“We—I didn’t leave on the best of terms. You made it very clear that if I left, that was it.”
“I was an idiot. I thought about things more during that time than I ever have. I’d consider calling you, then back out. I was hurt and scared. There was always this lingering doubt. Then, I don’t know what happened. I woke up one morning needing to see you. I needed you, and this whole letting-you-go thing felt like the stupidest thing I ever did. I didn’t care about the rights or wrongs. I figured I’d make it work somehow. So I bought a plane ticket that morning.”
Taking in a deep breath, I shake my head, too afraid to speak.
He nods in retaliation, going on, “I did,” he confirms. “I was ready to chase you. I wanted you. You need to know that part. You had only been gone two months, and I was floundering. I thought that no matter what, I would make it work.” He releases a long breath, turning away from me but placing his palm against the trunk to the right side of my face, leaning into me.
“I got to the airport, and all I had was this half-filled duffle bag. Brandon dropped me off, and I went to the gate to wait for my flight. But I started chickening out again. I had too much time to kill. I started to think about all the reasons you might have left all over again, because I knew what I was doing was a huge risk. I didn’t want to hold you back, and suddenly it dawned on me that me making you choose in the first place was me doing that exact thing. I freaked out.” He stops, his eyes flickering with the painful memory as he shifts his footing, trying to resituate his thoughts.
“I worried that if I ran to you, that I’d be part of something you needed to keep afloat, and I’d be holding you back in an entirely different way. We were kids, only nineteen, I know. We’ve covered that. But I wanted the best for you, and suddenly in that moment my rash decision to see you felt like such a selfish thing. I was selfish once with making you choose, but I didn’t want to do that again. You knew where you were going. You knew what you wanted. The damage had been done, and you chose to leave. I understand now that it wasn’t you not choosing me, but in that sad, sad moment, I loved you too much to let you destroy what you were already working so hard for. I felt defeated, but for once I felt okay with it. I did try calling you in the airport to tell you all of this. I half hoped you’d talk me into getting onto the plane, to tell me you were going stir crazy, like me, or,” he pauses, “or you’d confirm what I was feeling. That it was better I stayed in Colorado. You didn’t pick up your phone, and I don’t blame you for it. I knew you were still angry. But… I returned my ticket at check-in. I only got half of the amount back and used that to take a bus back home. I took the bus and then walked from the station straight to your mom’s house. She told me to go with my gut, and that she wanted what was best for the both of us. I didn’t know what that was. So I just went with the flow, losing myself in the tasks of life, trying to keep busy all over again, knowing that you were on a path you wanted, and I had to try and find mine without interrupting yours.”
“My mom knew how much I missed you,” I blurt out. “So did CeeCee.”
His free hand reaches out and strums against my forearm tucked tightly against my chest, and each little tap disrupts the rhythm of my heart. It’s too much.
“They didn’t talk to me about you. No one would. Your mom only said that if it was meant to be, it would happen, and that only time would tell. I got pissed off every time she’d say it, and then she’d yell at me for the string of profanities that followed. Then she’d make me do yard work to blow off the steam.”
“I did need you,” I respond, gulping down the words. “If I had known you were—”
“No Hailey, as much as I wish things had been different, I don’t know if I would change it. You got what you wanted.”
I let out a huff, shooting him a glare, but getting lost in his eyes just the same. “That’s so unfair of you to say. You gave up on me. I never wanted to let you go. It was never supposed to be about sacrifice.”
“I know it seems like I gave up on you, but it was all about preserving my own heart, too. I had never dealt with that sort of emptiness. I stayed busy, Hailey, and I know this won’t make sense, but staying close with your mom was the only thing that got me through. I got to hear the tiniest updates about you that she’d allow. When you got your first chapter written, when you finished the novel, the ton of agents you queried, to getting the publishing deal. I knew about it all. It was the only thing that kept me alive and kicking. I was so proud of you.” He lifts his hand to brush a piece of hair away from my face. I hold still even though I want to lean into his touch.
“I drove all the way to Denver to buy a copy of your book. It was like this piece of you that I was allowed to have, even if I had to share it with the world. Believe me when I say I never forgot about you. I didn’t date anyone for years, Hailey. Although, I was lost and reckless. I threw myself into finding a purpose. The rough and strenuous work of being at the station just fit me. I got to work off all this pent-up aggression I felt with life. Eventually though, being so angry at myself started getting old. I wasn’t living, and you never came back home. I started to realize you might never come back. Also, it started getting harder for me to ever consider leaving PineCrest. Your life in LA was getting better and better, and I knew I was a reminder of a failure.”
“You are a reminder of why my heart aches, not that we failed. You don’t get over your first love, Caid.”
“I know. But I had told myself that after four years it was time to move on, but don’t ever think I wanted to. It was never over in my mind.”
“I’m so mad at you right now.”
He shrugs, and it makes me angrier.
“I didn’t have anyone to help with how I was feeling,” I say. “You know how I fixed my heart?”
He nudges his chin up, telling me to go on, and I hate that he’s so close to my face.
“I wrote a fucking book about it, that’s how.”
His eyes go wide, as if he never considered the book as a coping mechanism.
“That’s how I moved on,” I add. “We both had to find our ways to move on, and I did, and obviously so have you. And that’s okay! It’s hard for us, I get it, but we can forgive each other now.”
I’m trying to find a way to calm my out-of-control heartbeats and to somehow stomach this feral look overcoming his features as he stares, but it’s hard to multitask with him around me like this. I want so much of what I can’t have. He must know it. He’s got to feel it.