Chapter 32
Chapter
Thirty-Two
CRUEL REALITY
Ella
“He’s still everything I want.”— E
H ow fast life changes.
Just a day ago, I was laughing with the man I love and living the life I feel in my heart I was meant to live. Now, I’m on my way back to D.C. with a broken heart and so many unanswered questions.
My eyes hurt from crying, and I actually think I’ve run out of tears. I feel the need to cry, but nothing comes out. There’s only a pain in my chest that won’t let me find my next breath.
In my family’s private plane, I look out the small window at the passing landscape of Montana. My heart feels heavy with so much sorrow.
I’ve never experienced the death of someone I love, thankfully, but at this moment, I feel like I’m grieving a love that I’m afraid I’ll never experience again. No, I’m pretty sure I’ll never love like this. Not again.
Hugging my knees, I look at the land below and think back to the tulip field, which in turn makes me remember every lively moment I spent in Canyon Creek. It makes me die a little bit more inside.
He let me go. He pushed me away to a life I no longer want—a life without him. No horse rides through tulip fields, no sunsets at the lake. No pink.
A sob breaks out, and I have to put my fist in my mouth to keep my brothers and uncle from hearing.
Huh. And I thought I had no more tears to shed. I guess I was wrong.
At first, Shaw’s indifference cut me deeper than any words could. But then he said the four little words I always dreamed he would, and he said them before he sent me away. Before he broke me by giving up so easily.
If he loved me, why would he think a life with him was not what I wanted or deserved? If he really knew me, he would see that if all I had in life was him, I would be the luckiest girl.
He was everything, but I guess he didn’t know me. Not like I thought.
The memory of our parting replays in my mind like a never-ending nightmare: Shaw’s stoic demeanor, his usual soulful brown eyes turning away, unable to meet mine as I laid my heart at his feet.
It isn’t just him pushing me away that hurts me, but the unwillingness to fight for me—for us.
Feeling tired and confused, I lean my forehead against the cool windowpane, my breath misting the glass slightly. My eyes fix on the vastness of the Montana landscape; it mirrors the vastness of my pain as I leave behind not only a place where I was the happiest but the man who showed me just how beautiful a simple and quiet life could be.
I gave him all of me, and now I’m met with nothing but this growing pain in my heart.
“Fucking idiot.” Uncle Benjamin’s voice cuts through the heavy silence inside the jet.
I’ve been so lost in my head that I forget they are here with me. Both my brothers and my uncle stay quiet all the way from the ranch to the airport and through the plane ride. I’m grateful for that. I’m in no mood to talk. Besides, I wouldn’t even know what to say.
I feel so empty.
Lifting my head, I watch as Uncle Benji leans back in his seat. He seems tired—tired and sad, which only makes me feel worse. He hates it when I cry.
I quickly dry my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater and ask softly, “What?”
“He’s a fucking idiot. All men are,” he repeats himself, his tone laced with anger and frustration. “We always come back when we realize the jewel we let slip from our hands. Trust me, little lady, my cousin will realize the error of his ways.” His eyes, which remind me so much of Shaw’s, hold reassurance. He continues, his voice carrying the weight of his conviction, “But until then, sweetheart, you hold your head up high and continue chasing your dreams.” His words are filled with love and support because that is who he is—loving and supportive, one of my biggest cheerleaders.
And although I hate the circumstances that brought him here, I’m glad to see him again.
“Keep chasing your dreams…”
My eyes glisten with unshed tears. “But what if my most precious dream is him?” I choke out.
Uncle Benji’s gaze softens with a touch of sadness as he looks at me.
“You’re breaking my heart, little lady.” Uncle Benji wipes a tear from his own eye, and that makes me feel worse. More tears fall from my eyes, and I try my best to stop them, but it’s futile. It just hurts too damn much.
He leans forward in his seat and grabs my hand, pulling me toward him. He lifts my chin when I try to look away. “You don’t let this break you, you hear me? It’s going to hurt today and tomorrow and even a month from now, but one day you’ll wake up and it’ll hurt a little less.” I hiccup, my tears choking me. Uncle Benji wipes them away and continues, “I love you, my girl. Your family loves you. Let us carry you through this and don’t shut us out. What is meant to be will be, right? Trust your lucky stars.”
I bite my lip to keep from crying at my uncle’s beautiful words.
My lucky stars…
I’ve been obsessed with them since I was a child, and maybe my lucky stars have always been them—the people I love and who love me.
My gaze drifts momentarily from Uncle Benji to my twin brothers, Kyrin and Kael. I can’t help but notice the stark contrast in their expressions, reflecting their individual reactions to my heartbreak.
Kyrin, with his gentle features that mirror our mother’s, meets my eyes with a look that tells me he hates what I’m going through. Although there is anger in his gaze, I also see love. Out of the two of them, Kyrin is the one who is less angry and more extroverted.
On the other hand, Kael, who takes after Dad and Royal with his strong jawline and harsh blue eyes, sits beside Kyrin with a furrowed brow and a palpable anger radiating from him. I know it’s not directed at me but rather at the situation. His jaw is clenched, his hands grip the armrests tightly. That’s how Kael shows he cares. Out of all my brothers, he is the one who keeps mostly to himself, but I also know he feels the deepest.
While Kyrin’s compassion offers me solace and tells me I’m not alone in my pain, Kael’s anger reassures me that I am fiercely loved and defended by my family, especially in moments of deep sorrow and heartbreak.
Taking a deep breath, I try to calm my aching heart and dry my tears. I don’t know what the future holds—whether my beautiful man will get his head out of his butt and come after me or if this departure marks the end of our story. But I do know something: I have myself.
I found my voice in Montana, and I’m never losing myself again, not even for him. So, with my heart still bleeding, I raise my head and look out the window as I say goodbye to a place that brought me so much joy and hope it’s not the last time I’m here. Because I choose to believe that, like in every good romance story, this is not the end and that happily ever after is not that far away.