Page 25 of The Burnt Heart

“Fuck, even I got blood on me. Bastard was a squirter.” Jonah grumbled, sliding me a narrow eyed look, “is it really your birthday?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you that you didn’t get me a present.”

“What? A body isn’t a present?” He joked. If I wasn’t in such a foul mood, I might have indulged him but all I wanted to do was go home and wallow. Jonah pushed past me as we neared my car. There was a white box sitting on the bonnet, with a black ribbon tied around it. Jonah inspected it, his eyebrows inching up as he cracked open the note and read what was inside. He checked the inside of the box before waving me over.

“Happy birthday.” He ducked his head, cheeks faint pink. I frowned, taking the box as I slipped into the car.

Happy birthday Adelaide,

Your birthday always reminds we of the most amazing times we had together, especially when I coated you incream and licked it off. If we could be there with you tonight, know we would use all of our presents to make it one to remember. I know we’ll find our way back together and tonight we’ll be thinking about you.

We love you always,

Briar, Jesse and Logan.

Things must be dire if they left Jesse in charge of writing the card, of course he would find some way to bring up cream. I opened the box, determined to be unmoved. My heart thumped painfully at the carefully arranged gifts tucked in box. Magnesium salts with dried rose petals, bubble bath foam, jade roller, even a candle that had the label ‘This smells like please forgive me’. It was kitsch and I wanted to throw it all out the window and let them shatter on the bitumen. Instead, I opted for shoving it to the opposite side of the car. But the mingling scents taunted me, promising to knead out the ever present tension riding my shoulders.

“Pull over.” I couldn’t do it anymore.

“Boss?” Jonah eased the car out of the thick traffic. He grumbled as I hefted the box, taking it over to the closest trash can. The gifts tumbled out. I didn’t want anything from them. Not presents, and certainly not memories. I wasn’t going to wallow on my birthday, or let myself get trapped in thoughts of them like I had over the past few months.

14

Briar

Two Months Later

It was five minutes to our apartment, and I had no strength left. My mind was drowning in memories, as my feet walked unseeing. The rainwater dripping from the sky mirrored my sadness. I jostled the notebook tucked under my arm.

I’d tried to write about my past, but there was already so much ugliness in the pages. More than I could have ever imagined when I started writing my letters. I wish I could say that my self-loathing had lessened, but it only seemed to grow. An oiliness that smothered hope inside of me.

It had been two months since I’d seen Adelaide, and she wanted nothing to do with me or the others. Logan was due back today from another trip, and Jesse was out on a walk. We both knew that meant stalking Adelaide. Not that I wantedor deserved their company. I preferred the scathing lash of the voice in my head. I couldn’t face the millions of regrets that I kicked myself with again today. Jesse’s fixation on starting our gym had transferred into haunting Adelaide’s footsteps. I still fussed with the numbers, not willing to let go of the opportunity yet. I poured myself into Fostering Futures and worked my shifts at the gym. It kept my mind off the too silent house. Then I dedicated time to writing my letters, trying to put into words my regret and sorrow for the pain I’d caused Adelaide. I jotted down song lyrics and anything that reminded me of her.

Tonight was the night. Jitters twisted in my stomach. It had taken me a long time to find someone willing to remove a tree after hours. It would be worth it to save the carving of our initials.

The two months wait Logan had enforced was slowly killing me. My need for Adelaide was a pit of emptiness in my chest, a paralyzing agony. I spent most of my time wishing I could go back and change things, make different choices. I wanted to give her this journal when it was done, to show her I’d been thinking of her this whole time, respecting her space but never giving up on us.

I would never give up. I clenched my jaw, ignoring the dark stone in my stomach. It weighed down my steps, heavy and forlorn.

“Bry?” Nicole materialized next to me like my filtered memories had conjured her. I didn’t react at first, not computing that my once friend could be here. My shock at seeing her wiped away the tremor of hearing her say my shortened name. She fidgeted with the cuff of her white button-up, her eyes wide with surprise. Oblivious to my mute silence. I hadn’t seen Nicole since the fateful night when everything had fallen into ruin. When she’d lied about me not wanting to be with Adelaide anymore. Her betrayal stung so sharply, especially with thepieces of my life falling in shards around me. I had blocked her immediately, unable to reconcile the mixture of guilt and anger.

“Nicole,” my voice sounded raspy. She chewed on her lip, looking over her shoulder at a softly lit cafe. Her bag was resting on one table, sheltered from the rainfall.

“It’s been so long.” Nicole tucked her dark hair behind her ear. “How are you?”

I took a deep breath. I knew I looked like shit. A listless appetite encouraged weight to slough off my neglected body. A patchy beard that I should have shaved but didn’t have the energy or inclination to do so. My ability to care had spluttered out the moment Adelaide kicked us out of her office. I was a piece of shit. I may as well feel like it, too.

“I’m not doing this, Nicole,” I muttered, but Nicole slid in front of me. Halting my effort to leave.

“No, please,” she begged. “Give me a moment to apologize. I never wanted to hurt you, Briar. Everything got out of control.” I wavered, and she gestured to the table. “Please. Let me buy you a drink and explain.”

Her earnest expression gave me pause. My emotions were already swirling from my anxious mood. There was a part of me that wanted closure from Nicole as well. Writing my letters had brought her to my thoughts often, how I had used her to hide my shame. But she’d lied inexplicably and played such a gigantic part in driving Adelaide away from us. The sun was setting over the buildings and the street lights flickered on. I would have one drink, get my answers, and leave.

“One drink,” I agreed warily, and she smiled gratefully.

“You want wine?”

“No. No alcohol.” I grimaced. She ducked her head, chagrined.

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