Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
♦
I took the time to go home and shower before tracking Holland down. A simple text. Can we talk? Where are you?
Her response was short. I’m at my mom’s house.
When I pull into the driveway, I find her sitting on the porch. It transports me back to the first time I broke up with her, right here in this very same spot.
Except she doesn’t rush out to greet me with the fresh optimism of true love. She knows what’s coming and her expression is stoic as I approach.
I don’t sit down next to her but instead put my booted foot on the bottom step and tuck my hands in my pockets so she can’t see they’re shaking. I try to gather my thoughts because no matter how hard I tried to put together a cohesive explanation of my feelings, it was and remains jumbled.
The one thing I know is that I have to be honest with her. She deserves that much.
“How are you doing?” she asks, expression a bit reserved. She’s already making a break.
I glance off to the side, note that her mom’s house paint is peeling. “I went to the barn today. Did some work.”
Holland remains quiet. I turn to face her. “Kat told me that I need to let you go.”
She jerks slightly but clasps her hands in her lap, head tilted to hear more.
“She said I can’t string you along. That I have to make a decision and if I can’t let go of this guilt over what happened to Wade, the best thing I can do for you is let you go.”
“And what do you think?” she asks.
“I think a million different things in the span of a minute, Holland. Or at least, that’s how it feels. I know it’s hard for anyone to understand the responsibility I’m taking for Wade’s death, but I can’t get past it. I mean, I could live with the guilt of hurting him, and the guilt for getting the girl he wanted and taking happiness for myself. But… I can’t live with the stark reality that had you and I not reconnected, he’d be alive.”
“So you’re going to let me go and that will be your punishment?” Her tone is derisive, the first indication she’s angry.
“Something like that,” I admit. “Forgiving myself is easier said than done. The only thing I know is that I love you, and I don’t want to lose you, but I also don’t know how to make you happy with this poison in my gut. I’m afraid I will resent you if I’m forced to rush past this, and I can’t let that happen. You don’t deserve that.”
“I guess I don’t understand what you have to forgive yourself for. There’s not one person in your family who believes you’re responsible for what happened to Wade. We all blame the one person who caused this, and he paid the price because he’s dead too. I don’t know why you can’t see that.”
“Because I’m flawed,” I say, almost as if it’s a guess about why my conscience won’t let me free of this doubt. “I can’t stop thinking about the chain of events,” I say, my voice breaking. “You came back, I went after you, we fell in love again, Wade found out, and he stormed out of the house. If I hadn’t pushed him, he wouldn’t have been on that road. It’s my fault. It’s so simple.”
Tears spill down Holland’s cheeks, and she shakes her head fiercely. “You’re right. You’re flawed. That is flawed thinking. This is all in your head.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, taking a step back. “I can’t look at you without thinking about what happened to Wade.”
Holland flinches and lowers her gaze. “Then your decision should be easy.”
“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can think to say.
She stands up, her voice ever so soft. “You’re making the biggest mistake of your life. Again. You once said losing me was the worst thing that ever happened to you, and now you’re doing it again. Haven’t you learned anything?”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. There’s nothing else I can say to make anyone understand me.
Holland nods and dusts off the back of her jeans. She turns on her heel, walking to the front door. She doesn’t look back at me… not once. She steps inside, shuts the door, and just like that, we’re done.
We. Are. Done.
I thought this would bring relief, that I’d be paying the ultimate price for my mistakes, and it would give me some cold comfort. But it’s not. I feel like I’m ruining my life all over again and the emptiness that follows in the wake of that understanding feels like it will swallow me whole.
How is it possible that I hurt worse now?
I have no answer, only the reassurance that I deserve this pain.