I’ve made mistakes.
A lot of them.
Possibly too many to count.
But I tallied them up. Each and every one. I analyzed every single stumble I’ve trudged through. It hit me like an epiphany I never wanted.
It was me.
It was all me.
Right up until this very last interaction.
Brooks has spent the last few years declaring his love for me, and I grabbed on to it like a fucking lottery check whether I was in the frame of mind to accept it or not. I was so deprived of love and affection that when it was open to me, I stared at it blindly, rejecting the possibility of its truth.
Lifting my phone above my face, I search through my contacts, seeking out his name.
I block his number and then delete it from my phone.
I move my photos next, ignoring the tears that leak down my temples as I expunge any hint of him from my life.
Logging into my social media accounts, I remove and block him from those as well. I can’t look at his life in pictures anymore. I can’t see him living his life and being happy doing it. Without me.
It’s a cathartic process. One that feels as necessary as it does painful.
It’s not the first time I’ve cut Brooks out of my life, but I can recognize it’s the most poignant. The slices our union has carved into my heart are a constant ache in my life.
One that I need to erase.
One that can only be purged through healing and space.
25
BROOKS
AGE 26 (TWO YEARS LATER)
“Where to next, mate?”
I lean back in my chair, weariness catching up with me as I nurse the black beer giving me heartburn.
“The homeland.”
Home.
Such a strange and foreign concept. No place has ever called to me permanently. Sure, my family home is situated in the United States. But no one place has ever felt like mine.
Wanderlust and work have held me hostage for as long as I can remember now.
“Where will you go?”
“Anywhere,” she dreams. “Everywhere.”
She’s the only thing that ever felt like mine. No matter where I was in the world, if I was connected to Henley, I was grounded.
“Nice. Whereabouts exactly?”
I clear my throat. “Originally from Denver, may hit that up first. Family is in Lake Geneva, though.”
Jack nods his head, the froth of his beer decorating his top lip before he licks it away.
After my six-month stint in Siberia, I needed something to clear my mind. More, I needed something to pull me out of my own head.
Henley hated me.
I knew it would happen.
Knew the moment I gave in to temptation and fucked her well into the early hours of the morning following Addy’s wedding that I’d come to regret it.
She seemed ready to go all in on the dance floor, and although I knew I couldn’t give it to her, I took what I could at the moment, needing to claim something of her before I was forced away from her once again.
Forced may be a slight exaggeration.
But it was fucking Siberia, and truth be told, I didn’t trust her enough to give up on my dreams.
Jesus. What an opportunity. I spent one hundred and seventy-six days exploring the remote parts of Russia. I found myself amongst mountain ranges one day, then walking across an obscure tundra the next, moving into a forest of evergreens after closing my eyes. I was overwhelmed and elated but mourning.
I missed Henley.
I missed the way she tasted and the way she moaned my name.
I missed the catch in her breath as she came and the way her body shook underneath me.
I missed her smile and her laughter and her perpetual fucking frown.
I craved the way she looked at me and the odd way in which she’d talk at times.
I longed for her.
Without her by my side, I was in a constant state of deficiency. Something was missing from my life, and I’m man enough to admit I hated her a little bit because of it.
I was on the adventure of a lifetime, and she monopolized my thoughts.
I resented her for the power she held over me.
I fired Grace the moment we left Addy’s wedding.
She invaded my privacy, and worse, she violated Henley’s.
I’d fucked up by fucking her before I knew the damage she could cause. She read into our one night together as the promise of more. Inviting her to the wedding likely didn’t help.
What a waste of a fucking orgasm she turned out to be.
Again, my stupidity knows no bounds because I invited her to Addy’s wedding as a buffer. Sure, she was supposed to be heading to Siberia with me as an assistant. But the real reason I needed her there was insurance. Addy had told me Henley was bringing a plus-one. And not just any plus-one . . . a fucking boyfriend. I knew walking in there without a date on my arm would’ve seen me hauling her out like a fucking caveman while banging on my chest and chanting mine. In hindsight, the date didn’t matter. From the moment she stepped out onto the aisle, my hand ached to touch her. I had to squeeze Grace’s waist to remind myself she was there.
Returning from Siberia, I reached out to Henley, but my fears had once again came to fruition, when I discovered she had blocked me from her life.
She wouldn’t return my calls.
She changed her email address.
She even fucking unfriended me on social media. Worse still, she’d blocked me so I couldn’t even stalk her like the creep I am.
I needed a distraction, and a loud and slightly unhinged musician seemed like my best bet. I’ve spent the last eighteen months living on a tour bus with one of the world’s biggest popstars. Total fucking asshole, but his manager, Jack, is good people.
“Do you get tired of this life?” I ask
