Page 142 of Before We Break

If that’s what happened, it doesn’t change anything. He could’ve chosen to confide in me—to lean on me like a real partner. Instead, he decided to break my heart by throwing my insecurities in my face. Even if I understand it on some fucked up level, I can’t forgive him.

What about Auggie? How will he handle this? Aside from the weekly phone calls with his dad, he hasn’t seen him in almost a year. Is Jonah going to take back custody? Is he capable of caring for a child?

All questions I don’t have the answers to because Noah fucking Weston decided I was too much. I shake out my trembling hands, trying to calm myself, but it’s no use. I’m helpless in this situation.

Quinn slides across the couch and wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Take a deep breath.”

I close my eyes and inhale through my nose.

“Good. Now let it out.”

I blow it out slowly.

“Again.”

She repeats the exercise with me until my pulse returns to normal and I’m no longer shaking like a leaf.

I rest my head on her shoulder. “Thank you.” The words come out on a heavy sigh.

“Feel better?”

“Mhm.”

“Good. Why don’t you come to the town meeting with me tonight?”

“I would rather shovel horse shit.”

“That can be arranged.” Callie strides into the cabin, toes off her shoes, and falls onto the couch beside me, laying her head on my lap. She looks up at me and smiles. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.”

“What stage of grief are we in?” Callie asks, but she’s not looking at me; she’s looking at Quinn.

“The one where she knits sweaters for your toddlers in the middle of the summer.”

Callie squints and purses her lips. “So, denial. We can work with that.”

I shove her off my lap and toss a pillow at her head.

“Ooh. Anger. Even better. Let’s go to a rage room.”

I’m standing in the middle of a plywood room with a table in the center, wearing a set of coveralls and goggles. “All I Wanted” by Paramore plays through the speakers. This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for a fresh start.

Callie and Quinn give me a thumbs up through a window. This must be what it feels like to be a fish in an aquarium. I pick up a metal baseball bat and try to swing it like that one scene in Twilight, but it falls to the floor with a loud clatter.

Callie throws her head back, laughing, and Quinn rolls her eyes, adjusting her headphones over her ears. It says a lot that Quinn insisted on coming with us despite how overstimulating a place like this can be.

I pick it back up, preparing to swing at the vintage computer monitor in the center of the table. The music builds to a crescendo, and I let the baseball bat fly, putting a massive crack in the center of the screen. I stare at it in satisfaction.

The second swing comes with a wave of sweet relief, unleashing a feral beast. Letting every ounce of unbridled anger and sadness flow through me, I pick up a hammer next, wielding it like the words that have been haunting me for weeks.

“You’re too much, Clio!” The hammer comes down, shattering a stack of plates.

It’s pure catharsis with each swing, every broken lamp and shattered bottle. With five minutes left on my timer, I turn to Callie, giving her a succinct nod. She meets me at the door, holding the strawberry-shaped cookie jar filled with pennies. “Are you sure about this?”

“I can’t keep clinging to the past. That jar isn’t going to bring Penny back, and what little luck it might hold isn’t going to fix things between Noah and me. It’s only weighing me down. I have to let go.”

“Ok.” I can tell she doesn't believe me, but she retreats back behind the glass anyway.