Page 125 of My Unfinished Heart

He turns back to me and forces a smile as tears streak down his face.

No, no. I don’t want him to cry. Not for this. Not for me. I’m not worth it.

“Come on.” He takes my hand again to lead me out of the house.

I go with him, but when we get to my car, I have to stop again. I lay my arms across the hot metal roof and sink my head between them. I’ve always known I’m broken, but now I’m ground to dust.

All I can think about is this isn’t what Tristan signed up for. I need to find my fucking spine. He needs me strong. He doesn’t need—this.

Tristan stays close, his hand moving back and forth across my waist, waiting for me to pull myself together. And I have to. I fucking have to for him. It takes a while because all I keep thinking about is Connor. The brother I left behind. I’ve had Helen propping me up my entire life and all Connor’s had is…

I glance at Tristan, and I feel like a thief.

Did I mention that there was one more space at Helen’s table? Across from Kate and next to me? This empty space and the person who wasn’t there to fill it?

And no one can tell me it didn’t occur to Tristan, too. Of course it did. But I’m the miserable asshole keeping them apart. With things I’ve done. Things I’ve said. All of which are easier to think about than Helen’s confession.

What happens next is almost too unbelievable to recount. But I swear it happened. Like, no bullshit.

Kate comes running outside as I’m opening Tristan’s car door. She has a jar of fireflies. Eight of them.

“There’s one for all of us!” she says to me, in a tizzy of excitement. “And an extra one! I caught it just for you!”

TWENTY-ONE

The Darkness of Hearts

In bed, where Tristan and I go as soon as we get home, he climbs into my arms and lays a hand across my cheek. I start trying to undress him, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

“Stop,” he says, his fingertips firm against my face. “Wait.”

“I don’t want to wait.” The words in my head are flirtatious, but in the air between us—the way they come out—they sound too insistent. I try to kiss him, but he retreats.

“Fine.” I push his hand away and sit up.

“Archer, listen to me.”

“I’m sick of listening tonight. I don’t want to hear anymore. What? What do you have to say right now? What’s so fucking important?” I’m not shouting at him, but almost.

His eyes widen just before they grow cold. “Nothing. Forget it. Just fuck me if that’s what you want.”

Helen is right. I will lose him. I’ll lose him because I’m too fucking broken to let myself have him.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

He nods, but his mouth is tight. He starts to get up, but I reach out and clamp a hand on his hip, not letting him move. “You said you’d stay the night.”

“I’m not sure I want to anymore.”

“I’m listening. Please. I don’t want you to go. You promised.” My voice breaks, which isn’t surprising. Everything about me is breaking.

Our eyes meet like a clash of swords. “What did she say to you?”

I shake my head. “Not tonight, okay?”

His expression softens. His voice comes out gentler. “You know you can tell me, right? You can tell me anything. It would mean so much to me if you knew you could do that. I—” He hesitates. “I care about you so much.”

“It isn’t you, Tristan. This is me. There are just things I don’t talk about. I don’t need to. I don’t want to. It has nothing to do with you.”