Page 157 of Come Break My Heart Again

Elle

33

Elle,

I promised I wouldn’t write.

You’re right, that I’ve broken promises. This one I intended to keep. If you’re reading this, it’s another way I let you down.

I know you’re mad.

I know you hate me.

I made some mistakes. Little ones. Big ones. Add in some shitty luck, and I ended up here.

I’m stuck here. You’re not. And the only way I’m going to get through this, the only way I can live with the consequences, is knowing you’re out there, living.

You’re going to accomplish amazing things, Elodie Clarke. If I know one thing, it’s that. I feel lucky to have met you.

Since I’m writing this for selfish reasons, here are a few more things I want you to know:

I love you.

I miss you.

I’ll never forget you.

Maybe in another life.

Ryder

Salty air blows my hair straight out of my face. By the time the ferry hits shore, it’ll be a tangled mess.

I don’t care.

I stare out at the white-capped waves, my stomach tumbling with each rise and rock of the boat. Scout is on high alert by my side, focused on the other passengers walking past and the seagulls sailing by.

Some ocean spray splashes over the railing and onto my arm. The July air is warm enough that the sprinkle feels good, but the water is colder than I expected. Maybe I won’t be swimming this weekend after all. I was hoping the temperature would have risen since my May visit.

Twenty minutes later, we disembark from the ferry.

There are three figures waiting alongside the vintage green Land Rover instead of the one I was looking for. I decided not to bother bringing my convertible this trip, so Keira was planning to pick me up.

I shade my eyes and dig through my bag for my sunglasses as best I can while juggling Scout’s leash and my luggage. The sun is sinking straight into golden hour. The ferry I just stepped off was the second to last of the day.

Scout barks as we approach the group. He’s happy to be on solid land again. But he’s straining toward one silhouette in particular.

It irks me that my dog likes Ryder. Likes him a noticeable amount, not just his normal friendliness.

It makes me wonder about all those silly things I decided were myths a long time ago—like destiny and fate and kismet. If there were forces that pushed me and Ryder together, not just pulled us apart.

“Here. Let me take him.” Ryder’s fingers are warm and calloused as he takes the leash from me. My shoulder is suddenly free from the weight of my weekend bag too.

I glance down at a wiggling Scout trying desperately to get Ryder’s attention. “He remembers you.”

“I’m hard to forget.”

My eyes flash up to his.

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