Page 62 of Unfinished Summer

Now

I’m trapped. I’m that girl again. Young, naive, and vulnerable, and there’s nothing I can do.

My heart pounds in my chest, ripping me open with every beat, and the sobs overtake my body as if they’re racing to be set loose—finally free after being locked away for so many years.

The pain is even worse now than before. Or maybe it’s different now I have a sphere of reference to consider it against—the highlights of my life and the lows, like the divorce. It feels like I’m mourning the life I only half lived.

We slump down onto the sand, exhausted, but Jayce still locks me in his grasp, and I let myself take comfort for the first time in so many years.

My marriage was built on friendship and companionship. There was little tenderness or real love. Not the way I remember it, at least. Being wrapped in Jayce’s arms again after so long makes this so much more intense. The memories swarm in my head and conspire in my mind, painting pictures of what-ifs and could haves.

The baby wasn’t something I wanted. But I did want Jayce—I wanted the dream of what we could have been together. And instead of moving on and enjoying my life, I let what happened to me warp and take over every aspect of me.

He’s right. I can’t blame him for what happened, but it was easier to blame him than myself.

Hate is easier to hold on to than letting go of the pain.

“I wrote. I sent you an email, but I didn’t get one back. By the time the postcards arrived…” I trail off. He should know. Considering I’ve told him everything now.

“It doesn’t matter now,” he whispers. Well, it sort of does. But I can see why he’s saying that. “How about that drink?” His voice rumbles in my ear, and I pay attention to the gentle kisses he’s planting over my head.

“Rain check?” I ask, unable to comprehend moving or getting up, let alone dragging myself to the bar after our little show.

“Do you mean that?” He lessens his hold, and I shift to see his face.DoI mean that?

“I think so.” It was true. Despite my best efforts and a lifetime of hatred, I don’t feel as angry anymore. Something has changed.

“I’ll walk you back.” Jayce stands and pulls me with him. I see a slight grimace cross his features for a moment, but then he looks right at me, and it’s forgotten.

His eyes are sad, and I realise that with everything I confessed, I did what I wanted in the first place—to hurt him, but now I see it, staring back at me in his beautiful soulful eyes, I want to take it all back.

The pain I see cracks me open all over again, and I turn away and dash the hot tears from my face. They’re like a tap, and the rusty old thing is stuck wide open. My sniffs and deep breaths serve to lessen the flow, and I focus on the tiny grains of sand on the beach.

Think about something else. Think about something else.

Jayce takes my hand and leads me back towards Molly’s.

I keep my head down but don’t fight him. Not anymore. He doesn’t stop at the café and keeps going until we’re back at my doorstep. We don’t say a word the entire time. I let go of his hand and open the door to head in, but I can’t help but turn back to him. He simply nods at me and walks off. Heading for that drink, perhaps.

The door snicks as I press my hands to the wood and press it closed. I take a deep breath to centre myself before heading to my room, glad that the house is empty. As I step into my childhood bedroom, the window calls to me, drawing me further into the room. I glance out and watch Jayce as he walks out of view.

Was telling him the right decision? Although, I don’t think I had any choice in the end. It was too big a part of my past to keep locked away, and every day, it’s been harder to deny until I couldn’t contain it any longer. More than that, my history is still impacting my decisions years later.

A part of me—the heartbroken teenager part of me—hoped that my secret would stay hidden and that coming here wouldn’t dredge up the past. But I was as much a fool to think that as the girl who chose hate over bitterness all those years ago.

After everything I strived for when I left, I’m back here anyway—the place I wanted to escape and forget about, or more accurately, the pain that I associated with this place.

Hey, are you busy? Thought I could come up for a visit.

I text Tegan and see if I can escape and find a needed perspective away from Jayce, even if it’s down the road.

Um, sure. I’ll text you the address. I thought you didn’t have transport?

I’ll borrow Mum’s car. Or grab a taxi. I’m sure I can find a way.

I put my phone on the side and rinse my face in the bathroom. Looking up in the mirror, I don’t recognise the image staring back.

Gone is the confident and successful woman I’ve always seen looking back.

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