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three months in my head. Filing through every memory, every happy and hurtful moment Henley and I shared. I was aching to work out how we loved each other so deeply but couldn’t get our shit together. How do two people who belong together forever push one another apart? It took me nearly eight weeks to accept that understanding Henley’s emotions was a moot point. Henley didn’t even fucking understand them.

We are what we’re taught. What we see in the world.

Henley spent seventeen years trapped in a home that survived only on resentment and revenge. She was told this was love.

She spent the next year held hostage by a mother who kept her from the people most important to Henley. Again, she was told this was love.

She escaped, only to travel the world alone, telling herself that was called freedom.

We fell in love, and through that journey, we caused harm. To others. To one another. Time and time again, the truth of my love for Henley was spiked with pain, with betrayal, and regret.

I told her I loved her and expected her to believe me.

Just like Derrick and Jacinta.

I showed her I loved her by cheating on my high school girlfriend. Clouding my declaration in guilt that wasn’t hers to feel.

I showed her I loved her by demanding she break up with someone who was showing her happiness away from the stone walls of hate at home. I tempted her, played on her past feelings, and then scorned her when she did the right fucking thing.

I showed her I loved her by jumping on a flight that I told myself was romantic when, in fact, it was exactly what Henley accused me of it being. An international booty call. I wanted to fuck her. I couldn’t give her more than twenty-four hours. I lured her in only to cut her down.

I showed her I loved her by dragging a date to a wedding out of fear and then fucking her when I knew she had a boyfriend. I left her with nothing but a handwritten note after destroying her relationship.

I showed her I fucking loved her by failing the first moment we promised to give it another go.

I know she had her faults through our entanglement, maybe just as many as I can admit to, but she needed someone to be a solid fixture for her. She needed family, and I hid behind some ridiculous notion that she hadn’t asked me to put everything aside for her. In truth, I wanted her to be the one who sacrificed. I wanted her to build her life around me. I expected that to be enough for her.

I called home the second the epiphany hit me, only for mom to tell me of Derrick’s passing. It’s as though the universe pulled my head out of my ass at the time Henley would need someone by her side.

My feet slow as the river comes into view, and I pause, bending to untie my shoelaces before taking another step. Bare feet to the earth, I let my toes sink into the mud and grass, remembering Henley from all those years ago.

“What’s the point of being out in nature if you can’t feel it between your toes?”

I breathe a sigh of relief when she comes into view. Chin to her knees, arms hugging her legs, her eyes are closed.

She doesn’t flinch as I approach, no doubt having sensed me the second I stepped into the clearing.

“Nice rock.”

Her lips tip upward. “I hold part ownership in it.”

“Funny.” I slide up next to her. “Me too.”

She opens her eyes then. Her beautifully wistful eyes scream for me to see the torment she’s in.

I pull her into my body without delay, tucking her face into my neck to let my skin swallow the sob that breaks free from her lips without her permission.

“I got you,” I soothe.

She settles almost instantaneously, her breath a quick stutter and a soft exhale. The sound repeats. Quiet shattered gasps that vibrate against my chest.

“You’re not wearing shoes,” she says.

I shift back, but she holds on tighter. “Give me a minute,” she whispers against my neck. “I thought I’d lost this forever. Just give me sixty seconds to believe it's real.”

My throat heats at her words. “I. . .” I clear my throat. “Someone once told me there wasn’t much point being in the forest if I couldn’t feel the earth between my toes.”

“She sounds like a messy creature.”

“The messiest,” I confirm.

“Why do you bother with her then?”

I bend, touching my lips to her ear. “Because I love her more than anything in the whole fucking world.”

Sitting up, she stares at me intently.

“What is that in your eyes?” I worry. “What can’t I read?”

Her hand lifts up to touch my face, only to drop away again. “Relief,” she confesses.

We let silence encapsulate us for minutes, our gaze set on the stormy flow of the river.

“Talk to me,” I plead gently.

“I’m confused.” Her fingers reach up, massaging at her right earlobe. Annoyed at the hoop threaded through it, she removes it without thought, dropping it into the pocket of her dress. “Confused that I’m upset. Confused. . . that I’m not as sad as I should be?”

I stare at her profile, cataloging her freckles like I’ve done a million times before. I don’t stop my hand from moving, letting it lift to brush her hair back over her ear so I can see her better. “Unresolved issues and feelings?” I question, but she only shrugs.

“Did you go to the service?”

“I came straight here. I came straight to you.”

Turning her face, she meets my gaze, shifting closer. “I couldn’t stomach going,” she tells me unnecessarily. “What if someone asked me how I was coping? What if I lost my cool and screamed at them that he betrayed me?”

I know that, deep down, Henley would never have reacted that way, but I’m glad she didn’t go. I would’ve hated her having to swallow the pain of others' words.

“It wasn’t

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