“It’s okay,” I interrupted.
But Jorie tightened her grip on my hand. Moments of silence passed by. “Do you regret it, Pops? Do you ever regret cutting him off like that?”
I stared at the fire, lost in the roaring flames, and answered honestly, “Every single day.”
“Poppy,” Jorie whispered sadly.
I threw her a weak smile. “I miss him, Jor. You have no idea how much. But I couldn’t tell him what was happening. I couldn’t do that to him. Better he believed that I was no longer interested, than to tell him the ugly truth.” Jorie laid her head on my shoulder. I sighed. “If he had known, he would have tried everything in his power to come back. But that wouldn’t have been possible. His daddy’s job was there in Oslo. And I …” I sucked in a breath. “And I wanted him to be happy. I knew that, in time, he’d get past not hearing from me. But I know Rune, Jor; he would never have gotten past the alternative.”
Jorie lifted her head and kissed my cheek, which made me laugh. But I could still see the sadness on Jorie’s face as she asked, “And now? Now he’s back, what will you do? Eventually, everyone else will find out.”
Inhaling deeply, I replied, “I’m hoping they won’t, Jor. I’m not popular at school like you, Ruby and Rune. If I simply disappear again, no one will notice.” I shook my head. “And I doubt the Rune who came home would care anymore. I saw him in the hallway again yesterday, and the look he gave me showed me how he feels. I’m nothing to him now.”
An awkward silence followed until my best friend ventured, “But you love him just as much. Am I right?”
I didn’t reply. But my lack of response was as loud as a scream.
I did. I still loved him, the same as always.
A loud crash came from the front yard, shattering the intensity of our conversation. I realized a couple of hours must have passed since we arrived. Jorie got to her feet and grimaced. “Pops, I need to pee! Come inside?”
I laughed at Jorie dancing on the spot and followed her inside. Jorie pushed her way through to the bathroom at the back of the house. I waited for her in the hallway, until I heard Ruby and Deacon’s voices drifting from the den.
Deciding to go and sit with them while I waited for Jorie, I opened the door and stepped inside. I was barely three steps in when I regretted ever coming to this party. Three couches dominated the small room. Ruby and Deacon occupied one, Judson and some of the football team sprawled over another. But it was the third couch I couldn’t tear my eyes off. No matter how much I commanded my feet to move, they refused.
Avery was sitting on the couch, drinking from her cup. An arm was around her shoulders. Avery was tracing patterns on the hand that was hanging over her chest.
I knew what that hand felt like.
I knew how it felt to be under the protective shelter of that arm.
And I felt my heart shatter as I moved my eyes to the boy who sat by her side. As if feeling the heavy weight of my stare, he looked up. His hand stopped, drink halfway to his mouth.
Tears filled my eyes.
Understanding Rune would have moved on from me was hard enough to bear; seeing him like this brought another level of pain that I never ever thought was possible.
“Poppy? Are you okay?” Ruby’s concerned voice suddenly rang across the room, forcing me to break away from the car crash I was witnessing.
Forcing a smile toward Ruby, I whispered, “Yes. I’m fine.”
Feeling my legs shake from the unwanted attention of everyone in the room, I managed to step away toward the door. But as I did, I saw Avery turn in toward Rune.
Turn in for a kiss.
As the final part of my heart broke, I turned and fled the room before I could witness that kiss. I pushed into the hallway and ran to the nearest room I could find. Frantically turning the handle, I pushed through into the semi-darkness of a laundry room.
I slammed the door and leaned against the washer, unable to keep myself from bending at the waist and letting the tears pour. I fought back the sickness rising up my throat as I desperately fought to wipe the offensive image from my head.
During these past two years, I thought I’d endured all facets of pain. But I was wrong. I was so wrong. Because nothing could compare with the pain of seeing the one you love in the arms of another.
Nothing could compare to a promised lip’s betrayal of a kiss.
My hands clutched at my stomach. As I fought to drag in a much-needed breath, the handle of the door began to turn.
“Don’t! Go away—” I had started to shout, but before I could turn and force the door shut, someone pushed through, slamming the door in their wake.
My heart raced when I realized I was trapped in this room with someone else. But when I turned around and saw who had entered, all the blood drained from my face. I staggered back until my back hit the wall beside the washer.
The flames from the fire pit outside illuminated the dark room, enough that I could clearly see who had invaded my moment of weakness.
The same boy who caused it.
Rune stood before me, beside the closed door. Reaching out, he flipped the lock. I swallowed as his face turned back to look at me. His jaw was tense and his blue eyes were firmly fixed on me. His stare was ice-cold.
My mouth went dry. Rune took a step forward, his tall, broad body closing in on me. The pounding of my heart swept the blood through my veins, its heady sound roaring in my ears.
As he approached, my eyes lowered to take in Rune’s mostly bare arms: his toned, lean muscles were corded by the tension from his balled fists, the black t-shirt showcased his firm torso, his smooth skin still retained the tint of a fading tan. In the signature move that always brought me to my knees, he lifted a hand and raked back his hair from his face.
Swallowing hard, I tried to find the courage to push past him and run away. But Rune walked forward until there was no way out for me—I was trapped.
My eyes were wide as he focused on me. Rune moved forward until we were merely inches apart. This close, I could feel the heat radiating from his body. This close, I could smell his cool scent: the one that always brought me comfort, the one that took me back to lazy summer days spent in the blossom grove. The one that brought back, in full Technicolor, that final night, when we’d made love.
I felt my cheeks flood with heat as he leaned in close. I smelled the faint hint of tobacco on his clothes, and a trace of spearmint on his warm breath. My fingers twitched at my sides as I gazed at the stubble on his jaw and chin. I wanted to reach out and touch it. Truthfully, I yearned to raise my hand and run a finger over his forehead, down his cheeks, and across his perfect lips.
But as soon as I thought of those lips, the pain sliced back through my heart. I turned my head, closing my eyes. He had touched Avery with those lips.
He had broken me by giving away those lips—those lips were supposed to be mine forever.
I felt him close in, until our chests almost brushed. I felt his arms rise over my head, landing on the wall above me, crowding every inch of my personal space. And I felt strands of his long hair drift across my cheek.
Rune’s breathing was labored, his minty breath ghosting across my face. I squeezed my eyes even tighter. I felt him so impossibly close. But it was no use; of their own accord and ruled by my heart, my eyes slowly opened and I turned my head, our gazes crashing together.
My breath caught in my throat as the shadows from the fire outside flickered over his face. Then my breathing seemed to stop entirely when one of his hands moved from above my head, traveling hesitantly down to stroke over my hair. As soon as I felt him take a strand between his fingers, shivers broke out over my body and butterflies swooped around my stomach.