Page 158 of My Unfinished Heart

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s about Tristan.”

My shoulders drop as I slump farther down on the porch swing. “I think you should talk to Tristan about Tristan.”

“You don’t want to hear this?”

“Let me tell you what I want. I want you both to be happy. He’s not happy.”

“That’s because you broke his heart,” Connor says.

“I know.”

“You broke it, and you stomped on it, and you walked right on past it⁠—”

“Jesus Christ, Connor, I get it, okay? He’ll be all right. He’s got you and his family, and there are so many guys out there…” I’m making myself sick. I shut up.

I can feel my brother’s rueful smirk burning a hole in my face. “My turn yet? Or do you wanna keep talking about all the other guys waiting for a chance at Tristan?”

“Go ahead.”

“I’ll be okay if you want to get back together.”

I shake my head.

“I really will. Think of it like my thank you for saving my life.”

“I didn’t save your life. He did.”

“Right. Well, he came through for me, and I want to come through for him. You’re good for him. You love him like he deserves to be loved.”

“How’s that exactly? By trampling on his heart? And anyway, how do you know? He said he never told you about it.”

“He has now.”

“Great.”

“I can tell how much you love him by the way you keep letting him go.”

That shuts me up for a minute, then I say, “I think he might disagree with you on that.”

Connor laughs. “Oh, he would. But listen—you said you don’t get love, right?”

“I feel like I’m making progress.”

“Well, why don’t you stop thinking of it like it’s a concept and start thinking of it like it’s a thing. I think of it like a string.”

“A string?”

“If you understand me so well, then maybe this’ll help you, too. I think of love like a string that connects your heart to someone else’s. A strong, indestructible string. You can’t cut it, you can’t disconnect it. Once it’s there, it’s there. Always. And sometimes you don’t even notice it until it starts to pull at you. But it can stretch. Over distance, over time. Like it did with you and me. You know that tug you feel in your chest?” He presses his fingertip into my pounding heart. “The ache you feel when you miss someone? It’s the stretch of the string. That’s how you and Tristan are connected. By a heart string.”

I’ve felt that tug so many times before, but I refuse to admit it. “That’s it? That’s all love is? Heart strings?”

He nods.

I laugh.

“Why is that funny?”

“Because it’s too simple⁠—”