And before you think it… No, I’m not just saying that. I really mean it.
Derrick’s lucky I’m far away right now and can’t kick his needle-dick ass to the next county.
But for real, I’m sorry you got your heart broken. I know it can be hard, especially the first time, and you’re probably thinking there’s something wrong with you or that you aren’t good enough, but it’s not true. I might not have relationship experience, but I practically raised Everleigh until the day I left for boot camp and know how you teen girls think.
The pain will eventually go away, and soon, you’ll wonder what you ever saw in him. Time heals all wounds, Gemma. Don’t give this boy your tears. He doesn’t deserve them.
* * *
I’ve re-read that letter so much after he left that even after all this time, I still have it memorized.
There’s so much irony in the words he wrote to cheer me up. The lie that time would heal all wounds when I spent years shedding so many tears for him.
Tyler and I weren’t “friends” growing up. His and Everleigh’s childhood was a fucked-up, sad situation. Given what they went through, they avoided being like their drunk mother and deadbeat dad at all costs. Well, except Tyler getting mixed up in some shit with some terrible people. I really don’t know the whole story, but from what Everleigh said, he was framed and then sent to prison because of it.
After he enlisted, Everleigh moved in with her grandparents, but Katie and I continued to have sleepovers with the three of us, and we all grew even closer. Since talking about Tyler upset her, she found ways to deal with missing him by writing to him. That gave me the idea to do the same. I figured he could use the company and distraction from whatever he was going through, but I honestly never expected him to write back. Receiving his letters was the highlight of my teenage life. We wrote to each other several times a month for four years, and every letter was like having a piece of him no one else had.
The worst part was that I waited for him after he left me. I waited years.
I went on several first dates, but nothing ever came of them because my heart was still hung up on him. I was naïve to think he would come back for me. It wasn’t until two years ago when I met Robert that I actually felt like I could give myself to another man.
Robert’s a wealthy businessman who owns his own development and realtor company. He’s fifteen years older with life experience. He wants children and is eager for us to start our lives together. The man isn’t afraid to show me how he feels and has never played games like most guys my age do. Robert has always been open and straightforward about his feelings for me. When he compliments me, I know without a doubt he means it.
After six months of dating, he proposed, and it felt like the pieces of my heart had finally glued back together. I wanted to be happy. I deserved it, and Robert wanted to give me the world.
I accepted, and soon, I’ll be Mrs. Robert Hawkley. I honestly can’t wait to see him later.
The following day starts out the same. After visiting Robert last night, I came home and passed out.
Mrs. Wright arrives with the morning pastries and just as she’s walking out, I hear her thank the man who’s holding the door open. I look up and see him.
No. It can’t be.
Blinking, I shake my head to clear my vision. He walks toward me with an intense expression on his face, and I know I’m not seeing things. It’s really him.
My mouth falls open, and I forget how to breathe. I stay standing as I wait for an alien invasion to come and abduct me. I want nothing more than to be taken out of this uncomfortable situation.
“Hi, Gemma.” His deep voice sends electricity down my body. It’s even manlier than I remember.
“Tyler. Hi.” I clear my throat after the shaky words give away my nervousness. “What are you doing here? I mean, not in Lawton Ridge, since I knew you were coming home.”
My gaze lowers down his body, and I take him in. Time has been good to him. Really good. My eyes stop on his mouth as he licks his lower lip before plucking it with his teeth.
“I’m here to speak to your dad. Is he around?” He shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.
Swallowing hard, I furrow my brows. While his brown eyes are still kind, something brews behind them like a distant storm at sea. The boy I remember is now a man, and he’s rigid like a sharp piece of glass. “My dad? Why?”