Page 45 of Summer's Echo
His voice was warm like the summer air. Echo’s creativity was almost lyrical, flowing like a song that only he could compose. He was always teaching me something new; his words a melody I never wanted to end.“That’s how I see you, Summer. Fragile, yet feisty as hell. Captivating…and I hope Iget to have a glimpse into the places you’llgo.”
Iwaslike that butterfly. Delicate yet unbreakable. Strong enough to make the hardest choices, even now. The butterfly dallied for a moment, its wings trembling against the breeze. And then, as if sensing its purpose had been fulfilled, it took flight, disappearing into the sky. I blinked, returning to the present. Deshawn was still waiting.
“Deep down, I think I always knew,” I admitted, my voice softer than I intended, “but I wanted a husband. A family. I didn’t want to disappoint you. Or our families. Shit, myself.” I swallowed hard. “I thought I wanted the future we planned, but every time I dreamed about the wedding…about my life…you weren’t in it. Not in that way.”
I heard a pointed exhale from across the room. “Damn,” he murmured, his head tilting back slightly, as if absorbing the final blow. He pushed out an exaggerated breath before he spoke again. “So, all this time…I was loving a woman who was just convincing herself to love me?”
I said nothing because he wasn’t wrong. But I had a question of my own. I turned, facing him for the first time since I’d shattered his world. “Was it truly love for you, Shawn?”
He stiffened the moment the words left my lips. The quiet was suffocating, like dust settling in an abandoned building. His jaw tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, but the sharp outburst I was bracing for never came. Instead, when I searched his pained brown eyes, I found it—his truth, his acceptance. Deep down, he already knew, but just didn’t want to be the one to say it first. Moments from the wedding planning phase flashed through my mind. The countless times I’d ask for his opinion, only to hear the same indifferent response:“Whatever you want is fine with me.”
At the time, I had convinced myself it was just his easygoing nature, that he trusted me to make the right decisions, but now, standing here in the thick of our unraveling, I realized the truth. It wasn’t trust. It wasn’t compromise.Deshawn would’ve married me, built a stable life, and made a home filled with warmth and routine, even if he never once felt butterflies. That was just who he was. He took what was given to him and made the best of it, always turning lemons into lemonade.
But me? I needed more. More than comfort, more than predictability. I wasn’t content with just making lemonade. I wanted an entire recipe of flavors, layers of something richer, deeper. I craved something that made my heart race, something that set my soul on fire. And that was the difference between us. He was willing to settle into a love that was unchanging and simple—something you built over time. But simple wasn’t enough for me. I wanted extraordinary—that dizzying, breathtaking, instant love that didn’t just spark once and fade, but an undeniable pull that lingered, even after a decade and then some.
He ran a hand over his face, exhaling curtly. “Damn,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I should’ve seen this coming.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but he lifted a hand, stopping me, not out of anger, but as if he just needed a second to gather himself. When he finally spoke again, his voice was low, almost tired.
“I guess…I guess I just kept telling myself that what we had was enough.” His lips pressed together, his eyes searching mine. “That maybe love—at least the kind that makes your heart race and your stomach flip—wasn’t as important as stability. As timing. As building a life together.” A long pause stretched between us, the revelation I’d already grappled with now taking over him. “But we were doing everything right, weren’t we? Right jobs, right plan, right time…”
“But not the right person,” I whispered, my voice barely there. “We were building a future, but we were never buildingforever.” I blinked rapidly, but the tears I’d been holding back finally released. Hurtful, yet healing. Even amid this unfolding, I felt like a coward. Guilt pressed against my ribs, making it hard to breathe because for so long, I knew the truth but ignored it.
“So, what now?” he asked, slowly walking toward me. His voice wasn’t cold. It wasn’t even accusatory. It was just…sad. Not because he was losing me—losingus—but because maybe he was ready to accept that he—we—deserved more than just safe. We deserved something real.
I sighed, stepping forward to meet him in the middle of the room. Unspoken words and quiet acceptance were like boulders clinging to our feet, overwhelming every step. Deshawn grasped my hands; his warmth caressed my skin. His touch had always been comforting, but tonight, it was a burdensome goodbye.
“So now…” My voice trailed off, barely making a sound, “we don’t choose love, we let love choose us.”
His eyes softened, filled with something I couldn’t quite name—understanding, sadness, maybe even relief. He lifted our joined hands to his lips, pressing a dallying kiss against my knuckles. Then, with a tenderness that made my heart hurt, he reached up and swiped away a lone tear rolling down my cheek. One last touch. One last moment. He leaned in, pressing a soft, almost absentminded kiss against the corner of my mouth. And then, just like that, Deshawn was gone.
Chapter Nineteen
Echo
October 2019, The Day After the Wedding that Wasn’t
Maxell and I pulled into my parents’ driveway a little after six o’clock in the evening. After leaving Summer earlier, I’d picked him up to ride with me to the camp so I could get her car. He had a lot of questions, and I wasn’t in the mood to answer a single one.
“Okay, this is my last question, and hopefully, your grumpy ass will answer it,” Max said, just as he was about to slip into the driver’s seat of my car while I climbed into Summer’s. I raised an irritated brow, silently urging him to hurry the hell up.
“Are you gonna give her space, or are you all in?” he asked.
I eyed him warily because, damn, that was a good question. The logical part of me knew she needed space after what could only be described as the most catastrophic event in her life to date. She had a lot of things to figure out, to fix, and giving her time made sense. But I also knew me. And I knew that I couldn’t walk away.
“I’m all in,” I said, nodding as my eyes wandered toward our hidden place behind the trees. “I can’t go another ten-plus years…shit, ten days without her.”
Maxell’s grin stretched wide. “My nigga. That’s what I wanted to hear.”
The quiet drive back alone was the reprieve I needed. I had no clue what was in store for us. I was leaving for LA in a few days, and God knows I wanted Summer with me. But I knew Summer all too well. She was probably lying in that tiny yellow bedroom, letting guilt swallow her whole. Guilt for ending her relationship. Guilt for choosing herself. And if I knew anything about Summer, that guilt would cloud every decision she needed to make, including being with me. After Maxell picked up his car, I sent Summer a text.
Me:Hey.
Sun:Hey.
Me:You good?
Sun:Taking a nap.
