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Closing my eyes, I gather my courage.
And I lie to him.
“I said…this is for the best. It’s better this way,” I murmur, trying to keep my tone level. Strong and fearless. Then I step in to him one more time, lift up, and place a final goodbye kiss to his lips. “Look for me over the rainbow, Brant. This Junebug will be flying high.”
BRANT
She’s gone.
June is gone—and now the only comfort I have left is the hope that all of her dreams come true.
I sit collapsed on the floor with my head in my hands, hating the sob that pours out of me. I don’t want to hear it.
I don’t want to hear my chest caving in, because there’s no sound more painful than a breaking heart.
So I cover my ears.
I cover my ears and let myself break.
A tragedy occurred, that much I know.
I just don’t know if the tragedy was in her leaving me…
…or loving me.
34
YOU FIRST
BRANT, AGE 25
It takes three more days for me to muster the backbone to knock on the Baileys’ front door.
Normally, I’d walk straight inside. I used to live here, after all.
But I don’t live here anymore.
My hands are stuffed into my jeans pockets to keep them from shaking as muffled footsteps approach on the other side of the threshold. I try not to think of June when a breeze carries over the flowery scent of lilacs.
The door pulls open.
Andrew stares back at me, his eyes sunken in, his skin pallid.
Surprise steals his expression for the briefest moment before loathsome disgust takes its place. Angry fingers curl around the doorframe, his knuckles going white. He clenches his jaw as he seethes, “Get the hell off my property. You’re not welcome here.”
And then the door slams shut, rattling the hinges and nearly cracking the frame.
I close my eyes, holding my breath as I work to keep my emotions in check.
I’m exhausted.
I’m bone-weary, having spent the last seventy-two hours working double shifts to keep my mind distracted. I haven’t slept, I’ve barely eaten, and I’m shocked my legs are even functioning enough to keep me upright. All I’ve done for three days is work and miss June.
She texted me a picture from the JFK airport, letting me know she’d landed safely. Seeing the name Junebug pop up on my cell phone screen felt like a sucker punch to the gut, but I was grateful for the communication. I hope it continues. I hope she calls me, texts me, video chats me. I hope she shares her life with me because mine is numb and uninspiring without her in it.
Which only confirms the fact that this was for the best.
Who am I without her?
