Page 48 of The Two Halves of My Heart

I reached for her and gathered her to my chest. Her arms snaked around me, and I contemplated stealing her away forever. But I couldn’t. I was the bigger person here, and this would enable all of us to move on.

“This is goodbye, isn’t it?” Her voice rumbled against my chest.

She felt so right, pressed against my body and protected by my arms. If there were a way to freeze this moment, I would have done. I stepped back but kept our hands joined in front of us. “Yeah. I couldn’t drag this out, I’m sorry.”

“I thought we’d have the summer. You always made it special.”

“We always made it special. But it’s complicated, and I’m tired of watching what I say and do around you, Grace. It hurts too much. This is the best for all of us. Maddison as well. I’ve done the hard part.”

“When will I see you again?” She looked down at our joined hands and examined them as if she was trying to work out how to separate one from the other.

“I don’t know. But I need to go because nobody is truly happy right now, and that’s all I want for you.”

“We can find a way. It will get easier… or…”

“Shhh. It’s done. But I can’t leave without doing this.”

I cupped her head in my hands and kissed her gently, cradling her like the precious being she was. As my lips pressed against hers, I felt her body soften, surrendering to my actions. Years of pent-up anguish and need coursed through me at finally tasting her—feeling her against my skin. She was soft and warm and tasted of strawberries.

But it was a stolen moment—one etched permanently on my soul. I pulled away, ending the all-too-brief kiss that would now replace the one that had been haunting me these past weeks.

Her eyes glistened with more tears as I drank her in, desperate to memorise every last detail of her face. She didn’t realise this wasn’t a temporary goodbye. She believed that in a few months, I might visit or we’d be in contact again.

Call me a coward, but I couldn’t tell her the full truth—that the only way to get over Grace Shaw was to cut her from my life completely. Along with the brother I’ve spent half of my life fighting with, over her.

Love, to some, means sacrifice. Well, I’d just paid the highest price.

---