Page 54 of Forget Me Not

She smirks, her fingers flexing in the back of my t-shirt and her blunt nails lightly raking the skin of the back of my neck. I grit my teeth, forcing the sudden growing agitation in my stomach back down.

Whoever this Jack guy is, he fucked a lot of shit up before he left. Wherever he is, I hope he’s damned miserable because leaving a girl like Nova . . . how stupid do you have to be?

Just as stupid as you, my head chimes and the cold realization sets on me.

This girl deserves better than me.

Forcing myself to step back, I pull away from her.

“I . . .”

“I know, Nova.”

She pauses, her gaze studying my face and trying to pick apart my sudden change in mood.

She wasn’t meant for me.

I hold a hand out for her, to help her back down from the table.

“Come on,” I murmur. The rain has stopped outside and with the storm’s passing, the reality of the situation sets in, leaving a pit in my stomach and a sadness in her eyes.

Nova can never be mine.

“I’ll walk you home.”

There’s something peaceful about the hammock swinging between the two tall oak trees behind the cottage. I’ve spent a lot of time here over the years, spending summers with Gran and Pap on the island. It’s the perfect place to read, draw, literally do anything because it’s so quiet, you could fall asleep.

After Founder’s Day, I woke up sore and tired and in need of some peace. So, I took my sketch pad, pencils, and a light throw off the back of the couch to my favorite spot and promptly fell right to sleep, Toast at my side.

It’s not until the shuffling of footsteps sounds near me that I jump awake, nearly toppling out of the hammock, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Relax,” a soothing, yet familiar voice says from the tree line. “It’s just me.”

I pause, looking up to find Jack standing above me, his eyes soft and a smile on his lips.

I’m confused, trying to figure out what’s going on. He shouldn’t be here right now.

“Jack?” My voice sounds different to my own ears. Like I’m underwater. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, baby.” Jack kneels beside me, placing his hand on my foot and . . . I can’t feel it. His eyes crinkle at the corners with a smile, his sandy hair blowing in the breeze.

He’s so handsome. Sometimes it’s hard to look at him.

“When are you coming home?”

Home?

“I don’t know.” I shake my head because I’m struggling to understand what’s happening. Why is he here?

“Well, you need to come home soon . . . we have a lot to do.”

“Jack . . .” I start carefully, sitting up in the hammock. I take his hand in mine and I’m surprised when his fingers are icy cold. “Jack,” I try, again, desperately struggling to wrap my mind around what’s happening. “Why are you here? I told you I needed space.”

“What do you mean?” His face falls, full of disbelief, and it hurts knowing that I’m hurting him. He’s not supposed to be here. If Gran and Pap see him . . . “I can’t come see my wife?”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” I rush, trying to reach for him again, but he tugs himself away from me. My chest cracks, guilt bubbling in my stomach like sour milk. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“You don’t want to see me.” The frown on his face is enough to make my chest ache. I hate seeing him sad. I always have. Even when things are bad between us, he’s still the boy I fell in love with as a kid.

---