Page 61 of It's Not Home Without You

I can’t do it anymore. I take a break from writing, trying to get my breathing under control. I never knew how hard it was to push through when you had a broken heart. I knew now. The pain was secondary to the memories, the laughter,and the love. Pain took a back seat to regret. It taunted me, reminding me I was throwing away the best thing in my life. The pain I could handle; it washispain that destroyed what I had left of my heart. Maximilian would hate me, but at least he would have everything that was rightfully his.

If this is how my mother felt, then maybe I judged her too harshly. I could see how easy it would be to grab a bottle and forget for a second, but the moment the alcohol left my body, the pain would come back. I preferredto endure it and learn to live with the ache because the ache would remind me that, at one point, I had it all.

If only for a moment.

I’m leaving town, Max. I hope that one day you find it in your heart to forgive me and think of the time we shared with fond memories. I know you will do great things.

Take care,

Freya

“Please… d-don’t h-hate me,” I cried in my empty room.

I left my grandpa a note, but I had a feeling he knew why I had to go. He wasn’t stupid. He saw the change in me after Max dropped me off from his family’s party. I took every single penny I had saved from working at Franny’s—money I had saved hoping to help Max pay for an apartment near his college. Mr. Dunnett wasn’t only taking Max from me but my whole family. I had nothing.

I waited until it was dark enough that no one would notice me when I went to the bus station. I never got to tell Rusty goodbye, and just like Max, he would hate me. I couldn’t look into my best friend’s eyes and tell him I had to go. He would think there was another way, but there wasn’t. I would not complicate Max’s life any more than I already had.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

What the fuck just happened?

I kept asking myself that question over and over, and I couldn’t find an answer I could live with. For once, I was glad my grandfather was away so he wouldn’t see me like this. I was a fucking mess.

How could I letit happen?

As soon as Max touched me, I was done fighting my feelings for him. I was starving for him. I had been ever since I left town. He was my home; with him, I wasn’t lost.I took a moment to feel loved, cherished, and protected.

Even if what we justshared was a lie.

God, the moment he entered me, I felt alive. I felt awake for the first time in years. I wasn’t only breathing and coasting through life, but I was living.

What did we do?

I took off my clothes like they were on fire. My whitedress wasruined and stained—even if the stain was one you couldn’t see, but I felt it, and I carried with me.

How could I do that with him? I knew how a betrayal felt. I hated Abigail, but I never intended to do this to her. I never expected this to happen. I turned the shower on, adjusting the water on the hottest setting, letting my skin burn, but it was the only way I knew I could get my skin clean.

I still felt cold.

The shower didn’t make me feel any cleaner.

Max and I had sex while he was still engaged toher, and if I was honest, I couldn’t regret it. It wassowrong, dirty and raw, but it was still beautiful.

It was us.

For a second, under the rain, in the alley, we were Max and Freya, just like when we were young. It was a different place, a different time, but those feelings we felt were still the same.

How could it be wrong when it was all I ever dreamed of and more? When Max kissed me, I forgot about everything that kept us apart. I couldn’t remember why I leftin the first place. The last seven years felt like it was only yesterday. Abigail was the last thing on my mind. I didn’t care for her, so I didn’t let myself think of her when he was kissing me… touching me… when he was inside me. But as soon as he set me down, his touch no longer felt good, it burned, and it shamed me. It made me into the girl everyone thought they knew.

Slutty Freya.

Sticks and stones only worked because I knew that whatever people thought of me was a lie. I knew that I was better than what everyone thought of me, but now I was precisely the girl everyone always thought I was.

I was a slut.

I slept with a man who didn’t have a girlfriend—no, it was much worse. He was engaged. For crying out loud, his wedding was weeks away. How could I keep living in this town when I couldn’t even look at my reflection in the mirror?

I was ashamed.

---