Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 106797 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106797 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“Fine! Leave!” I screamed so loud my throat hurt, my voice like a line of razor blades in my esophagus as my tiny fists pounded against his chest. “This is what you do, right? This is how it goes? I’ve memorized every inch of your back from all the times you’ve walked away from me this summer!”
Rhodes was chewing the corner of his lip, a fresh tear falling in the same line down his cheek. He was hurting, too. Why was he doing this?
I hit him once more before my hands flew to cover my mouth and I sobbed. Straightening, I sniffed, shaking my head. “You don’t get to be the one who walks away this time.” He still wouldn’t look at me. I was tired of trying to make him.
I took one last longing look at him, my body remembering everything he’d made me feel that summer all at once, and then I turned. I thought he’d spark his bike to life and leave me in the dust again, but he didn’t. He watched me go.
One final penance.
I had always felt like there was this invisible string between Rhodes and me, fastened to his heart and my own. He had pulled me toward him all summer, reeling me in, and as I climbed into the Rover and sped away, I felt the string snap, knocking me backward with the force. I choked, covering my mouth with the hand not glued to the wheel, muffling my cries.
He was leaving me, really leaving me, and there was nothing I could do about it. In less than a week, he’d be free of Poxton Beach — of me. But I would never be free of him.
I was getting a crash course in love and loss and I knew in my heart I wouldn’t be able to survive the wreckage without Rhodes to help me find the rest of my missing pieces. But he wasn’t giving me that choice.
I either had to pull myself together on my own or stay broken.
I hated both options.
It was interesting to compare my break-up with Mason to the one I was having with Rhodes. Even though we hadn’t technically been in an official relationship, I felt more for him in two months than I had ever felt with Mason in the two years we’d dated.
Still, it’s like my mind wouldn’t let me pout the way I did with Mason. I could almost hear Rhodes in my head, yelling at me not to wallow, screaming for me to be strong and pick myself up. Move forward. Forget. Leave it behind.
I didn’t try reaching out to Rhodes again. Instead, I threw all of my focus into myself. For two days, I just thought. I would run to think, take an ice bath to think, sit outside by our pool to think, call Willow to think out loud, dream with what little sleep I was getting. I was asking myself all the tough questions I had let myself ignore all summer. What did I want to do next? Where did I want to go? What mattered to me?
In a way, I was avoiding making any moves because Rhodes was here — in Poxton Beach — and so, that’s where I wanted to be. And before I met him, before he was the anchor, I just hadn’t thought about what I truly wanted aside from the fact that I didn’t want to go to Appalachian State and be like everyone else in my class.
So, after swallowing back all the fear and self-doubt, I put in my application to the Savannah College of Art and Design. I didn’t tell Mom or Dale, not that I was talking to them at all anyway, but I did tell Willow, who screamed over video chat for a solid sixty seconds. She was half-screaming because she was excited for me and half-screaming because I wasn’t going to be anywhere near her if I got in. All I could think while we talked was that I really wanted to tell Rhodes. I wanted to see the wide grin spread across his face and watch as his eyes sparkled with pride. I wanted him to pull me in for a long kiss. I wanted him to be there.
But he just wasn’t.
Still, I felt him all around me. A part of me wondered if maybe I would always have that sensation. It was strangely comforting just as much as it was terribly agonizing.
My mom always told me that before I could love anyone else, I’d have to learn to love myself. But I didn’t believe that anymore. I was beginning to realize it takes a special heart — one stronger than our own — loving us for us to realize that maybe there’s something there worth loving, after all. Maybe it was about finding love in the one person who loved you before you had the chance to love yourself.