Page 150 of When Hearts Collide

She shrinks back into her apartment and my pulse clamors inside my ears. I’m losing her.

“Millie, please,” I plea, my voice hoarse. I reach for her, but she holds out her hand to stop me. “Please give me another chance.”

“I-I…I need to know you’re sure of this, of us this time. Right now, my heart is filled with doubt.”

She lets out an anguish-laden sigh. “I know that’s not what you’re looking for, but I can only tell you the truth. I’m sorry, Ryland.”

Glancing away, I blink my eyes rapidly, attempting to dispel the burning sensation behind them.

I turn back to her and say, “Time will tell you the truth. You’ll see. This isn’t an impulse for me. You and I…it’s the only thing I’m sure of, right down to the marrow of my bones.”

Millie gives me a sad smile and backs into her apartment. “Goodbye, Ryland.”

She begins to shut the door, but I stop her. I hand her the flowers. “At least take these. Pasque flowers. Your favorite. Maybe you can keep them along with the daffodils I got you yesterday. They’ll thrive under your care, just like my heart beats only for you. I won’t ever stop. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

She glances at the pot of purple flowers, her eyes shining with tears, and closes the door behind her.

The vise around my heart cinches and tightens, the pain so eviscerating I lean against the door for support. But minutes later, a renewed energy courses through my veins as I realize I have a lifetime to prove my love to her. If she still loves me, I still have a chance, and this time, I’m not letting her go.

I’m going to show her the surety of us, our destiny written in the storms, blossoming under the sun.

This is not a goodbye. You’ll see, Millie. You’ll see.

Chapter 54

It’s been one month of Ryland coming by my apartment each morning like clockwork. Every time, he’ll leave a small pot of flowers, or a bag of my favorite gummy bears, or premium cocoa for my hot chocolate, or other little knickknacks he knows I love. Some days, I’ll answer the door, wanting to see his face, even if we don’t say more than a few words. Other days, I don’t.

But I feel my heart softening, the chains around it melting under his persistence.

Then, there are the messages he’ll post online, the ones that have the media in a fervor because of the romantic nature of his words.

I pull out my phone and swipe to his post from two days ago, a photo of daffodils on his nightstand.

Ryland.Anderson.Official: Dear Little Lark, I miss your sunshine and your bright light. You are the best part of me. Without you, my life has lost meaning. You are my whirlwind.

He didn’t come yesterday or this morning. Nor has he posted on his social media.

Has he given up on us?

A heavy melancholy blankets me, dulling the colors of my world to dreary shades of gray.

I sit at my bay window and stare at the streets below. Pedestrians walk around construction workers climbing on scaffolding placed over a red-bricked building across the street. A small group of people line up in front of a new art gallery around the corner. The late afternoon sun shines brightly on this beautiful New York spring day and the skies are clear of smog, the rain from two days ago having washed all the grime away.

My “auditing” of the spring quarter is ending. Projects are completed, final presentations will be in two weeks, then graduation ceremony in early June. I’m slated to start at Cornell, my dream school and my brother’s alma mater, for my PhD program in the fall.

Everything is working out the way things should be. My dreams are coming true, one by one.

But there’s an empty, dark hole in my heart, a cavern that seems impossible to fill. My mind wanders back to my last conversation with Ryland, and I wonder if I was too harsh on him, and if I should’ve given him a chance. It’s funny how your mind works against you sometimes. But I know I made the right choice. After all, he gave up on us so easily before.

I have to protect myself.

And if he does the same thing again this time, then, as painful as things are right now, my heartstrings being yanked and nearly severed whenever I think of our memories together, it’ll be the right decision.

After all, I deserve more.

My phone chimes and a text message flashes on the screen.

Chloe

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