Page 62 of Our Hearts Knew Better

I do miss Rosalee Bay. I almost ordered a water bed once to simulate being at sea.

That town was where I learned to breathe. It was where I learned what breathingis.

And for too long, longer than just this past year, if I’m honest, I’ve just been holding my breath.

My face softens as I watch Clarissa chow down. I love her, too, and I appreciate her effort. The flaw? Leaving means leaving Adam…alone.

Adam’s already abandoned his own philosophies—himself. I can’t let him think I don’t care about him or us.

One more time.

“I can’t abandon him when he needs me,” I say from the thought before adding an inarguable fact. “He was there for me when I needed him.”

“And he’s not anymore,” she supplies nonetheless, reminding me what basically everyone in my life has done. “He’s abandonedyouand your feelings, just like your dad, just like…” She uses her fork to write an L in the air over her plate, and it takes her a couple strokes before it registers.

I sigh around a big bite. “He got handed a life sentence he never wanted.”

“We could still be talking about you too.”

“This won’t be forever.” I push the assurance, mostly to myself, one I’ve chanted so many times.

Then I drop my fork and grip both hands around the edge of the island, saying as an almost helpless seeking hiss, “What kind of person would I be if I left him when he’s like this?”

Clarissa scrunches a corner of her mouth before she says, “The same person who didn’t go see your dad when he had a heart attack. Because he doesn’t deserve you,” she adds quickly, with a wide stare and pointedly raised brows that give my insides a squeeze, another silent laugh. “But so, even if it’s not forever,” she continues when that’s the only response she gets, “what about the other half of your heart?” She strokes her fork over her food again and I snatch it, holding it up until she gives me herokay, I’ll stopface, with her hand held out, smiling.

At least one of us can still smile and mean it.

I chew, glancing at the closed bedroom door, my swallow hard and bland. The squash is losing its flavor. “He’s a choice I made.”

“You didn’t have another one,” Clarissa says at the tail as she stacks her fork and stretches her mouth to fit it all in.

Adamwasthe one I started to have feelings for after Levi turned mine for him away.After he lied to me.

“Reexamine that,” she adds with a nod, like we’re back in biology, leaning over a microscope.

I have. I’ve examined everything from every angle. And yes, I’m always brought right back towhat could have been. The impossible notion to move on from completely.The one that got awaycrap. Some advice? Don’t ever have a one who got away.

In my case, it’s whatshouldhave been. Double dose of impossible.

“So you made a choice, but this isn’t what you signed up for,” Clarissa continues, meshed through her chewing, reminding me I need to start responding, because when I don’t, it just keeps her going.

“He didn’t sign up for this, either.” The sound of my voice is stating, not defending.

“True, but you’re still choosing to let his grief and misery become yours.”

I focus in on a circle of squash and fork around seasoning chunks. Grief seems to follow me no matter what I do or where I am.Trained.

“It could be worse,” I whisper.

“It could be better,” she counters, the tongs of her fork dangerously close to my face. “You’re really letting your old self down.”

I wince at her throwingthatpunch.

“Something’s gotta give. Right? You both can’t trudge through your livesforever.”

I give her a pointed glare I only half feel.We won’t be.

“Is this gonna be our first conversation of every day now?” I ask as a tease, bending to the possibility with an undercurrent of dread.

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