Page 25 of Saltwater Cowboy

Rose: Can we talk?

Thad: You moved. We’re done. Nothing to talk about.

Rose: I’ll come back home.

Thad: Too late.

My heart splintered into a thousand pieces. My phone slipped from my hands and my eyes slowly closed. My lungs tightened and my heart raced. My fingers cripped the sheets in a panic.

Too late.

I don’t know how to be alone with my own thoughts.

It’s been the longest and most painful week of my life. I haven’t left this bedroom. I only come out to have meals like a moody teenager.

I’ve had a lot of processing to do this week. I’ve done a lot of soul searching and…I’m still destroyed.

Hearing that you’re hard to love is a hard pill to swallow. Even if there was some truth to it, doesn’t mean it didn’t slice me open and expose my innermost insecurities. I don’t know how to heal.

Day faded into night and another day of nothingness turned over.

My eyes were unable to produce anymore tears.

Blythe and Charlie have been respecting my boundaries. Blythe has only knocked once and that was shortly after I received the confirmation from Thad that we were over.

I promised myself last night today I would live life outside of these four walls. The day took a step back into my reality instead of dragging myself from the bathroom to the bed and then back.

My day didn’t go according to plan. Thad deleted all photo evidence of me from his online presence and my bed continued to be my safe space. I refused to leave bed—even for food.

Blythe knocked on the door earlier this evening.

“Not now.” I mumbled into my pillow watching my comfort show.

“If you want anything, just text me. I can bring it to your door. You won’t even know I’m here.” Blythe’s voice dripped with concern.

“Hi, Auntie.” Wren chimed in.

“Thank you. Hi, Wrenny.”

My gaze locked on the ceiling. My mind started to race. Blythe and Charlie had been so wonderful letting me stay here. I was being rude.

I grabbed my long-empty water tumbler and slowly creaked open the bedroom door. It was almost midnight on a Wednesday and everyone had to be up early in the morning so I needed to be as quiet as a church mouse. Which is impossible because their dog Marsh is the most vigilant freakin’ dog I’ve ever seen.

I crept down the stairs like a child peeking at presents on Christmas morning before everyone else is awake. I slowly made my way over to the refrigerator and refilled my water.

Tiptoeing through the kitchen, I opened the door that led to the side of the house that had the boat dock. The creaking of the door made me want to abort mission and head back up to my room. I felt like I was sixteen again and sneaking out of the house to go to a party.

The salty air hit my lungs and I breathed deeply. I could breathe.

I made my way down to the dock and sat down, my legs dangling over the edge. I stared out at the ripples in the water. The humid air clung to my clammy skin.

The immensity of the situation hit me all at once. I let the waves of sadness wash over me—bringing all those wounds I fought to push down back to the surface.

My chest heaved as sobs shook through my body. The hollowness in my chest gaping wide.

“Hey,” I opened my eyes to see Charlie standing above me. He motioned towards the spot next to me at the edge of the dock. “Mind if I sit down?”

I sat up and wiped my face with my sleeves. “It’s your house. You don’t need to ask me.”