Page 95 of Rewrite Our Story

I wasn’t expecting her to look so concerned. Her eyes track over my face as she takes in my sad expression. Mom sighs softly. “You know you can talk about her with me.”

I shake my head. “I can’t talk about her with anyone, Mom. I just can’t.”

Her eyes soften. She places her small hand against my cheek. I lean into it and allow a little bit of comfort from my mom. I’ve kept all these feelings bottled up for so long, maybe it’s time that I let some of them go and face them.

“I know how you feel about her,” Mom whispers. Her amber eyes, the same color as mine, roam over my face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.

Mom lets out a sad laugh. She lets her hand drop to her side before she backs away. Her hand smooths out the fabric of her dress as she takes a seat on the swing. She pats the spot next to her, silently inviting me to join her.

I sigh but follow her direction. The swing groans underneath my added weight. When Dad built it years ago, I think it was mostly a spot for Mom to sit with us while he did chores in the stables. It’s old and has withstood many Colorado winters, its sturdiness not the same as it used to be.

“From when Mare was little, I knew she had a crush on you.”

My heart sinks at Mom’s words. I look back at all my childhood memories, and it’s obvious to me Mare felt that way, but it isn’t something I like to think back on. It hurts too much. All I can think about in the end is how bad I hurt her. She spent all those years idolizing me, loving me, only for me to break her with a few words at the airport.

I left her standing in that airport four years ago, and it still hurts to think about. It’s like a bruise that won’t heal, one that throbs and aches no matter how much time passes. I rub my chest, trying to soothe the pain.

Realizing I have nothing to say to her comment, Mom keeps going. “She always looked at you like you were her hero. You could do no wrong in her eyes. As she got older, I’d wondered if she’d stop looking at you like that. I thought maybe she’d grow out of it and look at somebody else that way.”

A pit forms in my stomach at the thought of her ever looking at somebody else the way she used to look at me before I broke her heart. I shake my head, trying to rid myself of any thoughts about what she’s doing now orwhoshe’s looking at now.

I made sure I have no right to care about who she’s looking at and in what way. It doesn’t stop the dull ache in my heart at the thought. It’s burned in my memory how special it felt to be looked at by her like I was the world. I hate whoever has the honor now.

“Things never changed,” Mom continued, ripping me back from my jealousy. “And then one day, you were looking at her the same way.”

“Mom—”

“I don’t need any details. I know my son enough, and I know Mare well enough, to know that something happened between the two of you. I never said anything because I figured if one of you wanted me to know you would’ve told me. But still, I knew.”

“Nothing ever…” I sigh because I don’t want to lie to her. I’m tired of hiding that Mare was everything to me, and even though it’s been years, that wound still hasn’t healed.

“You haven’t been the same since she left. I know you’ve got to be hurting, but I can’t help but wonder if you’ve read Mare’s book. If you know how she feels…”

I clear my throat, feeling uncomfortable with the emotions running through me. “Why would I want to read it? I’m happy for her, Mom, truly I am. But I can’t read that. All I’ve ever wanted for her is to achieve every single one of her dreams, but I can’t read the words she’s written. It’s too much.”

“I think a lot of things would make more sense if you just read it.” She leans forward, grabbing the book and softly putting it in my lap.

I try to hand it back to her, but she doesn’t let me. “Have you ever really thought about her dreams?”

My head rears back at her silly question. Of course I’ve thought about her dreams. They’re all I thought about in the days leading up to her leaving, in the days after when I wondered if I should just drop everything at the ranch and fly to her and confess how fucking gone I was for her.

Her dreams were the only reason I never told her that I’ve spent many nights worrying that I’ll never be able to love somebody like I loved her.

Mom runs her fingers over the front cover. "Read the dedication. Read thebook. I think you might find out that while she has many dreams, her biggest one was alwaysyou.”

I look at my mom in disbelief, my head spinning from her words. There seems to be some hidden meaning laced within her sentences, but she seems hesitant to tell me more until I read the book.

Mom sighs before she grabs my hand and interlocks our fingers. The book falls in the space between us, and I’m relieved to no longer have it teasing me. I’m afraid at what I’ll find between the pages, at what I could discover in Mare’s words.

“I think the two of you have a lot to figure out. After reading her words, after seeing you be the shell of a person I know you to be since she left, I think there’s still a lot left unsaid. I’d hate to see a love story as beautiful as the two of yours end before it was meant to.”

“Mom,” I argue, wanting to tell her I’m incapable of getting my hopes up when it comes to Mare. I can’t have hope to have her again. I selfishly held onto it for days, months, years after she left. I’d tell myself that when she came back, I’d tell her everything. I wouldn’t hold back. She’d finally know how much I loved her. But she never came back. Eventually I had to come to terms with that. Some fictional book that Mare has published isn’t going to change things. Itcan’t. Because I can’t have hope of having her again and lose her. I won’t survive it.

“Cade Jasper Jennings, do as you're told and read this book. I’m going to book you a flight for the morning because I can tell you after reading what she’s written, you’ll want a flight. You can go or refuse, and I promise to not say another word about it either way. But I’ll only make that promise if you promise me to read the book.”

“I don’t know if I can.” My voice breaks. I’d be embarrassed if it was anyone but my mom sitting next to me.

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