Page 89 of When We Are Complete

I can’t hold his gaze, and I look out the lighthouse windows, watching the snow swirl, my fingers pinching the outside of my thigh through my pants as I slowly count to nine. He was so honest with me, so open. I owe him the same, even if it scares the hell out of me.

“There’s something you need to know. Something I’ve never told you. I’m not who you think I am.” My words are barely a whisper.

He leans closer, his gaze steady. “Kelly, I know you better than anyone. You can tell me anything.”

“No, you don’t.” A wave of panic rises, a sick feeling, a warning not to keep talking, but I ignore it. At this stage, I’ve got nothing left to lose. “You think I’m this strong, driven person. Someone with her life together. But that’s not me. Not really.” The words tumble out, raw and jagged, as if I’m purging something I’ve buried for too long.

He’s silent, his hand giving mine a reassuring squeeze, but I can’t look at him. Not yet.

“After we broke up,” I say, each word a thorn in my throat, “I fell apart. More than you know. I ended up in treatment for an eating disorder. I—I was hiding so much, even from myself. It got so bad, and I’m still not completely better. If I don’t follow these rules, my rules, I’ll lose control of everything. And it’s not just food. There’s this anxiety that eats away at me, these obsessive thoughts, and I can’t always turn them off when things get stressful. My therapist is helping, but I’m never going to beat it. Not completely. It’s a part of who I am.”

His steady gaze is on me, but I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes. My hands are shaking, but he doesn’t let go, just waits patiently.

“I’ve always thought if I could just be perfect—if I could just keep it together, hold myself to a standard, I’d be okay. People would love me. Or at least, they’d have a reason to.”

I take a shuddering breath. “I was so scared of anyone seeing the real me. If you want people to love you, you need to stand out, you need to show them you’re worthy. God, I’m such a mess. At least my mom has no idea how much I messed up.” My voice wavers, tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I scrub them away.

His thumb rubs gentle circles over my knuckles, soothing the tremor in my hands.

“I’ve messed up so many times. Sometimes I’m scared I’m never going to get it right. And I don’t deserve—” I stop, my voice catching. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his thumb still moving over my knuckles. I finally force myself to look up, half-expecting pity or disappointment. But all I see is something raw, deep, and unbreakable. He leans closer, his other hand coming up to cup my cheek. “I don’t care about perfect. I never did. I just love you. All of you, just as you are. The parts you think are too much, the things you’ve hidden—none of it makes me love you any less.”

I shake my head, the words too big, too impossible. “But I’m not strong.”

“Hey,” he says softly, pulling me closer, his hand against my cheek. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. No one is. Not me, not you. None of us are. But we don’t have to be alone in it either.” His voice breaks a little, and he takes a breath.

“What made you so wise all of a sudden?”

“Let’s just say a certain newly minted fourteen year old helped talk some sense into me. I get it, okay? I’ve spent so long focusing on the wrong things. But I see it now. I see that’s not what you need. You just need me. Here, with you. To see you.”

His words settle deep, brushing against old wounds, old scars.

“You don’t have to be anything but yourself,” he says. “That’s who I love. The real you. And if you let me, I’ll be here, for the good and the bad. I’m here, and I’m not leaving. Iseeyou, Kelly.”

His words split my heart wide open, and words tumble out of me, unfiltered, like they’ve been held back for years—and maybe they have been.

“I spent my whole life trying to make Mom happy. This job, this festival, it was supposed to be my chance to really make her memory proud. But I was fooling myself, trying to make sense of this guilt. Because no matter what happens with the festival,she’s never going to see it. She’ll never get to see anything I do. I’ll never know if it would’ve been enough. I’ll never know if I would’ve been enough for her.”

Jake nods slightly. He’s absorbing every word, every cracked edge I’ve been trying to hold together. I keep going, the words rising up as the dam bursts, a flood I can’t stop.

“Because that’s all I’ve ever wanted. Just once, to know I hit the mark without having to jump through hoops or set myself on fire to do it. That I’m enough just by being me.” I give a half-laugh, bitter and aching. “It’s a childish wish, maybe.”

A single tear slips down my cheek, and Jake reaches out, catching it with his thumb. “You can cry Kelly. You lost your mom. You can scream and shout if you need to.”

More tears blur my vision, and before I can stop them, they’re sliding down my cheeks, hot against the cold air inside the lighthouse. I bury my face in my hands, my sobs filling the silence. I cry until I can barely breathe.

I cry for the mother I lost, for all the years I’ve spent trying to prove myself to her, for the fear that if I let anyone see the real me, they’d turn away. I cry for everything I’ve held in, every wall I’ve built up, every crack in my heart I’ve tried to patch over.

Jake’s strong arms go around me, his hand stroking my back, his presence unwavering. He doesn’t say anything. He just holds me. He’s willing to carry the weight with me, to stay in this moment for as long as I need.

After what seems like an eternity, the sobs start to fade, and I pull back, wiping at my tear-streaked face, lighter. I’ve shed something too heavy to carry any longer.

Jake’s eyes are soft as he looks at me, brushing a stray hair from my face. “Your mom might have been hard on you, but I know how proud she was. And she’d be proud of the woman you are today.”

A surge of emotion rises up, and before I can second-guess it, I press my lips to his, the kiss full of all the pain and longing and love I have for this man in front of me. He kisses me back, his hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer, filling every empty, hollow space inside me.

In that moment, with the storm raging outside and his arms around me, I feel something I haven’t felt in years. Like I’m whole. Seen. And, maybe for the first time, that I’m finally enough.

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