Chapter 13

Thirteen

B lake

Her emotional “thank you” pushes away all the remaining stubbornness from of my chest.

Why did I ever let her get away? Why did I push her so hard to let me go when she went away to finish college? She loved me and I convinced myself that breaking up was for her own good. When she told me she loved me, it was so pure and sweet and raw, but it caught me off guard. In my head I’m kicking myself.

Time to lay it all out on the line and see where it lands.

“I should have asked you to stay,” I whisper into her neck.

“Blake, I know why you did it.”

“Let me finish. I should have told you when Gramps died. I knew you would forgive me for everything and come home immediately to be with me, to help me. But I foolishly didn’t want you to forgive me for that reason. I felt I didn’t deserve for you to help me through my grief. I thought I deserved to be alone. You told me you loved me and I ended it. I thought I would hold you back if we tried making our relationship work long distance, so I broke things off with you.

“I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have done that. Sorry isn’t even the right word. I’m disgusted with what I did. I beat myself up over it every day. And when you came home six months ago and walked into my bar, I thought the universe was punishing me. I felt I didn’t deserve you, but I deserved the torture of seeing you every day. I should have handled a lot of things very differently and I regret…everything.”

I brush my hand along the soft strands of auburn hair splayed out against the sleeping bag, and it’s there that I feel dampness.

“D? Are you OK?”

I feel her nod and I hear her sniffle. “I’m sorry too,” she says.

I try to shush her but she needs to talk just as much as I do.