Page 1 of Fragments of You

Chapter One

Paisley

DEAR NASH,

It’s been two years since you left.

Two years since I’ve heard your laugh or seen your smile. Since I’ve looked into those sky-blue eyes—the ones that once held the promise of a future I now know I’ll never have with you. Two years since I’ve been writing you letters I will never send, trying to find a way to move on.

Even after all this time, I still struggle trying to understand why. Why did you leave? Why didn’t you take me with you? Why did you leave me behind as if I meant nothing? As if we meant nothing. For years, you were my life. My best friend... and then, more. You taught me how to climb my first tree. How to swim. How to drive a stick shift. How to kiss. How to love. How to live... My world began and ended with you. And then, one day, you were gone, just like that.

It’s taken me far too long to find peace with your decision, or at least a semblance of peace anyway. It didn’t happen the way I expected, but little by little, I found my way without you. And even though there are fragments of you stained on my heart that I will never be able to scrub clean, I’m ready to let you go now.

So this will be my final letter. Even though you will never read it, I needed to write it. To tell you, or rather myself, that it’s okay. That I forgive you. And that one day, I hope you find the peace I couldn’t give you.

I will love you until my last breath.

Paisley

TWO YEARS LATER...

“Well, what do you think?” I hold my arms wide, twirling in a wide circle so that my mother and sister can see every angle of the dress that squeezes my middle so tight I find it difficult to breathe.

“It’s perfect!” my sister announces, pushing the dark strands of her hair away from her face to get a better look at me. To anyone else, this may seem like an appropriate response, but I can feel the bitterness behind her words like blades slicing skin. “Felix is going to lose his shit when he sees you in this dress.” A smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes tugs at her lips.

My sister has had the biggest crush on Felix since she was a kid, but given the three-year difference, he never really paid her any mind. I assumed it was just a childish crush that would fade with time, and honestly, I thought it had. That is, until the day we announced our engagement. If the way she left the room wasn’t enough, the way she looked when she returned solidified this fact.

“Celine.” My mother gives my younger, and only, sibling a disapproving look. “Honestly, it’s like you were raised by wolves.”

“Are you calling yourself a wolf, Mother? Because I have noticed hair in some unusual places. It would explain a lot.” Celine’s grin is so wide, it practically splits her face in half, slipping back into her usual sass seamlessly.

My mom won’t say it, but secretly I know she’s looking forward to Celine living in a dorm room this fall. I think she was actually disappointed when Celine took a gap year after high school. I think she and my father were looking forward to some peace and quiet. At nearly nineteen, she’s made up for all the angsty teenage years my mother missed out on with me in droves. That was probably because I was too preoccupied with other things to give my mother any kind of real grief.

Blue eyes flash through my memory like a photograph, but I quickly push it away.

Not today. Not on the day that I’m trying on wedding dresses to marry another man. On this day, I will not think of him. I press my lips in a straight line, squaring my shoulders as I refocus on the two women in front of me.

My mother, used to Celine’s antics, simply shakes her head and turns her attention back to me.

“What do you think, dear?” She gestures to the dress.

What do I think?

I mean, it’s beautiful. Fitting where it should be—albeit a little too fitting in some areas and will definitely need to be let out a little—flowy where it should be, with just the right amount of lace, giving it an air of elegance. And yet, something doesn’t feel quite right.

“It’s beautiful. I’m just... not sure it’s me,” I admit. Though I’m not really sure I’ll find any dress I feel that way about. I’ve never been a dress person. My mom used to try to make me wear dresses to church, but that lasted all of about five minutes. I spent most of my teens showing up for Sunday service in cut-off jean shorts and flip-flops. I figured God didn’t care what I was wearing, only that I was there.

“Then we keep looking.” She gives me a soft nod, her blue eyes a stark contrast to her pale skin and near-black hair—a feature she did not pass on to me.

In fact, I look very little like my mother and sister. Both are lean, whereas I’m more of an athletic build. My mom says it’s because I spent all those years climbing trees and running through corn fields. Where they both have straight dark hair and blue eyes, my hair is a deep auburn with unruly waves and my eyes are the same green as my father’s. The only similarity we really share is our height—not a single one of us standing taller than five foot four.

“Seriously?” Celine audibly groans, voicing her displeasure. “You’ve tried on at least a hundred dresses already.”

“Celine.” My mother stops her before she can say more.

I don’t have a single doubt that my mother forced Celine to come along today, just like every other day we’ve done this. She hasn’t done very well at hiding her annoyance at being forced to endure my company. I think it’s safe to say my sister is not my biggest fan. It used to bother me, the fact that my only sibling seemed to hate me for reasons I’ve never fully understood. But as the years have passed, so has the acceptance.

She is my sister and I love her, and I know in her own way, she loves me too. But that doesn’t mean we have to like each other.

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