Chapter 4 #2
And when the darkness crept in anyway—and it did, often, especially at night—Grandma would sit with me and hold my hand and tell me that heartbreak doesn’t last forever, even when it feels like it will.
I’d started therapy. Learned coping mechanisms. Learned that what I’d felt—what I’d done—wasn’t weakness or dramatics, but a real mental health crisis that required real help. I learned that depression was an illness, not a character flaw.
It had helped, slowly. I’d come back at the end of summer still feeling hollow, still aching, but better at managing it.
Better at recognizing when the darkness was pulling me under.
I was better at asking for help before it got that bad again.
Better at functioning like a normal person instead of a ghost haunting her own life.
I’d thrown myself into my senior year. Studied obsessively, joined clubs, padded my college applications.
Kept myself busy enough that I didn’t have time to check my phone every five minutes hoping for a message that never came.
Didn’t have time to wonder where he was or what he was doing. And I never saw him again.
And now I was leaving. Finally, finally leaving. Going somewhere he’d never been, somewhere that didn’t have his fingerprints all over it. Somewhere I could breathe without feeling like I was suffocating on memories.
“Em?” Kat’s voice pulled me back to the present. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been really quiet.”
“Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.”
“About?”
“Everything. Nothing.” I shook my head. “It’s just a lot, you know? Leaving.”
“I know.” She reached over and squeezed my hand again. “But it’s going to be good. You’re going to be amazing at Penn. You’re going to meet new people and have new experiences and forget all about this boring town.”
I smiled, grateful for her optimism even if I didn’t quite believe it. “Thanks, Kat.”
We pulled into the field, and I could already hear the music thumping, see the glow of the bonfire in the distance. Cars were parked everywhere, people milling around with red cups in their hands. The annual end-of-summer party, same as every year.
Same field where Ryder had beaten up that guy for grabbing me. Same field where I’d gotten drunk and stupid and thought maybe, maybe he felt the same way I did.
I pushed the memory away and climbed out of the car.
“Let’s do this,” Kat said, linking her arm through mine.
The party was in full swing, music blasting from someone’s truck, the bonfire crackling and sending sparks into the darkening sky.
I recognized most of the faces—kids from school, some who’d already graduated, some who were still finishing up.
Everyone was laughing, drinking, celebrating the end of something and the beginning of something else.
Kat and I found a group of girls we knew from school, and I let myself get pulled into their conversation.
Listened to them talk about college plans and summer jobs and who was hooking up with who.
Laughed at the right moments, nodded along, pretended I was fully present instead of just going through the motions.
After a while, my cup was empty and I excused myself to get a refill. The coolers were set up near the trucks, and I wove through the crowd, keeping my eyes down.
I was digging through the ice for a drink when I heard it.
A laugh. Deep and familiar and impossible.
My blood ran cold. My hand froze in the cooler, ice water dripping from my fingers.
No. No, it couldn’t be. He wasn’t here. He was at school, or wherever he’d been for the past two years. Anywhere but here.
But I knew that laugh. Would know it anywhere, in any crowd, after any amount of time.
I straightened slowly, my heart hammering against my ribs. Turned toward the sound.
And there he was.
Ryder.
He was standing about twenty feet away, surrounded by a group of guys and girls I didn’t recognize.
He looked different—older, somehow. His hair was a little longer, his shoulders broader.
He was wearing jeans and a dark t-shirt that stretched across his chest, and even from here I could see he’d put on more muscle.
He looked good. He looked so good it hurt.
He was laughing at something one of the guys said, his head thrown back, that smile I’d memorized a thousand times lighting up his face. And next to him, tucked under his arm, was a girl.
She was beautiful. Long blonde hair, perfect skin, the kind of effortlessly pretty that made my stomach twist with inadequacy. She was looking up at Ryder with adoration in her eyes, her arm wrapped around his waist, fitting against his side like she belonged there.
Like I used to belong there.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Could only stand there with ice water dripping from my hand, watching them like a car crash I couldn’t look away from.
The girl said something to Ryder, standing on her tiptoes to reach his ear. He smiled down at her, that soft smile I’d thought was just for me, and then he leaned down and kissed her.
It wasn’t a quick peck. It was a real kiss, his hand coming up to cup her face, her fingers tangling in his hair. It was intimate and easy and familiar, like they’d done it a thousand times before.
Like he’d kissed me that night at the cliffs.
Something inside me shattered. Actually broke apart, sharp and painful and devastating. I felt it crack down the middle, felt all the careful walls I’d built over the past two years crumble to dust.
I’d told myself I was over him. Told myself I’d moved on, that I was fine, that seeing him wouldn’t affect me anymore.
I’d been lying.
Ryder pulled back from the kiss, still smiling at the blonde girl, and then his eyes lifted. Scanned the crowd.
And found me.
Our eyes locked across the distance, and I watched his smile falter. Watched his whole body go still, like he’d been struck by lightning.
For a moment, we just stared at each other. Two years of silence and absence and unanswered questions hanging in the air between us.
His lips moved, forming my name. Emily.
I panicked.
I dropped the can I’d been holding, not even hearing it hit the ground, and turned and ran. Pushed through the crowd, ignoring the annoyed shouts as I shoved past people. My vision was blurring, my chest tight, my whole body shaking.
I found Kat talking to some guy from our English class. I grabbed her arm, probably too hard.
“Kat. I need to go. Now.”
She took one look at my face and nodded. “Okay. Yeah, let’s go.”
She said a quick goodbye to the guy and we hurried to her car. I climbed in and slammed the door, pressing my hands to my face as she started the engine.
“Em, what happened?” Kat asked as she pulled out of the field. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just—I don’t feel good. I need to go home.”
“Did someone do something? Say something?”
“No. Nothing like that. I just need to go home. Please.”
She didn’t push, just drove, occasionally glancing over at me with concern. I kept my face turned toward the window, trying to breathe, trying not to fall apart completely.
He was here. He was here with someone else. He’d moved on, found someone new, someone better. Someone who wasn’t a stupid kid with a stupid crush.
Of course he had. What did I expect? That he’d been pining for me for two years? That he’d been waiting?
He’d made it clear I didn’t matter. Had made it clear when he stopped calling, stopped coming home, stopped being part of my life.
I’d just been too pathetic to accept it.
“Thanks for the ride,” I managed when Kat pulled up to my house. “I’m sorry for ruining the party.”
“You didn’t ruin anything. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. I’ll text you tomorrow before I leave, okay?”
“Okay.” She hugged me tight. “Love you, Em.”
“Love you too.”
I climbed out and walked to the front door on shaking legs. Let myself in quietly—my parents were already asleep, the house dark and silent. I climbed the stairs to my empty room, closed the door behind me, and stood there in the darkness.
My sleeping bag was in the corner. My boxes were stacked against the walls. Everything I owned, everything I was, reduced to a few cardboard containers.
I walked over to my sleeping bag and climbed inside, still fully dressed. Pulled it up to my chin and stared at the ceiling.
And then I let myself cry.
I cried for the boy I’d loved since I was eight years old. For the friendship that had meant everything to me. For the kiss at the cliffs that had felt like a beginning but had been an ending. For two years of silence and wondering and hoping he’d come back.
I cried for the girl I’d been, the one who’d believed in fairy tales and happy endings and the boy with blue eyes who’d saved her in the woods.
I cried until my throat was raw and my pillow was soaked and there was nothing left inside me but emptiness.
Tomorrow I was leaving. Tomorrow I’d get on a plane and fly away from this place, from these memories, from him. I’d go to Europe and then to Penn and I’d build a new life, a better life. A life where Ryder didn’t exist, where he was just a chapter I’d closed and left behind.
Tomorrow I’d be fine.
But tonight, in my empty room in my empty house, I let myself break one last time.
I let myself cry for Ryder, for us, for everything we’d been and everything we’d never be.
And when the tears finally stopped and exhaustion pulled me under, my last thought was a promise to myself:
I would never let him hurt me again.
Tomorrow, I was leaving.
And I was never coming back.