Page 93 of Counting On You

Part Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Vicky

Love is an illusion.

It’s a chemical reaction that makes you blind to what the heart perceives as real. As soon as the glasses are off, it shatters you and all the parts you gave of yourself freely.

There’s no more us. No more tears. No more fights. No more breaks. No more second chances. Seconds of saying hello; months wasted on someone who wasn’t worth the time. Someone who takes a heart too easily and breaks it in an instant.

What the hell did I think would happen?

How foolish of me to ever think we had a chance.

It’s even more foolish that I ever thought he was great.

The mind replays what it cannot understand.

I expect the pain to hit me hard, but I find I’m only filled with emptiness—as if my heart’s a shell, the edges roughened, the inner padding turned to stone. I feel like someone who exists but doesn’t breathe. Everything in my mind is still, the inner clockwork laid to rest as if I’ve given up altogether.

I stash the letter in a drawer and grab my jacket in the hopes that a short walk might help me feel something.

Anything.

Because any feeling is better than the emptiness residing inside me.

I think of my sister, feeling bad for kicking her out, but really, it was for the best. For the life of me, I can’t face her, can’t listen to her apologies. Can’t hear one more word about Bruce because he’s dead to me.

There’s only one path left for me to go—move ahead with my plans, get this rehab thing over and done with. The sooner I return to my old self, erase all traces of him, the better.

Black clouds hover in the sky. A soft breeze grazes my arm, sending shivers through my body. It’s going to rain soon. I close my eyes, savoring the sensation, breathing in the raw scent of the earth, the trees, the ocean that’s close and yet too far away.

The numbness is still here, wrapped around me like a soothing cocoon.

Pretending that everything’s okay has never been so easy.

I don’t know how long I’m standing frozen to the spot, but at some point, the sky splits. Little droplets of water begin to fall, which form into rivulets, turning into a downpour soaking my clothes, my soul, washing away the memories of the special times that weren’t special to begin with.

In the midst of it all, I think of Kade.

Kade is everything Bruce isn’t.

Why can’t I be with someone like him? He makes me laugh like no one can. He makes me feel good. Around him I can be my true self.

Kade’s not only better looking, he’s also kind and generous—at least in the between-the-sheets department. But he’s a sex addict, and my friend, and that’s all he’s ever going to be.

Harboring any hope that I might ever be with him would be another big mistake. Once this is over, he’ll forget me. We both might spiral back into the vicious circle that is addiction. That’s what people say will happen. I’m going to fall in love with the next wrong guy only to have my heart broken again, and he’s going to keep fucking his way through the female population.

That’s how life is: full of mistakes, regret, and self-blame.

I let out a scream, pouring out all the anger, pouring out all I have. As my emotions rip through me, tears begin to fall.

I’m not crying because of Bruce. I’m crying because of all the mistakes I’ve made, because of what I am, what I can never be.

For months I thought I knew Bruce. Turned out I didn’t know him at all.

My feelings for him were nothing but an illusion concocted by my heart. Now I’m paying the price, because I was too blind to see we were never going to have a future together.

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