Page 26 of Broken Hearts

Chuckling, I pour coffee into my mug. “Why should you be? You deserve to be happy, and that man really cares for you.”

She leans back against the counter and smiles as she brings the cup up to her lips. “He does, doesn’t he?”

You thought the same about Cole… how wrong were you then?

Cole and I… I often find myself lost in the what-ifs and whys. Our relationship, if it could even be called that, was a tapestry of hidden moments and silent understandings woven together by a thread of unspoken promises. It was an unintended connection, yet it happened.

The first time I saw his vulnerability is still vivid in my mind. Beyond the charisma and athleticism, he was a boy crushed under heavy expectations and cruel labels. His reaction to failing a math test — frustration and self-derogatory remarks — struck a deep chord in me. It was then that I began to see him differently, feeling an urge to help.

Our math tutoring sessions had only been going for a few weeks when he unexpectedly showed up at my house, climbing through my bedroom window while slightly intoxicated. The sight of his failed math test, marked with a red forty-five percent, was a stark revelation of his usually hidden struggles. His confidence had shattered, leaving him openly broken.

Slumped in a chair, he muttered about his own perceived stupidity. The fight within him was palpable, his usual bravado slipping away. That night, he confided in me about his dyscalculia and the long-standing battle with math it had caused. His vulnerability, so raw and real, brought us closer in a way I hadn't anticipated.

“We can work through this, Cole,” I reassured him, my voice steady despite my racing heart. “Knowing the cause is half the battle. There’s no shame in it. You’re amazing, and this is just another challenge to overcome.”

His gaze lifted to meet mine, filled with disbelief and vulnerability. “You think I’m amazing?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

“Yes,” I affirmed, feeling a surge of emotions. “You make me feel…” I hesitated, struggling to articulate the depth of my feelings.

At that moment, our dynamic shifted. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my skin. “You make me feel like a hero,” he whispered, and then his lips met mine in a tender, exploratory kiss. It was my first kiss, an experience of sweet surrender, stepping into a realm filled with both terror and exhilaration.

Before Cole, I was the music-obsessed girl with a few extra pounds, largely ignored by the athletes my father coached. Cole saw me differently. His piercing blue eyes, wicked grin, and possessive touch ensnared me. I didn’t seek gentleness; I craved every facet of him. For a time, I believed his affection for me was genuine, that his history of flings was behind him, and that I was different.

Surrendering to him, body and soul, seemed inevitable, swept away by the perfection of our private moments. They were passionate yet tender, a beautiful paradox that mirrored Cole’s complexity. This dream was fragile, and he shattered it, leaving me teetering on the edge. In a moment of acute anguish, I came perilously close to ending it all—a moment that has left a deep scar on my soul.

I can’t forgive him for that moment, and perhaps even more so, I struggle to forgive myself. It serves as a stark reminder of a time when I lost myself in someone else, only to find myself alone and shattered in the aftermath. This experience has become a painful lesson, teaching me a level of vulnerability I can never allow again.

“…with me?”

“Sorry, what?”

“You’re on the moon?” Her light tone shows she’s not offended. “I asked if you wanted to come to Ethan’s game today. He has three premium seats.”

The idea of watching Cole Westbrook play seems as appealing as stabbing myself in the eye with a rusty spoon.

“I-I’m not sure. I have a new job, and I have to check the schedule.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “I’ve been a terrible friend! I didn’t know that.”

Softening a bit, thoughts of Cole are momentarily forgotten. “No, you’re a good friend. The best of friends. It’s really new! Even Nessa doesn’t know.”

Nessa, who thinks she’s so smooth and that I don’t see her disappear to meet Liam Ashford. I’m not sure why she’s keeping it a secret, but it’s her right to do so.

“I’m giving violin lessons at the community center for a few hours a week. I’ve only given a couple of classes; I’m still on trial.”

“And do you like it? Teaching?”

I think about it and nod. “It’s not what I was planning, but it keeps the violin a part of my life. I thought that cutting it out was for the best, but I missed it too much.”

Poppy takes a sip of her coffee. “I think it’s part of you. I mean, I’ve never had such a gift, but—” She stops talking, looking sheepish.

Raising an eyebrow, a curious question emerges. “How do you know I was gifted?”

“I—” She gives me a guilty smile. “I went online and listened to you play, and Eva…” She rests her hand on her chest. “This is a part of you.”

A familiar lump forms in my throat, and I struggle to clear it. “Yes,” I manage to say. Clearing my throat again, I add, “I’ll let you know about the game in a bit. Let me grab my phone.”

Walking back into my room, I take a couple of deep breaths. I know that Poppy’s intentions are good, and she’s right— cutting the violin completely is like erasing a part of myself.

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