about Jude. But…tomorrow I’ll need to continue to vent and cry.”
“I got you. Call me in the morning, and we’ll figure it all out.”
This whole situation makes me angry. I want to punch something. Instead, I furiously gather photos and anything else within reach, dumping it all in my desk trash can. It’s too small to fit everything, so I throw the rest on the floor, and it all comes crashing down on me. I can’t stand anymore, so I fall on the bed and sob—unable to stop even though my head is pounding.
A range of emotions hit me—I’m confused, hurt, angry, and overwhelmed. I’ve been left to pick up all the shattered pieces of my heart, scattered across the floor, while it aches from all thewhat-ifs.
Will I ever feel whole again? Jude still has a piece of my broken heart.
And I’m not sure I’ll ever get it back.
PROLOGUE
JUDE: 11 YEARS AGO
It’s been months since I last saw Faith.
I have a lot of free time, and she’s the only thing on my mind. I’m stuck in this recliner as I recover from ACL surgery, and my mind keeps going back to her face. Those sky-blue eyes pierce my memories. When I saw her last, her hair was short and full of blonde highlights. She wore that dress showcasing her cinched waist—her ass begging to be squeezed. I couldn’t keep my hands off of her.
The image of her is seared into my memory, and what I thought was important a year ago means nothing to me now. I sit here alone in my childhood home. My friends are out in Utah until the end of season while I’m back at home, twiddling my thumbs, and watching every action movie I can find on Netflix.
It really pisses me off. I landed myself in the hospital after trying that sick trick on the slopes. But I went for it. Taking risks is my middle name. I’m in shape—healthy. I should have landed that with no problem. Yet, here I am, busted up and left with nothing but my thoughts. Not a good thing.
Last year was hard; I loved Faith. Truthfully, Istilllove her. She was my everything, but I had an impossible choice. Leave her hanging on, knowing I wouldn’t have time to dedicate to ourrelationship, or let her go—like my friends suggested. When I think about it, sure, distance would have been difficult, but we would’ve figured it out. I shouldn’t have let my friends get in my head. I was stupid, and peer pressure got the best of me.
I truly thought I was doing right by her, even if it hurt me.
Now, after all the time without her, I understand I fucked us both.
My stomach turns as memories of Faith sweep through my thoughts. Here, everything reminds me of her. At least I could pretend when I was in Utah. I didn’t constantly see things that hadFaithwritten all over them. This house feels different—empty. Faith isn’t here filling the space with her love and support. I miss her like crazy. My heart is missing a piece. The piece that Faith has, yet she probably doesn’t know it—or believe it. As I hold her old promise ring in my palm, I can’t help but think about her. I’ve kept it with me ever since she left it on the dining room table. It’s a painful reminder of her, what happened, and how you can’t take things back.
I just have to live with the mistakes, even though it feels like I’m being torn apart from the inside out.
If I could talk to her, maybe I could fix things with us. Who am I kidding? That’s not an option; she changed her number months ago. While in Utah, I had plenty of distractions to keep from dwelling on her. Now that I’m home, it’s like I’m stuck in this prison of all my mistakes. My chest constricts, and it’s hard to breathe. The regrets spin inside my head, and I desperately wish I could go back in time and change my actions. Is she hurting like I am?
How is college treating her?
After everything…should I have postponed leaving her or checked on her…at the very least?
I would give anything to talk to her, apologize, and make everything right. A growl escapes me as I throw my head backward against the chair.
