Page 128 of The Truth About Love

It’s been months since he left and it hasn’t gotten any easier. Whoever saidtime heals everythinghad obviously never had their heart broken by Auden Wells.

I’ve tried to move on, I really have. I’ve even been on dates. Not with Max, obviously. Things are messy enough between us after he kissed me in front of Auden. But I haven’t been able to get through one nice dinner or couple of hours at the movie theatre without thinking I’d rather be there with somebody else.

It’s worse, perhaps, because I know that the reason we aren’t together isn’t because he doesn’t want us to be. My heart can still feel the beat of his, my soul can still hear his calling out for me. We belong to each other, hopelessly and infinitely, but duty binds him to another woman.

I wonder if their baby has been born yet.

And if it has, then I pray to the stars that that it’s healthy. That it’s okay. That it willalwaysbe okay. Because even though I hate the circumstances, I’d do anything to protect Auden from losing another child.

I lay back on my bed and stare at the ceiling.

Silence is my best friend on days like this. Days where missing Auden is particularly painful, when I can think of nothing but what could have happened that night if Cara hadn’t been pregnant.

I drive myself crazy imagining what life would look like if things were different.

I scream and cry. I lay for hours in my eternal darkness. I hold ice in my palm to distract from the thoughts in my head.

That’s something positive, I guess. Despite all that’s happened, I haven’t once diverted back to unhealthy coping mechanisms. I haven’t taken a blade to my skin for years now and I celebrate every damn day that passes of staying clean.

Because even though I’m stronger now and have learnt healthier ways of coping, the urge to self-harm is still there. It still tempts me sometimes.

Ice satisfies that craving for me.

It helps me swallow down the desire for something sharper, for a harsher kind of physical pain. It’s a life saver, especially on days like today.

A knock at the door startles me.

I ignore it at first, but when it sounds again, I huff and drag myself across the apartment. It’s probably Marlowe coming up to ask me why I’m not downstairs at the foundation.

But when I swing the door open, I freeze in shock.

Because it’s not Marlowe.

It’s the one person I never thought I’d see standing on my doorstep again. Not after I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore. Not after he left the lavender.

“Auden,” I breathe, but the word is barely out of my mouth before his hands are on my face and his lips are on mine.

He kisses me ferociously. Like a wild animal unleashed from a cage. His hands are everywhere, on my back, in my hair, cupping my cheeks, grabbing my ass. Mine are fisting the fabric of his shirt.

For a while, I’m too stunned to kiss him back. I’m not even sure if this is happening at all, or if it’s just a really vivid lucid dream.

But finally, I melt into him.

My lips part and his tongue slips between them, finding mine and entwining with it.

He tastes the same. Like home. Sweet and familiar, my favourite flavour.

But when he moans into my mouth, the sound shocks me out of my daze and I shove out of his hold.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I yell, breathing hard.

His eyes are wide as he drinks in my appearance. My hair, a ragged mess, is thrown back into a messy ponytail and my skeletal frame is drowned by his old high-school football jersey that still falls to my mid-thigh.

His gaze lingers on the parts of my legs that are visible between the hem of the sweater and the tops of my knee-high socks.

“Eyes up buddy,” I snap, despite my lips still tingling from the thrill of his kiss.

Auden smirks. It makes him look like that teenage boy I fell in love with so many years ago. His eyes are the same sparkling blue they were back then as well. The way they were before he lost his son, before his mama killed herself, before I broke his heart in a hospital waiting room when he was eighteen.

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