Page 26 of A Thousand Broken Pieces

His skin was rough from the short stubble under my palm. I swallowed. I’d never touched a boy this closely before. Cael held his breath, but when my finger ghosted over his cheekbones and down his tattooed neck, he exhaled and closed his eyes. This moment was a respite. We were breathing the same air, and we were sharing our pent-up pain. Sharing our secrets in the safety of the cocoon we had created.

I could have stayed this way forever.

Then, a drop of rain hit my cheek, followed by another in quicksuccession. Remembering my journal, I broke from Cael and quickly grabbed hold of it. I brought it to my chest, just as the heavens opened and the rain began to pour. “This way,” Cael said and grabbed hold of my arm. We didn’t run toward the house; instead, we raced toward the shore and a roofed jetty that sat beside the rowboats.

I ran after Cael, and the surge of energy it took to bolt from the torrential shower made a heady, unexpected burst of laughter spill from my lips. Cael’s hand gripped me tighter as the foreign sound sailed into the air and seemed to explode like a firework above us.

As we reached the jetty and ducked underneath the pitched roof, I leaned over and fought to find my breath. White puffs of smoke created a cloud around me, until my lungs calmed and my pulse slowed to a steady beat.

The rain pattered on the wooden roof, but inside the jetty was dry. I lifted my head and saw the lake spread before us, the pitched roof making a picture frame of the famous stretch of water. “Beautiful,” I whispered, overcome by the sight. Ducks swam joyfully in the torrent, raindrops causing thousands of ripples to flutter over the lake’s surface.

I tore my attention from the view and brought it to Cael, and my heart sank. Guilt quickly took me in its hold. “Cael,” I said, hearing the shame in my own voice. He was staring at the view too. But his spine was straight, and his jaw was tight. I feared he’d shut down again. “I’m so sorry.”

I didn’t think he was going to answer me, or even acknowledge my apology, back to the distant Cael he’d been since we arrived. I wouldn’t blame him. I had never spoken to anyone so badly in my entire life. He was only trying to help me, and I threw that act of care right back in his face.

I left my apology floating in the stagnant air around us, allowing the sound of the rain to fill the uncomfortable, awkward silence. Without taking his eyes off the lake, he said, “You sound beautiful when you laugh.”

My sunken heart jumped back into my chest and began to pound at the unexpected utterance of those six words. Cael moved to the edge of the jetty, and sat down, letting the cold breeze kiss his face. It didn’t go unnoticed that he had left a spot for me beside him, an unspoken invitation for me to sit down too.

Clutching my journal, I did just that.

“Cael—” I went to apologize again, when he said, “I’m sorry about your sister.”

Just the mention of Poppy closed my throat. “Thank you,” I rasped out. I wondered if he would push anymore. But he didn’t. I traced Poppy’s handwriting on the cover of the notebook. I could just picture her in her window seat in her bedroom writing this. Even with all that she had been fighting, she had still thought of me.

“She was called Poppy,” I found myself sharing. I thought I’d be shocked that I’d spoken her name out loud. But I’d found that when it came to Cael, some deep part of me knew he was safe. Cael sighed and crossed his legs, resting his elbows on his knees. He was giving me the space and time I needed to speak.

I blinked away tears. “She had cancer.” I held the journal to my chest. I tried to fool myself that it was like receiving a hug of support from my sister herself. “She died just under four years ago after a long and tiring battle.”

Cael’s head bowed, almost like he was in prayer. I cleared my throat of its tightness and said, “She was my rock. My ship’s anchor, and I’ve been unmoored ever since.”

Minutes passed in complete stillness. I stared at the snow on the distant peaks. I’d never seen snow fall. I’d hoped I would see it here, but the English winter had only graced us with gray skies and endless rain. The notebook slipped from my lap as I adjusted my legs and landed in front of Cael. I realized that the rain had begun to slow, and then a large cloud cleared, and the sun came back out to cast its golden rays all around us.

A familiar halo over the lake.

I went to reach for the notebook, but Cael was already holding it out for me. A slither of sunlight had escaped through the wooden panels in the jetty walls and was spotlighting Cael’s outstretched hand … like Poppy was reaching out to him too.

I placed my hand on his and lowered it back to his knee. Cael frowned in confusion. “Poppy left this notebook for me,” I explained. “Today was the first time in almost four years that I’ve been able to open it.” His eyes widened. “I’ve only read the first page. That’s what I had just read when you found me.” Sympathy engulfed his face.

“Here,” he rasped, and held out the notebook again, like it was made from glass, and he was afraid it would break in his hands. That sunbeam landed on his hand again. And I felt it. Felt Poppy guiding me to share this … to share my pain.

“Read it,” I said, and Cael’s face paled. He began to shake his head no. I placed my hand on his again and turned the cover to reveal Poppy’s first entry to me. “Please,” I said, then added, “It would be nice for someone here to know her too.”

I saw stark fear in Cael’s expression at my request. But whatever he saw in mine made him look down and begin to read. I closed my eyes, and tipped my head back, letting the cool breeze run through my rain-dampened hair. I let a small smile grace my lips when I smelled a familiar hint of snow and sea salt … then what appeared to be vanilla.

There was only one person I knew who smelled like that.

The feeling of a hand covering my own broke me from my peace. I opened my eyes and looked down at those hands, only for Cael to turn them over. He threaded his fingers through mine, grasping hard. He had placed the notebook down on the ground.

Butterfly wings fluttered in my chest. More so when I saw his free hand protectively covering Poppy’s beautifully handwritten script. “He killed himself,” Cael said, barely loud enough for my ears to detect. But I heard it. I heard it, and although it was an almost silent confession, it was as effective as a scream in a large cave, echoing off the walls and slicing through my heart.

Cael’s grip tightened even more in mine.

“Cael—”

“My big brother. Cillian. He … I—” He shook his head, cutting off his shaking voice, unable to carry on. “I’m sorry, Sav. I can’t—I can’t talk—”

My soul ached at that news. My heart screamed in pain. I couldn’t imagine that. I couldn’t imagine losing Poppy or Ida in such a tragic way. I wouldn’t be able to bear it. How did you ever move on from a loss like that?

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