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My heart dislodges and sinks downward in a spiral of despair. I know he’s trying to get a rise out of me, but I bite my tongue and decide to be honest. “I liked being your friend.”
Not the reply he was expecting. And his response is not what I expected either. Stepping forward, he blankets me with his rage as I walk backwards, trapped between the booth and him. “We were never friends. Stop kidding yourself.”
An acknowledgement, a cruel one, but an acknowledgment nonetheless. This is the first time he’s said aloud what I’ve been feeling all along. He sees the hope in my eyes, but crushes it a second later. “Go back to your lies, Lucy, and I’ll go back to mine.”
He turns his back, leaving me slumped against the wooden booth. I watch in horror as he reaches his table and swoops forward, kissing Sophia on her perfect mouth. She jolts back, stunned by his aggression, but doesn’t question it as she matches his passion a second later.
I’m going to be sick.
Running through the crowded room, I push past happy patrons, wishing I could dance my troubles away. The crisp breeze is exactly what I need, and my need to vomit subsides—for now, anyway. Leaning against the brick wall, I’m half hoping Saxon will come to my rescue, apologizing for being a gigantic asshole and that he wants to talk. He does neither.
A concerned passerby asks if I’m okay, the worry in her warm eyes is enough to set me off. I sprint to my car, tears leaking from my eyes. I feel helpless, useless, and so alone. I don’t know where to go. I can’t go home because home isn’t where my heart is anymore. I left my heart in Texas.
Starting the Jeep, I tear down the road, wiping the avalanche of tears with the back of my hand. I sob harder than I’ve ever sobbed before. I sob for me, for Sam, for Saxon—I sob for the Lucy Tucker who no longer knows who she is.
I drive on auto pilot to the only place I can call home.
I kill the engine, but don’t bother to turn off the headlights or close the door as I run across the green, manicured lawns. The white home set amongst the hills is my palace, my happily ever after.
“Lucy?” my mother says, the door opening wide. “What—”
The wind gets knocked from her lungs as I throw myself into her outstretched arms.
She comforts me for several minutes while I stay nestled in her embrace, weeping. I can’t stop. I know how irrational I’m being, but I’m crying months’ worth of tears.
When I hear my parents’ hushed, concerned voices, it reminds me so much of when they delivered the news about Samuel. The day this all started. Choking back my heaving breaths, I will myself to calm down.
“Honey? What’s the matter?” I don’t know what it is about a mother’s soothing voice, a tender touch that provides her child a medicine that cures all wounds.
I don’t feel better, but I feel human. “Mom, I made a big mistake,” I mumble into her shoulder, afraid to look at her. I’m ashamed.
“Simon, can you make us some hot cocoa? Lucy and I are going up to her room.”
My room.
And just like that, I know I’m where I’m supposed to be.
We amble up the stairs to my bedroom, a place which was my sanctuary, my safe place—a place I need to be right now. We sit on the bed, my mother giving me all the time and space I need.
Looking around, I realize I haven’t been here in months. I haven’t felt the need to, because my home, Whispering Willows,wasmy safe place. But now, it’s just a vacant house filled with regret.
My pastel pink room hasn’t changed a bit. My iron cast queen bed still has the same pink butterfly print duvet, the one I chose when I turned thirteen. Stuck to the walls are posters of horses, and places I so desperately wanted to visit—India, China, Australia. So many dreams, but none of them lived.
A small desk sits against the wall. Travel brochures, poetry books and my copy ofThe Catcher in the Ryeare strewed on top of it. I remember sitting at the wooden desk, dreaming about my encounter with Samuel the night it happened. Everything seemed so simple back then. But now, nothing makes any sense.
“Did you talk to Saxon?” my mom asks gently.
Sniffing back my tears, I nod. “But it’s too late,” I confess. “I’ve lost him, and I feel like I’m dying inside.”
She reads my shame instantly and her face falls. “Oh, Lucy.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” I cry, “it just did. It’s not an excuse and I’m disgusted at myself.” I cover my face with my hands, unable to look at her and see the disappointment.
After a poignant silence, she speaks. “Your father and I fell in love with you the first moment we saw you. I may not have given birth to you, but you are my child. I know you. We have watched you grow into a beautiful, caring, considerate young woman and your heart, Lucy, it’s so big. It’s always been too big. So it doesn’t surprise me that you find yourself in this predicament. In love with two people.”
The moment she says the words I’ve been dreading to accept, I uncover my eyes. I’m afraid I’ll see disappointment in hers, but I don’t. All I see are the same kind, gentle eyes that rescued me when I needed saving. Just like I do now.
“What do I do?” I ask, desperate for the answers.
