Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
And in the next breath, I started crying, and I didn’t even bother to try to stop myself this time.
When I turned to face Tyler, his face crumpled at the sight of me, and he opened his mouth to speak, but closed it all the same, shoving his hands in his pockets as if he was afraid he’d reach for me if he didn’t.
I prayed he would.
I prayed he never would.
It was a constant war, one neither of us would ever win.
Time stretched between us under the dim light of the moon, the breeze doing nothing to cool my hot skin as I waited — just like he’d asked. I dropped the skirt of my dress from one hand, my heels from the other, abandoning them in the sand. But Tyler just watched me, his eyes casting their gaze over every inch from head to toe, his jaw tense, eyes filled with an emotion I couldn’t place.
“You left,” he said simply.
I choked on something of a sob or a laugh, though I couldn’t be sure which. “Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, I did.”
“Why?”
My eyes rolled up to the stars, like they would somehow be able to explain what I couldn’t. “Because I can’t do this anymore,” I whispered, rolling my lips together as fresh tears marred my cheeks. When I finally found his gaze again, all I could do was shake my head. “I can’t watch you with her, Tyler. I can’t watch you put your arms around her waist,” I choked. “And her lean her head on your chest, and you hold her the way you held me. I can’t watch you with her at all and pretend like I’m okay.”
Tyler’s lips flattened, his brows bending together so fiercely that a flurry of fear swept over me.
He took one step toward me, and somehow I managed to keep my feet planted. “You said this was for the best. You said you didn’t want me.”
“Well, I lied, okay?” I said, matching his step with my own, and before I knew it, we were chest to chest, nose to nose, every shaky, hot breath of his meeting mine. My hands reached out for him, but I stopped them before they could make contact, holding them in the warm air between us as I whispered again. “I lied.”
The air was thick and heavy, armed with electricity and toxins as we stood there on that beach bathed in starlight. My hands trembled as I lowered them, gently, carefully, until they rested so lightly on the lapels of his suit that I wondered if he’d even feel them at all.
I lifted my chin, looking up at him through my lashes, waiting for him to say something — anything.
But nothing came.
I watched as a range of emotion washed over him, everything from surprise to pain, but he settled on something that looked a lot like anger. He ground his teeth, his eyes welling with tears and jaw muscles ticking from how tightly he held his mouth shut. His mouth opened just enough to let out a hot, quivering exhale, and his eyes flicked to mine.
They were filled to the rim with tears, but he didn’t let them fall, and he didn’t say a word, either. He just watched me for a long, anguished moment.
And then he sniffed, looking straight ahead again, his hands still in his pockets and his jaw set.
That was it.
That was my cue to leave, to let it go, to let him go. This was his chance to take what I’d confessed and run with it, to pull me into him, to say he wanted me, too.
But he didn’t.
The breath I took when I stepped back was like black smoke to my lungs. The first steps I took away from him felt like walking on shards of glass and rusty nails. And when I turned to look at him once more over my shoulder, it was a view I knew would be burned into my memory for the rest of my life.
Still, I left him there.
And he let me go.
The day my mother left, there was an elemental shift in me.
I didn’t realize it then, because I was young and, for the most part, untouched by the cruelties of the world. I lived in the sheltered little bubble of Bridgechester, in the warm hideaway of my best friend’s house and family, in the comfort of my aunt’s arms. I believed everyone when they told me something — Morgan when she said we’d be best friends forever, Tyler when he told me I was spectacular, my mother when she told me she’d be back for me.
But on that day, something shifted.
It was the first time I was hardened by life, the first time I saw through the curtain I’d been hiding behind and viewed the world for what it really was.