Page 97 of Unspoken Words
I blinked, barely able to speak. “A broken ever after?”
“Yeah. But it’s also an ‘And’. You know, to symbolise more.”
For quite possibly the tenth or one-hundredth time in my life, Connor Bourke stole my air, and I slowly lowered myself to sit at the table, unlatching my watchband to show him the small heart I had tattooed on my wrist. “I trace it when I miss you the most,” I admitted, tears blurring my vision.
His warm, soft fingers brushed the ink. “Ellie, I’m so sor—”
“Don’t.” I retracted my hand and secured my watch. “I can’t do this here.”
“Then let’s go somewhere else and get this over with.”
“What?”
“We need to talk. You need to yell. I need to let you yell. And then we both need to cry and hold each other.”
“But, Connor—”
He took my hands and pulled me back onto my feet. “Come on. It’s long overdue.”
*
We pulledup outside anold but cute weatherboard home, and I followed Connor along a small path until he was sliding his key into the lock of his front door.
“So this is your house, huh?”
He stepped inside and held the door open for me. “Yep. This is me and Maxey.”
I went to enter but paused when a ray of sunlight shone through the stained glass feature of the door, illuminating a trout splashing out of the water. I laughed. “Hey, that looks like Trevor.”
Connor shrugged somewhat sheepishly. “ThatisTrevor.”
“What?” My eyes met his.
He touched the trout with a sweet fondness. “I kiss it when I miss you the most.”
I whacked his smartarse arm but couldn’t help smiling. “You do not.”
He chuckled. “You’re right, I don’t. But I smile every time I open and close the door because he’s a little piece of you I get to see every day.”
My chest seized at his words, tight and heavy, my heart thumping quick and strong. It was all too much, seeing him again—the memories, the love, the hurt, and the shame. I didn’t know how much more of it I could relive before I crumbled before him. I’d tucked everything that was Connor and I into a box and buried it deep within. No key. No map. It wasn’t supposed to resurface. It wasn’t supposed to be found, least of all by me.
So I diverted my gaze from his and kept moving along his entryway only to find adult boots paired on the floor next to toddler boots, another gut-punching reminder of his life—the life he was meant to live with me.
Taking in a deep breath, I exhaled slowly and moved farther into his house, mentally bracing myself for the conversation we were about to have. Wounds would soon be reopened and new ones created, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that or if it was the right thing to do. We’d both moved on, created new lives, and I now realised that some thingswerebetter left unsaid.
He’d taught me that.
“Just through here is the kitchen and lounge room.” Connor directed me into another room and, all of a sudden, I felt intrusive.
He had the bare minimum of furniture: a black leather sofa, TV, stereo, and a coffee table. The style was a typical bachelor pad apart from a toddler table and chairs, and bursts of coloured toys in tubs neatly stacked in the corner.
“Take a seat.” He plumped a cushion for me. “Can I get you a drink?”
“A water would be good.”
Connor disappeared behind a wall, and I heard a refrigerator open and close together with the clang of glasses.
“Do you prefer tap or bottled?” he called out.
