Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“Of course it is.” I hope he can’t hear my pain like I can hear his.
“And his recovery is going to be slow and…”
“You have to be in New York. I understand,” I say. And I do. If I switch my heart off, everything makes logical sense to my brain. He has to be in New York. I have to be in Colorado.
But my heart isn’t switched off. It’s on full volume and it hurts like it’s trapped under ten tons of rubble.
“And with all the additional responsibilities I have now, I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to come to Colorado again.”
The knife sinks deeper and I close my eyes, trying to shut out some of the excruciating pain that comes with his words.
“Yes,” I manage to whisper.
“I don’t want to be selfish,” he says.
I don’t know if I imagine it, but it sounds like his voice is breaking as he speaks.
“You deserve to be happy. I want that for you. More than anything,” he adds.
You make me happy, I want to say. Any crumb or snatched moment I can get, I’ll take.
I want to assure him I’ll wait as long as it takes for him to come back to Star Falls. That I’ll call him five times a day and visit him as often as I can.
But I don’t think that’s what he wants.
And he’s not invited me to New York.
I can’t find the right words—any words—to say in return. What is there to say?
I’ll miss you?
I’ll never forget you?
I’ll think of you every day for the rest of my life?
None of it seems enough.
“I want you to be happy too,” I say.
More silence.
Silence that lets the terrifying reality seep in. I know now that I’ll never know anyone like Jack again. From this moment on, there will be a gap in my heart where Jack is meant to fit.
He’s still on the phone, I can hear his breaths against the handset, but I feel so empty.
I want you. I want you. I want you.
It’s all I can think. All I can feel.
But why? We knew this is how we’d end up. It was always going to turn out like this. His life, his family, his business is all in New York.
What did I expect?
That he’d give it all up and come and live on a fruit farm in Colorado?
Now we’re both hurting. Him in one time zone, me in another. So did we let it go so far? Why did I let myself fall in love with this man?
I never had a choice.
Not since that first night in New York. I think I fell in love with him that evening.
I’m an idiot. I should have run when I saw him again at the diner. As far away as possible. I should never have let myself get into something that was going to be so painful to get out of.
“You’re probably busy,” he says.
I shake my head, but don’t say anything. I can’t. He’ll hear my tears if I do and I don’t want him to hurt more than he does. I know this is as difficult for him as it is for me.
More silence. I gather myself. I need to be strong. “Be kind to yourself, Jack,” I manage to say.
It’s not any of the things I want to say. It’s not any of the things I feel.
But he knows. He must know. There’s no point in making this worse.
“You too,” he says.
And then he’s gone and I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep breathing.
I lie back on my bed, letting the conversation sink in, wondering if the weight of it will pull me through the floor of this house, down into the ground.
Into my grave.
“Dinner in five minutes,” Bray shouts from downstairs.
Eating is the last thing I want to do. But we’ve had a rule since Mom died—if we’re in the house, we all eat together. No taking it to our bedrooms or having it later because someone wants to watch the game. I guess it was Dad’s way of keeping us from drifting apart. And it’s worked pretty much. Okay, so I got my high school diploma and I haven’t told Bray or my dad, but we share stuff around the dinner table.
I pull myself up from the bed, check my face in the mirror and head out. I can’t let myself cry. I won’t. Not until later.
“You okay?” Bray asks, as I get to the bottom of the stairs.
I smile and nod, trying to be as convincing as possible. I’m anything but okay, but I’m not about to admit it.
“What the hell are you working on that won’t wait until tomorrow?” he asks.
I realize I’m carrying my laptop. I don’t even remember picking it up. It was beside me on the bed, as I was going through my emails when Jack called. Ironically, I’d had good news today. I got notified that I’d been accepted into the American History course that I’d applied for. I’d been excited to tell Jack. I thought it would distract him from thoughts of his dad. And I knew he’d be happy for me. And proud.