Page 156 of Come Break My Heart Again

Her smile is unexpected. “Ryder didn’t share that part of the story.”

“It was dumb.”

“I’d call it brave. We should all be lucky enough to be loved that fiercely.”

I stare down into my tea, saying nothing. I’ve already shared too much.

Everyone else has moved on. I need to stop dragging the past into the present.

“Elle,” Nina says softly, “I don’t have any answers or explanations. But I want you to consider something. It’s our nature to shield the people we love from pain and suffering. If I could have passed away peacefully without telling my boys about this disease that’s going to kill me slowly, I would have. You think Ryder allowing others to visit him means he cared about you less? Have you ever considered that it was because he loved you more?”

Almost exactly what Tucker told me.

“Loved me so much that he refused to see me for seven years? That he let me spend seven years thinking …” I exhale.

“I don’t think he thought you’d spend seven years thinking anything.” The words are quiet. Kind.

Ryder thought I’d forget about him. It’s not an unreasonable assumption to make about seven years. For most people—for normal people—that should have been plenty of time to heal and move on.

Just not me.

And, logical or not, I’m offended he thought so little of me. Of us.

Nina reaches, flipping through a stack of mail and pulling out a white envelope.

She pushes it across the table toward me. “Ryder asked me to give this to you.”

I already realized it was from him. I trace the familiar scrawl of his handwriting, feeling the indentations in the paper where he slashed the two L’s in my name.

I’m dying to read it … and also terrified to.

We’re a tightrope, and I’m never sure which side I’ll fall on.

“Thank you,” I say.

Nina nods, then sips her tea. “How’s Scout doing?”

Neither of us mentions Ryder for the rest of my visit.

32

Ryder,

It’s been five months since I saw you. I promised I wouldn’t come back, and I keep my promises.

One of us should.

I got the last of my college letters today. Acceptances, every single one. You’d probably tease me about that. Call me a nerd or a know-it-all.

I’m so ready to leave. It doesn’t feel like it matters, where I go.

There’s no way for me to tell if you’re getting these letters, but I think that you are. I’ve been making excuses for why you’re not responding, but I’m running out of them.

I hope you’re okay. I’m sure it’s hard, where you are.

And I hope it haunts you, how you ended things. If that’s terrible for me to say, I don’t really care. You broke my heart. So, here’s another promise: you never will again.

You got your wish. We’re over. I guess we’re a cat’s game.

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