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PROLOGUE
November 29, 2002
2:16AM
To the love of my life,
Should this letter find its way to you one day, then I want you to know some things about me. Even though you don’t know who I am at this moment and time, I need to reach out to you tonight because I’m afraid I’m losing faith in ever finding you. I’m twenty-three years old, in college, and I fear I’m becoming everything I’ve always hated in a man. Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and it was the worst holiday I’ve ever had because I spent it alone… getting high. I was supposed to go back home, but I can’t stand being around my folks these days. We don’t get along. We’re the most dysfunctional family. I will tell you right now that I promise to protect you from all that toxicity when I find you one day. I won’t let my mother poison our love—not like she did with my first love.
I know I’m not making much sense—my thoughts are all over the place. I’m sober at the moment, but most nights… I’m not. I’m sorry. Someday, I’ll quit; I’m just not ready yet. I hope to God that when we finally meet, I’ll be under better circumstances and will have put this addiction behind me. I never thought I’d be an addict. I’m too ashamed to tell you what my addiction is. But here’s a truth: I’m a womanizing asshole. I’ve slept with more women than I can count. I’m irresponsible,and I’ve abandoned the one person who would love me forever, no matter what. Maybe I’ll tell you about her one day. Her name’s on my chest. I used to be a decent guy, but that’s not who I am anymore. Despite popular opinion, I don’t even love myself. I guess that explains my self-destructive tendencies. The only reason I’m still in school is because of my father. I don’t want to let him down.
I’m terrified of falling in love with you. I’m scared because when you love someone, you should always be honest with them. My past is full of secrets and shame. I’ve done many things I’m not proud of—and normally I don’t give a shit about what people say or think about me, but if you rejected me, it would crush me to the core. I haven’t even met you, yet I feel unworthy of you. Perhaps it’s best that we never meet. Who could ever love me after all I’ve done? I’ll probably end up marrying someone just to settle, and you’ll probably chase your dreams and fall in love with another man. I hope he treats you well, I really do, but I can promise you he could never love you as much as me.
Women say I’m heartless. Most times, I think they’re right. Although, it’s on nights like this that I’m rudely reminded that I’m not as stone cold as I wish to be. Whatever’s ticking away in my chest is damaged, and the frost in my soul has touched it. I can’t give away a frozen heart. No one really seems to understand that. I feel so empty. Every day, I’ve got all these people around me… but, I always feel alone. I think that’s one of the worst forms of suffering: to be with someone who makes you feel lonely inside. I’m in so much pain and I mask it well, to my own detriment. It’s self-inflicted, but you shouldn’t have to fix me. I need to fix myself. I’m too weak, I guess.
I wanted to write you this letter as a cry for help, to convince myself that thereissomeone out there especially for me. But now that I recognize that possibility, all I want to dois prevent us from ever meeting. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I broke your heart. Tragic, isn’t it? I think it’s sadder than “Romeo and Juliette.” At least those two got to love each other before they faced their demise together. Romeo had the chance to express his love for Juliette. He held her, kissed her, made love to her… while you and I… we will never be fortunate enough to taste a kiss from each other’s lips. I’ll never be able to hold you through the night, and you’ll never wake to find my eyes gazing at your beauty while you slept. I think this will be the most unselfish thing I’ve ever done in my life. You have your freedom now, and I’ll never cage you. I’m undeserving of you.
This will be my last love letter. At least I can be content knowing that it’s written for my soulmate. We’ve never met face to face, but I swear I’ve seen you in a dream. I’m giving you my heart. Take it with you wherever you are, wherever you go, because I don’t need it anymore.
I hope you find happiness, beautiful. I’m sure you will without me.
Yours always,
Noah Hunter
CHAPTER ONE
NOAH
The grandfather clock in Dr. Grey’s spacious office kept ticking while I reclined on his leather lounger and stared at the ceiling. A tight cord had finally snapped in my mind, choking me in torment. My psychological suffering was visible on my face. These dark red walls seemed like my prison and sanctuary; it was the only place where I could remove my mask and feel safe in doing so. I was living in Hell—and if not Hell, then purgatory. So much had happened. Why had life become so complicated?
Tick… tock… tick… tock…
“Think out loud, Noah,” Grey said. Sitting across from me in a navy-blue suit, he had his usual notepad on his lap. The man always looked so composed—it was unnerving.
“I’m sorry.” I turned my head in his direction. “My mind sort of wandered.”
“Well, it’s good that we got those wheels turning.” His thin lips formed a subtle smile. “All you have to do now is share.”
“Right—share.” I rubbed my forehead. “A lot has happened. I might as well be straight with you. You’re not gonna like it, and you’ll probably be disappointed in me. I think that’s why I’ve been delaying our visits and rescheduling.”
“As I’ve said before, I am not here to judge you. I cannot stress that enough. I got the feeling that something hadhappened these past few weeks, but I wanted you to discuss it with me when you were ready.”
Sitting up, I reached for the glass of water resting on the table. The cool liquid flowed down my throat, quenching my thirst before I placed it back and said, “I failed.”
“Failed at what?” Grey asked.
“Taking your advice… failed at staying away from Aria.”
“Explain.”
My summarization was straight to the point as I took him through a timeline of events. I described all the conflicts that led to the rising action and inevitable climax of my first kiss with Aria on that carnival ride. He stayed quiet whenever I let him speak. I told him about how Aria and I had almost had sex when we returned home from the festival. Then I mentioned Ryan and everything that happened during Aria’s birthday dinner.
The minutes passed, and I grew tired of hearing my voice. I stopped talking and looked at Dr. Grey, hoping for some feedback, but he stayed silent, gesturing with his hand for me to continue. I told him about my adoptive brother, Evan—how he’d randomly showed up at my doorstep.
“You never mentioned this brother to me,” he said. “Not once during any of our sessions.” He furrowed his brows.
“It was irrelevant.”
