That was it. Only those two messages. What the hell? Did he not see how much I longed for him? How much I wanted him? How I couldn’t, for the life of me, form a coherent sentence when he was around? I darted up from my seat, eager to do something, anything, to distract myself. I got into my running gear, tucked my phone into my yoga pants and bolted out the door.

Running with my earbuds plugged in, “Sympathy for The Devil” by the Rolling Stones playing in my ears, I tried to burn all the extra energy I generated from reading his texts. My mind was too occupied to tell my legs where to take me. I ran without direction, without purpose. I ran because running was better than staying put and dealing with all those feelings.

With him.

Why was I so disappointed that he didn’t text me after our encounter? I still hadn’t forgiven him. Not for what he did to my mom and certainly, and more importantly, not for hiding all those secrets from me after we had already established a genuine relationship.

Forgiveness.

I never forgave anyone. Not necessarily because I held grudges, but because no one who had let me down ever asked for it.

Was I willing to forgive Troy? I stopped at the corner of the street, leaning against an industrial building and catching my breath. Yanking my phone out, I texted quickly, firing the message before I got the chance to let self-doubt, my ego and logic step into this mess.

Me: You could have told me about why you married me. About what you did to my mother. You never even tried to confess and apologize.

I tucked the phone back into my waistband and continued running. There was no point waiting for his response. I didn’t even know if he’d answer. I got further away from my apartment, the streets blurring into nothing more than a faded background. My thoughts were louder than my vision. My phone vibrated against my damp skin and I looked down, swiping the screen with my finger to read his text.

Troy: I didn’t want you to know it was my family who was responsible for the falling apart of yours. By the time we became something, I didn’t want the baggage to outweigh what we had. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you, Red. The first thing I needed was to keep you. And you know what I saw today behind those greens? Want. You still want me.

I grimaced, shooting him back a text: We can’t be together.

I picked up my pace, but was no longer able to hear the music in my ears. Where was I running to? I had no clue. Maybe if I ran faster, quicker, harder, my pulse will drown all the noise in my head. This was crazy. We broke up six months ago. So what if I never pursued divorce? All I needed was a bit more time to get my head straight. I experienced a life-or-death situation when I was with Brock in the woods. Then I watched my husband kill him. Then I was shot by my husband.

Sure, he was a good shot, but that didn’t make it okay. I just needed more time to get over it.

Troy: We can. And we should. Do you think your mom really gave a rat’s ass about where she’d be buried? She just loved being my father’s, and wanted you to have the same thing. They knew. It’s their legacy.

Me: This is crazy. My mother was a heartless woman who left me, and your dad was a cheating husband who forced us to get married.

Running fast and reckless meant that my injured foot was beginning to make me limp again. I was way past feeling the pain, though. My body tried to keep up with my mind.

Troy: Your mother was in love, and so was my dad. So are you.

I stopped, realizing where I was. In front of his building. In front of the black revolving door. I stared at it, wide-eyed, knowing somehow that Troy would walk out of them within the next few seconds.

And he did.

It was crazy, but he did. I didn’t even have time to catch my breath when I saw him walking out, his phone in his hand. Why did I run here? How did he know I’d be here?

He raised his head from his cell phone, the corners of his lips pulling up to a smile, and lowered his head back to his cell phone as he typed.

Troy: And so am I.

I stilled, watching him move closer. He wore a black pea coat, tailored jeans and matching Derby shoes. His coal black hair, impossibly thick and ridiculously touchable, slicked back casually. He always managed to make my heart float. Whether it was out of fear, out of fury or out of love. My heart always beat faster for him. My knees buckled, just for him. He was right. He did atrocious things, but it was him I wanted. Always, only him.

Troy stopped when we were nose to nose. Toe to toe. I loved watching those eyes from up-close. They were so ocean blue, no wonder they made my head swim.

“I love you, Red. I love you determined, tough, innocent, resilient…” His brows furrowed as he drank me in, stroking the curve of my face with his calloused fingertips. “I love you broken, insecure, scared, furious and pissed off…” He let a small smile loose.

I actually felt it, even though it was on his lips.

“I love every part of you, the good and the bad, the hopeless and the assertive. We don’t just love. We heal each other with every touch and complete each other with ever kiss. And f*ck, I know it’s corny as hell, but that’s what I need. You’re what I need.”

My eyes fluttered shut, a lone tear hanging from the tip of my eyelash.

“We don’t have ordinary words between us. You always set my f*cking brain on fire when you talk to me. We don’t even have ordinary moments of silence. I always feel like I’m playing with you or being played by you when you’re around. And I refuse to let you walk out on this, on us.”