It’s been five days.
Five long, lonely, miserable days.
I’d spent day one in bed, crying.
Day two was consumed with running errands, trying to get back to a sense of normalcy after being gone for more than two weeks.
On day three, I went back to work. It felt good to occupy myself with my work, to take care of patients again. It reminded me that there were worse things in life than having a broken heart, even though it didn’t feel that way.
I was exhausted after work, so most of day four was spent sleeping, and then getting up and doing it all over again.
As day five begins to wind down, I manage to convince myself to go for a run. Even though running reminds me of Bronn, I still get up and put on my shoes. But I compromise with myself, promising that I won’t run to The Sands again. The thought of being there now, without him, makes the ache in my chest intensify.
I debate running downtown, but there are too many places that remind me of us there as well.
Maybe coming back wasn’t a good idea after all.
Wiping a tear from my face, I decide on one of the other beaches in the area. I’ll still be able to smell the salt air, hear the waves crashing. It’s not my beloved Sands, but it’s still the ocean, it’s still the one place that speaks to my soul. And right now my soul needs a good pep talk.
Once I arrive at the state park, I find one of the trails that runs parallel to the beach and take off. It isn’t long before my mind is wandering, its destination the man that had left me a devastated shell of the person I used to be.
The longer I think about it though, the less heartbroken I feel. The overwhelming sadness begins to fade, a burning anger taking its place.
How dare he not believe me!
I would have never questioned him. I would have found a way to accept the truth, no matter how much it hurt. His father was not the man that he thought, and while I felt terrible that he was learning that now, after having spent his entire life thinking otherwise, it didn’t give him an excuse to flat out refuse to believe me. And what about me? I’d spent my entire life thinking my father was dead, when he wasn’t. When he was rotting away in prison because of Bronn’s dad. But I didn’t blame Bronn! I didn’t push him away, didn’t tell him to leave.
Every time my foot hits the ground, the anger in my belly spreads. I’d wasted the last five days consumed with sadness when I should have been pissed off.
All those times we’d shared, the secrets I’d confided in him, the declarations of love and reassurances that we were in it together were lies. I’d told him things that I hadn’t ever shared with anyone. I’d seen through his reputation, overlooked his past, and convinced myself that he wasn’t who he pretended to be. He was wounded, tortured, because of his childhood, his terrible mother and dead father. I’d told myself that it was because of those circumstances that he could be an asshole sometimes, that he would push me away. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he was just a jerk. That’s what it feels like now, now that he knows the facts but refuses to believe them.
The further I run, the more my mind spirals out of control, my despair being replaced by disgust.
This break-up is for the best. I’m almost convinced of it. It may not seem like it now, but with every mile I run I convince myself that I’ll figure it out.
And furthermore, this town doesn’t belong to him. I’m just as entitled to it as anyone else. I’d been avoiding the places that remind me of him, and why? Because I’m afraid that it would make me miss him more? Well, screw him! He doesn’t deserve my heartache. He isn’t worthy of my anguish.
As I continue to press on, pushing myself harder than I have in years, my legs begin to burn and my lungs scream for oxygen. The harder I run, the better I begin to feel. I’m not going to sit around and dwell on it anymore.
People break up every day.
First loves ended all the time.
No one died from a broken heart.
No, they got up and kept fucking going.
And that was exactly what I was going to do. I was going to keep moving and go on with my life.
The trail I’m on loops back on itself before dumping me out on one of the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever seen.
There are palm trees everywhere, the woods pushing right up to the sand. Erosion has changed the landscape over the years, and as I slow down to a walk, I take it all in.
It’s evident that hurricanes have blown through here many times. There are fallen trees littering the shoreline, the wind and water having stripped them of their bark, the trunks smooth and white. I walk among them, admiring their beauty, enjoying the peace.
I will be these trees.
The trees still standing, tall and proud in the face of the most extreme weather. That’s what I will be. I can weather this storm; I can remain strong, rooted in place, refusing to fall.
But, if I do fall, if the weight of the storm is too much for me, I will still be beautiful. I will still have value and worth.
I want to stay and relax among the trees, the water lapping the shore, but the sun is beginning to set, the state park set to close, so I make my way back to where my car is parked. My muscles ache, but my mind is clear for the first time in weeks.
I smile, happy to have come to this place, finding peace that I thought would be impossible for me.
I’m almost back to the parking lot, still strolling along the water, my gaze focused on the water, when I hear my name. The smile that I’m sporting vanishes as I recognize the voice.
I hesitate, and then turn toward the person that’s walking toward me, and my heart begins to pound.
What are the odds?
“Bronn,” I murmur, my voice cracking.
Slowing down, I finally come to a stop, Bronn just a few feet in front of me. The hurt that I’d managed to chase away during my run returns ten-fold.
How foolish I was to think that I could just take a quick run and the pain would disappear. I should have known I would run into him at some point, should have prepared myself for how I would feel when that happened. But I didn’t, and now here I was, standing in front of the man responsible for my heartache, trying not to let him see how much his presence affected me.
“Grace,” he says again, his voice low. Despite my best efforts, I can’t stop myself from looking him over, my gaze roaming his body.
He’s wearing his standard attire, the cotton of his shirt stretching across his broad chest. I try not to remember the way it feels to rest my cheek over his heart. My mind betrays me though, and I can’t help but remembering the way it would soothe me and lull me to sleep.
I try to avoid his face, afraid that one look into his eyes will be my undoing, but he says my name again and my gaze flies to his against my will. “What are you doing here?” I snap, attitude the only defense I know.
One corner of his mouth tips up. “I was about to ask you the same thing.” He scans me from top to toe. “But it’s obvious you’re out for a run.”
I clear my throat, crossing my arms over my chest. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t run in my neighborhood, could I?”
His eyebrows bunch. “Why not?”
“You took that from me,” I murmur, cutting my eyes away to look at the waves crashing along the shore. There are storm clouds in the distance and I find it fitting, considering there’s a storm that’s headed for my damn heart the moment I can get away from Bronn.
All that bullshit that I’d spewed to myself on my run has vanished. I’m not going to be able to just move on like our relationship never happened. All it took was thirty seconds in his presence for my heart to begin to crumble all over again.
He shoves his hands into his jeans pockets and rocks back on his heels. “Took it from you?”
The casual way he stands before me, as though he hasn’t just obliterated my heart, pisses me off. Why is it that I have no effect on him? Am I the only one that cared about our relationship?
I sigh, and uncrossing my arms, wave him off. “Never mind.” I look beyond him, my car just a few steps away. “I’ve gotta go.”
I push past him, giving him a wide berth to ensure that I don’t bump him, but he grabs my arm, halting my progress.
“Grace, wait. I’m glad I ran into you, I need to talk to you.” His hand lingers on my bicep, the touch sending a thrill down my spine.
His face is solemn, his eyes studying me intensely. He’s still incredibly handsome, his blue eyes pinning me with a stare, but it seems like he’s aged in the last week. He looks tired, that familiar sadness back in his eyes.
Good.
Maybe it was petty, but I was glad that he was hurting.
I shake him off and step away. I don’t want to talk to him, don’t care what he has to say. “You had your chance to talk to me.” I shrug. “But that time’s past now, and I’ve got somewhere to be.”
It’s not true, the only place I’m headed is home to take a shower. And now that I’ve run into Bronnson, to drown my sorrows in a pint of cookie dough ice cream and reruns of Friends.
“Are you going back to Columbia?” he asks, not taking no for an answer.
I should ignore him, it’s none of his business where I’m headed. But my mouth betrays me. “No, I’m back here now.”
He nods. “Were you staying at your Nana’s house?”
“No. Her house sold.”
“Oh, so where were you staying then?” he persists.
I don’t know why it matters, why he’s even asking me these questions, but I answer him nonetheless. “I was staying with Riley.”
His eyes darken. Movement catches my eye and I drop my gaze to see that his hand is balled into a fist. I lift an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side.
“You were staying with Riley?” His voice is almost a growl, the sudden jealousy surprising me.
“Yeah. So what?” I retort, incredulous that we’re even having this conversation.
“I don’t like you spending the night in another man’s house.”
My mouth falls open, a bubble of laughter escaping. “Are you kidding me?”
I can’t believe he thinks that he has any right in telling me where I can or can’t sleep at night. Furthermore, I don’t care.
“You don’t have a say in that anymore, now do you? Or have you forgotten that you broke up with me?” My heart pounds, the blood rushing in my ears.
Bronn takes a step forward, crowding into my personal space. “I need to talk to you.” He again reaches for me, this time his hand landing on my hip, his fingers flexing.
I press my lips together, an effort to hold my emotions at bay, and shake my head.
“Grace,” his voice low, he drops his forehead to mine, “don’t make me beg.”
I can’t take any more. His touch, the way my name sounds coming from his lips, the nearness of his face to mine. It’s all too much, and all at once the wave of emotion that I’d been fighting so hard to hold off crashes down.
I wrap my fingers around his wrist and yank his hand away from me, stepping back in the process. “I don’t want you to beg!” My voice cracks. “I just want you to leave me alone. You made it clear that there was no way we were going to be together, so please, just let me get over you and move on with my life.”
I don’t give him a chance to say anything more. Turning, I jog away from him and to my car, wasting no time cranking it up and pulling out of the parking lot.
I make the mistake of looking in the rearview mirror. Bronn stands in the place I left him, his head hung low, hands on his head. My heart squeezes at the sight of his despair, but I don’t tap the brakes.
Forcing myself to look away, I focus on the road in front of me and continue driving, vowing that I won’t look back again.