You’d think, after almost two decades of agony, I would’ve outgrown it by now…turns out, I’m stupid because I can’t stop it.
Anyway, let’s get on with the story…
The first time I caught him kissing her, I thought my chest would explode, and I’d plop dead right there where I hid in the barn shadows.
He didn’t see me.
But, holy ouch, did I see him.
I saw his lips touch hers, his body tighten and breath catch, and I wanted to pelt toward them, scratch out her eyes, then kick him in the shins. I wanted them both to understand how much they’d wronged me.
But that was the thing…they didn’t do anything wrong.
Ren was more man than boy, and I, as much as I despised it, was still a child.
I was trapped and hurting and ran back to our one bedroom with my heart gasping and insides smarting, curling around my agony with no clue how to stop it.
He got mad at me that night.
When he came to bed after kissing her, I couldn’t bear to look at him. I couldn’t let him see the depth of emptiness and loneliness he’d caused.
Instead, I ignored him.
He stormed off when I refused to uncurl and look at him. It took everything I had to hold in my aching tears, but once he’d vanished into the stables, I let loose the crushing agony and sobbed into my pillow.
I think back now and know my pain wasn’t from seeing him kiss Cassie. It wasn’t the fact I’d woken from my nap, bounced from our bedroom, and couldn’t wait to help him with his chores again. It wasn’t because, even though we lived across the driveway from the Wilsons, we were still separate, still us. And it wasn’t because I knew that a kiss meant more was to come and as bodies grew closer so too do minds and hearts.
I was too young, you see.
I didn’t know what kissing meant.
But the pain he injected into my heart? That was real and I felt betrayed, forgotten, and so terribly lost.
I was jealous that he was close to another when I was supposed to be the only one. I was angry that he turned to another for comfort and didn’t come to me. But most of all, I was in shattered pieces because I wasn’t enough anymore.
Crazy, right?
Such complex emotions for such a silly girl. I’ve read enough on the subject of unrequited love—especially when there are factors like age and experience separating two parties like they do with me and Ren—to understand my first broken heart wasn’t about lust or sex or even understanding that a kiss like that eventually led to more.
All I knew was the one person who meant the world to me—the boy who kissed my cheeks and cuddled me close and kept all the monsters at bay—had betrayed me by liking another.
At least, I’m not unusual in my pain. Apparently, lots of children have issues with their parental figures when they start dating again after a failed marriage or other life situation. But that knowledge didn’t help my fractured little heart, and it didn’t help glue me back together again.
Funny enough…Cassie did that.
Remember how I said I both hated and loved her?
Well, I hated her for stealing Ren, but I loved her because she didn’t just want his company.
She wanted mine, too.
I wish I could fill this assignment with slurs like she was a slut, a bitch, and a conniving little witch.
But…and this pains me to say…she wasn’t.
She was reserved and protective of her family—just like Ren.
She was generous and attentive of her loved ones—just like Ren.
She was patient and kind, and little by little, she wore down my hate until I no longer hissed at her when she came into the barn to find Ren but ran out to meet her just as eager as him.
I can probably skip ahead a little because Cherry River Farm wasn’t just a snippet of my life. It wasn’t our home for just one winter like Ren had promised. It turned out to be my childhood playground until most of my earlier memories of tents and trees were overshadowed by barns, horses, and school.
Ah, school.
I almost forgot.
See, this is how Ren systematically broke and repaired my heart, time after time again. He broke it by kissing Cassie Wilson. He fixed it by sitting me down a few days later, while I still moped and sulked, and instead of scolding me for the fiftieth time about my unusual surly attitude, he held my hands, swept hair off my face, and told me I would be going to school.
Amazing how when you’re a kid, you can switch from pain to elation so fast.
I didn’t see it as bribery or search for an ulterior motive—not that there was one. I just threw my arms around his neck and squeezed as hard as I could. He still loved me. He still cared.