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Seeing her that night let me know I was not over her—and I never would be. Hurting her destroyed me and I got drunk, left the party before they cut the cake, and wrapped my jeep around a pole. My shoulder aches as I stand at the window, and I wince at the memory of that night. Of going to the hospital and asking for her but knowing she would never come to see me.
Before she left town, I was out of the hospital and headed to see her. To tell her I had screwed up a few times with us, but I wanted another chance. I wanted to tell her I would leave town with her and never look back, just like we had talked about. I stayed behind because I never wanted to hold her back or get in her way. But I wound up doing that anyway and making us both miserable.
I never got to her in time. Story of my life. Before she left town the first time, I got to the train station too late. I had a bag packed and I was going to go with her then, if she would have me. After my accident, I showed up at the station again, and it was like déjà vu. Me too late to tell her I loved her enough to give up everything if I could just have her.
“You ruined her,” I tell myself now, shaking my head, “you took everything from her and gave her shit back. You don’t get another shot. You fucked up one too many times,” I empty my drink, wishing it had the burn of alcohol—but I know better.
As badly as I want a drink, I can’t do that now. That accident was a wake-up call for me. I had spent too many nights lost in the bottle, drowning myself and my sorrows in whiskey and vodka. My heartbreak and frustration was not all to blame. I could thank my father for my addictions—it had killed him but I wasn’t going to let it kill me.
Even if sometimes it felt like a better option than living without Paisley.
Connor and Hailee kept me sane since I lost her. They told me not to give up on her and after their wedding when we were in college, I was going to propose to her. I planned to tell her no matter where we went next, I wanted to be with her. I wanted her to by my wife. I wanted to give her everything because she had given me that.
We were broken up then because that is what we did. Breaking up and getting back together had become sort of a game with us by then. We were best friends forever, her, I and Connor like the three stooges or something. And then Hailee came along and the four of us were inseparable in college. Their love story was a lot to live up to. I never felt I gave her the romance we watched our best friends live right in front of us.
But I loved her. I loved her more than I had ever loved anyone. She was not the first woman I was with, but she might as well have been. Being with her felt brand new, even though we had known each other most our lives. Having her to myself, getting her smiles and her laughs, and later, her moans and her pleas for me to take her again and again, it was like nothing else.
During my final year at college, my father was sick. He let me know not only did he expect me to take care of him but also the two dealerships we owned. I told him no. I loved him and would do whatever I could, but once we graduated, I was going to start my life with Paisley. I wanted to marry her and see the world with her, and get our own version of happily ever after, even if it didn’t look as picture perfect as anyone else’s.
That weekend at their wedding, I went to her and told her I loved her. I wanted her. And I always would. We were young and I couldn’t promise her much, but I could give her that promise—that I would never love someone else or want someone else the way I did her. We spent the weekend at my family’s cabin, making love, making plans, and making up.
We were on a walk, her ring in my pocket because I was taking her to our favorite spot to propose to her, when we got the call. My father died. While I was out fucking and fooling around, he had died suddenly at home. A heart attack that the doctors warned was coming for years.
Guilt made me shut down.
Knowing with him gone the family business that supported my mother, and two brothers was in jeopardy, I kept that ring in my pocket and never proposed. I told Paisley I could never leave Harmony Hollow with her. That I never truly wanted to. I lied to her and broke her heart and she left thinking I never loved her enough to give us a real shot.
Once she was gone, I took over the dealerships and found I was good at it. I was lethal at sales because I didn’t give a fuck anymore. Without her and with Connor and Hailee gone after he got drafted, I had nothing left to care about. I took care of my mom and my brothers, getting them both into college. But none of it made me feel good, or proud, or like I was worth a damn.
Every damn day, I look at that ring and wonder why the hell I did not ask her to marry me. Why I didn’t mourn my father and sell the business off to support my family while I started my own life. And every day, my answer is the same: Paisley deserved better than me and we both knew it.
What could I ever give her besides a good time in the sack and a good fight?
We were best when we were fucking or fighting. That woman drove me crazy, and I know I made her nuts. But she made me fucking laugh too. She would spend hours drawing on my skin as we laid in bed, talking about owning her own gallery one day and featuring local artists. Maybe even right here in Harmony Hollow. But not until she saw the world and tasted all the art that was out there for herself.
Together we never made much sense. I was a football player who came from a middle class home and got by on some charm and a good run game. The dealership afforded us college educations, food on the table, and a roof over our head, but not much else. We weren’t rich and I couldn’t afford to take her out on fancy dates or go on the trips she took to see the world.
Learned too late Paisley gave fuck-all about that.
“You loved her and you let her go. Full stop, the end.” Connor told me after Paisley left town that last time. “You gave up on her before she had a chance to give up on you. Let her go, bro, stop torturing yourself and stop punishing her for going.”
He was right and I knew it. I told myself I could never give Paisley what she deserved, so I stopped trying. How many times did we try again? How many chances did she give me? And I blew them all. Connor was right—I gave up on us not to protect her, but to protect myself.
“Because you know something they don’t,” I say to myself in the darkness of my office, pouring a Jack and Coke—minus the Jack of course, “she is the one person who could destroy you without even trying.”
Hearing that truth in the quiet makes my heart stutter. Paisley Story could ruin me more than I already am, and that is why I need to steer clear of her while she is back in town.
I tell myself this for the rest of the night. As I close out my paperwork for the day, reach out to some contacts for a cross promo I am launching, and nurse another Coke. I need to stay away from her and let her be. Leave her the fuck alone while she is here. Turn the other direction if I see her. Stop asking Hailee about her like someone who can’t let the past go.
When I head home for the night, I don’t even notice that I take the wrong turn. I know the streets so well, I am not even aware that I am not heading towards my house at all. I am taking the long way we used to take when we were trying to make the night last. Past the college campus, down main street, and through the hills that lead to her house.
Looking out in the darkness, I see her family’s estate behind the tall stone wall and iron gate. I hopped that gate a few times when I couldn’t stand to be away from her. Climbed up the back trellis to get to her room. Snuck along the balcony that ran the length of the back of the house, praying her parents never caught me.
Tonight, I don’t climb the fence or try to scale a trellis, but I do park outside the house. Best nights of my life were spent sneaking my way to her bedroom. Climbing in beside her once I found her waiting for me. Her body trembling when I touched her, her soft voice pleading with me to stay and never leave her again. I always stayed until morning, neither of us caring about getting caught once we were wrapped up in one another.
Parked where I am, around the back closest to the hills that surround the back acres of their house, I can almost see her room. I saw her jeep parked out front, so I know it’s real. She is home. Probably up in that same room we spent a hundred nights together in. Maybe even in her favorite tee-shirt, one I gave her the first night we spent together. She wore it every single night for years, when I let her keep it on, and I am hard just thinking about it against her skin now.
If I close my eyes, I can almost smell her skin. Her hair. Dark and always wild and crazy, she often tied it up or pulled it back. But I loved when it was loose and framed her freckled face. Fuck, I loved her freckles. I kissed and counted each one, lingering at the ones on her breasts and her thighs. I loved them more because she hated them.
