Page 107 of All Your Firsts

“He lied about everything, Jess. Everything,” I say wiping away a stray tear.

“He told me.”

“He did?”

“Yep. I’m not sticking up for Vic whatsoever, but when I spoke to him, he sounded devastated. I’ve never seen him act like he does with you.”

“It still doesn’t excuse him.”

“Agreed. But if you care about him like I think you do, just give yourself some time to think about everything. I’d hate for you to have regrets later. Memories are precious and so is the time you spend with people.”

“You’re right.”

“And now that I’ve said all that, I will totally be your girl and slash the tires on his truck with you. But I refuse to go near his bike because I’m not suicidal,” she says with a grin, which makes me smile.

“Thank you for being such an amazing friend. Meeting you was one of the best things I did since moving to town.” I pull her into a hug.

“I could say the same about you. Someone pulled in behind me.”

I look out the window and pray it isn’t Vic. I can’t handle seeing him right now, but all I see is a suit.

“Ugh, my brother Gage,” I say with a sigh. “I better go.”

I pull Jess in for another hug, feeling like this might be the last time I see her.

I could fight Gage on this, but what’s left for me here?

Nothing.

Because it was all a lie.

“Call or text if you need anything. Like I said, I’m here for you... always.”

“Thanks, Jess.”

I get out of Jess’s car and walk toward Gage.

“How’d you find me this time, big brother?” I ask as I try to distract him from my tear-streaked face, bare feet, and shirt combo I have going on. I must look like a mess.

“Vic told me.”

Lovely.

He closes my door, and I stare out the window into the pouring rain. The weather is a mirror image of my emotions right now. Dark, gloomy, and cold.

You always hear about the highs that come with meeting someone and falling for them. The stolen glances that set your body on fire. The giddy feeling you get when they send you a text and the anticipation of their words, the butterflies you get when their hands are on you. Searing your flesh with scars even after their touch is gone.

But no one likes to speak of the lows once all of that is ripped from your grasp.

The soul-shattering emptiness where those feelings used to lie.

A part of me longs for the blissful ignorance of never noticing that something was off.

I regret ever opening that drawer and uncovering the painful truth.

I didn’t lose one person.

I lost two.

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