Page 107 of Hunt for the Roses
I just haven’t been given one yet.
* * *
As I turn on my block and pull up to the front of my townhouse, my stomach drops at the sight of Aria reading on her porch. I wasn’t expecting her to be outside because I wasn’t expecting to have to face her so soon. Or maybe because I just don’t want to face her.
But as soon as I see her, memories of our summer together come back to me, and I just take her beauty in. Her long dark hair softly blows in the light breeze, as she’s wearing a light pink tank top tucked into high-rise denim shorts around her petite figure. She’s curled her legs beside her on the bench so she’s comfortable reading, and she hasn’t picked her head up yet to notice I’m home. Or maybe she just doesn’t care enough to.
That’s an excruciating thought.
I swallow a nervous lump as I open my car door to get out, but my eyes are on her the whole time. It’s at this point Aria acknowledges me, and she just stares back at me for a couple seconds. Before I even have a chance to say anything or walk to her, she closes her book and gets up from the bench to go into her house. The front door shuts behind her, and I’m left just staring at the empty bench she was sitting on two seconds ago.
I stand at my car door as my heart falls to the floor, breaking to bits, and the hurt I feel is immense. Not hurt because she’s ignoring me but hurt because I know I’ve caused her so much pain in such little time. Then I start to think about the things she said to me out in the parking lot, and I think of how I never got a chance to respond to her.
No matter how much she may hate me right now, I have to let her know something.
I close my car door to start walking up to her front porch, and once I reach her door, I knock.
I’m waiting twenty seconds before knocking again, and another twenty seconds pass by.
“Ari, please open the door,” I say loud enough that I know she can hear me.
Nothing.
I knock and speak again. “Ari, please.”
Nothing.
I’m bracing my palms on either side of the door frame as I lean forward to say what I need to say, and I speak loud enough so she can hear. “You were wrong yesterday.”
I pause, waiting for her to hopefully open the door or talk through the door. Even if it was just to tell me to go away, at least she would be talking to me.
When I realize neither of those things are going to happen, I continue on. “I do love you,” I say. “I love you with every ounce of my being. Nothing will ever change that.”
I purse my lips, waiting to see if by some slight chance she will open the door.
But when I accept that my waiting is futile, I eventually nod my head in defeat before peeling my hands off the door frame to walk back home.
“I love you with every ounce of my being. Nothing will ever change that.”
I’m sitting on the floor against the foyer wall as I hear Dane speak through my door. Tears slide out of my eyes, and I just let them fall as I listen to his voice, letting the droplets coat my skin in inevitable misery. I’m hurt, angry, skeptical, embarrassed, and I refuse to face Dane right now. It’s agonizing knowing that even though we care so much for each other, circumstances are keeping us apart.
My family.
Dane’s insecurities.
My past.
That’s the common denominator of it all.
Isn’t it incredible how one event can change the entire course of your life indefinitely? How one event can destroy your original destiny and affect your future destinies in its wake?
My past is my prison, and it’s given me a life sentence.
As I sit on my floor after Dane leaves my porch, I wonder if I’ll ever find the key to unlock me from the chains of my past.
* * *
A couple days after the porch fiasco, I go on a jog with Kate on the boardwalk. We jog for two miles before stopping to catch our breath as we’re bent over with our palms on our knees.
