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The words came out on their own, “Are you okay?”

His eyes seemed to be deciding whether I was the devil or an angel.

He was definitely not all right. However, he also wasn’t the type to accept sympathy from anyone.

“You need to leave,” he finished, not bothering to look at me anymore, deciding that the water in his glass was more important than I was.

“Why do you always try so hard to push me away?”

“Do you hear yourself? I’m asking you to leave. Why are you still here?”

I was there because I cared about him. Yet, why was I really there? Why did I care that I cared about him? I heard an earful from his sister, and now him. He wanted me to leave. He didn’t want me there.

Without another word, I turned and walked out of his shed, out of his life. As I drove down the road I found myself pulled over, my forehead leaning on my steering wheel. I was furious that he still had enough influence over me to make me shake. Hearing it from him was what I really needed for closure, though. And obviously his sister was right: all of his sadness was because of me. I was the cause of his torment. I was in the middle of their bed. I was pestering the happy couple in the digital photos. Was I serious? Who was I? I was pathetic. I lightly tapped my head against the wheel, drumming in the truth of the matter, the truth of what he’d said. This was good though, exactly what I’d needed. And satisfying needs are so much more important than satisfying wants. I needed his words. I needed to hear him say he didn’t want me anymore. I didn’t need him anymore either.

I am Heather. Heather the warrior. Heather the strong.

As I turned the key in the ignition, my pocket suddenly throbbed, and my thoughts recalled the letter I’d stolen from the drawer. Most of me didn’t want to read it. Why torture myself? It’s none of my business. And the guy was a jerk, not good enough for me anyway. Throwing the letter out of the window was the best thing for me to do. So I did what Heather the warrior, Heather the strong, Heather the changed woman would do, I opened the letter and read it.

Paige,

I know I haven’t talked too much about the girl I fell in love with before you came along. When she left, it affected me in ways that you probably won’t understand. The best way to describe it is to say that half of my heart left with her.

And then you came along, and you invited me in. Ever since we met you have been an important part of my life. You made the future seem peaceful as opposed to unbearable. You gave me hope when I no longer had any. You brought life back into me. You made my heart start to beat again, for which you will always have a place there.

I would never want anyone to go through what I did. But I also have to be honest to both of us. I will never love anyone the way I love her.

It didn’t please me to call everything off before the engagement party. And it almost killed me to see you cry and know that I was responsible. We both know that kiss in the cafeteria was a mistake. But there won’t be any more mistakes from me. No more treating you in ways you shouldn’t be treated. You have been nothing but good to me, and you don’t deserve this.

All I can hope is that someday you will see that this was for the better, and that you will find someone who can give you their whole heart, and all their love, both of which you are worthy of.

Nick

The next thing I knew, my car was screeching a u-turn and heading back toward the house. I barged right in on him—I guess I do let myself into people’s houses. I didn’t even notice that his shirt was completely off, showing the chiseled muscles in his chest and stomach. And I didn’t notice that his pants were unbuttoned either, another area of his body I wasn’t staring at. Because I was too irate to notice.

“What is this!” I threw the letter at him.

He peered to the floor to see what I referred to, and then continued leaning against the counter eating an apple as if this were a daily occurrence, me storming in on him half naked, throwing paper across the room at him.

“That wasn’t meant for you.”

“No, but it talks about me, doesn’t it?” I said.

“And?”

“Is it true?”

He didn’t say a word, only took another bite of his apple.

“Nick, tell me. Did you call off the engagement?”

He was resistant to talk, to explain the letter. His hand rubbed over his head, but he either didn’t know what to say or didn’t want to say.

“What are you doing? You say in this letter that I’m the one you love.” My hand was pointing to the letter on the floor. “Why did you write this? Is it true? And then you tell me to leave? You’re saying one thing, and doing another. What’s your problem? How do you really feel, Nick?”

The only response he gave me was darkening eyes and a shake of his head.

“I just read this letter and it makes no sense. I read it, Nick. And it says the engagement is off and that I’m the one that has your heart. I read it! It’s right there!”

He glowered at me, still holding back, holding back on more than words, on fears too, on weaknesses, on mistakes, and on me. His quiet scowl, masking the guilt, was laced these feelings and I was finally catching on.

In that one moment it became so obvious that I wondered if a portion of my brain was still damaged from my accident. His father had him convinced that he wasn’t the man he should be; the broken engagement must have been the kicker. Another strike for Nick in the keeping-his-word department. Another straw that broke his father’s back. Another twist to the knife in Nick’s gut from his brother’s death.

“So you’re going to beat yourself up, then? You think that because you ruined her life it wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t ruin yours too? Am I close? It doesn’t seem right to go ruin someone’s life to be happy with someone else, does it?”

I noticed his jaw tense, he was staring me down with a razor sharp glare. But I had to get it all out; I couldn’t even help it if I wanted to.

“You think you’re letting everyone down. That you don’t have the right to do such a thing. That you need to please others. Make them proud by sacrificing your agency and your happiness. Do you see how ridiculous that sounds, Nick? You have every right to be happy. You don’t have to do what your father says. You don’t answer to him or to anyone else. You don’t have to marry her if you don’t think it’s right. You’re entitled to change your mind.”

Everything about this man looked strong: the way his arms were folded across his chest, the determination in his expression, his jaw line, his confidence, his physique, and yet inside this man was broken. I heard it when he said, “I can’t marry her when all I can think about is you.” The words might have been perfect had his voice not weakened and his face not looked so tormented. “Maybe you know me better than I know myself.” Neither of us moved. “It doesn’t matter. Yeah, the engagement is off, but it doesn’t change anything.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t be with you either.” My look was enough to make him respond. “You’re tough, Heather. The strongest person I know. You’ll be fine. You’ll forget about all of this, about me, and live a happy life somewhere with a good guy who will make you happy and always be there for you. That guy’s not me.”

“That guy is you.” I had to catch my breath at the emotion running through me “It’s always been you.”

“No, my fathers right. I’m weak. I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s not your weakness, Nick,” I said, moving closer to this big, broken little boy. “It’s your strength. Only brave people change their mind.” I inhaled deeply, and still, there wasn’t enough air.

I slowly moved where he could reach me. His body was resignedly slumped over, as if he had just finished the last round of an exhausting boxing match. Slowly and uncertainly, his hands reached up, one hand going to my arm, the other only making it to my hip.

I hadn’t realized I’d spoken the words until they’d left me. They were the most natural, automatic words I had ever uttered. “I love you, Nick,” I whispered, unable to speak more.

Like the recoil of a bungee chord, my body was tugged into his. His arms wrapped tightly around my frame, and his fists crushed me into him from behind. He was hurting.

I stroked his back, loving him, loving being in his strong arms, wishing I could take the pain away, wishing I could share with him the strength of mind I had received from my own relationship with my father. My healing came not by connecting or bonding with my father, but by the lack of our bond, and then the realization that my father’s abandonment had nothing to do with me. He, my father, would never define me or shape who I was or would become. I was the only person who could set the course for my own happiness. A principle of happiness that was also true for Nick.

We hugged for a long time, me leaning into him for love and him leaning on me for strength.

“I went to see my father,” I whispered after a while.

His arms tightened for a second and then retreated. When he faced me, his lightened by the smallest fraction. “Did you?” His hands remained on either side of my waist.

“He didn’t say more than a few words to me. But he asked me to come back and meet his wife. Her name is Meg.” I smiled at the way my own words made me feel. He almost did too. He knew how big of a deal this was to me. I’d mentioned on our way up the four wheeling mountain that night how I didn’t think I would ever meet my real father. At the time I didn’t possess the courage to meet those demons head on.

“I can’t believe you met him. You’re amazing.”

“I know. I mean,
I know, I can’t believe it either
. Thanks.” It felt wonderful to share this with him, like it was my birthday, and talking to him was my best present. I knew it would make him happy.

“Are you going to meet his wife?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’ll give it a couple weeks, then I’ll stop by again.”

He nodded. At his next thought, his face turned a shade darker, but he kept his hands on me when he admitted, “I talked to my dad a few weeks ago too.”

So I was right.

“He reminded me of this weakness I have. I can’t keep my word. I asked a girl to marry me, and then broke off the engagement. A cruel thing to do to someone.”

“When did you break it off?”

“You read the note.”

“But I thought you had the engagement party? I saw pictures, Nick.”

He stared at me, waiting for more.

“I went to the hospital a few weeks ago to thank the doctors who saved my life. Did you know that Paige’s father is a really good brain surgeon?”

“I knew that.”

“Did you know that Paige’s father was
my
really good brain surgeon?”

His hand went to my neck and gently brushed my hair back. “Kind of crazy, huh? My fiancé’s father saved your life.”

“How did you find out?” I asked.

“He mentioned you once, a long time ago. Never said your name, only talked about this girl in a coma with a strong will to live.” His hands never left my body, they touched my face, rubbed down my arms and caught my waist; they seemed to feast on me as I was feasting on the humble fortitude in his beautiful blue eyes. “He’d mention the same coma girl every once in a while. Then, when I came to visit you at the hospital after you woke up, I put it together.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why? What good would it have done?”

“Does Paige know?” I wondered.

“Don’t know. I never talked to her about it.”

“But I don’t understand. You had an engagement dinner—”

“It was done, the Saturday after you and I went out, the morning of the party. She told her mom, but they decided to go ahead with the dinner since all the family was in town. I thought it was pointless but I guess they wanted to save face and break the news later. Everyone had to know; I didn’t stay for more than an hour. Not really my style to deceive the whole family, but I owed her that much after committing to her and then backing out.”

Please, tell me this is real. Tell me this isn’t a dream.
I smiled up at him. “I think that’s your strength: making decisions in the end, even when they’re hard ones.”

“You know what your strength is?” His hands fastened to mine.

“What?”

“Patience.”

I didn’t know if it was a cry or a laugh, but something came out of me. “I had dreams about you for three years,” I breathed in a choppy cadence. “I wouldn’t call that patient.”

We both leaned in, and in that single, full moment, our lips united.

After an unknown length of time, we were still cuddled on his bed, my lips swollen from his ministrations. Beats me how our clothes were still mostly in place with the hunger and lust and deeply moving love that accompanied our tumble in his bed. My virtue hung on a thread but it was still intact, as much as we pushed the limits. It would stay that way until I was legally and completely his. As contradicting as it may have seemed, it was a matter of our love and admiration for each other. He saw my innocence as beautiful and perfect, and he would take it with his promise to me. I saw his promises to love and cherish me forever as beautiful and perfect, and I would give him my innocence then, happily—and very enthusiastically….