CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 25
—Do you love someone?—

"Forget it, Mom," I say through gritted teeth.

—Laury.— She takes a deep breath. —Maybe... maybe I didn't always show you the right thing. Maybe I need to look back and ask myself a lot of questions. But one thing I won't regret, or question, is that I know I did show you that love is real.— I scoff, but she continues. —I have loved. I may not have been loved the way I wanted or the way I should have, but I have loved. I have opened my heart and felt what it's like to let someone in. I know that love is real, and as much as you've told me over and over again that you don't believe it, you now clearly know that you were wrong. The fact that your heart is broken proves it.—

This just proves I made a mistake. It proves I should have listened to my mind and kept my heart strong behind all the walls I built around it, because look what's happened now. It proves I loved, and now I'm losing that little part of me I swore I'd never lose. I'll never get this piece of my heart back. It's too broken.

"But do you want him back?" she asks softly. "Do you truly regret having loved him, or are you so hurt that anger is the only way you know how to react? If that man came back to you right now and humbled himself and begged you, wouldn't he be able to repair the damage he's caused?"

The problem is that Ezequiel doesn't come. He doesn't apologize or retract his statement. He doesn't even bother to write. So what can be done if the person who broke my heart isn't interested in fixing it?

"It doesn't matter," I say quietly.

—That's all that matters.—

His words, like Jeremiah's, make my throat bulge with so many emotions. I close my eyes for fear of the tears I feel welling up. I've cried enough for them.

Look, honey, I don't know what happened, and I'm pretty sure if I asked you, you wouldn't tell me, but I know if you're hurt enough to open up to me, it must be terrible. So, if I may give you some advice about love...

He pauses, waiting for permission. I suppose I owe him this for the harsh, though necessary, words I said to him today. —Continue.—

Try again. Sometimes I realize that people are their own worst enemies. This man could be stuck in his own thoughts, or even doubting he knows how to love. You can't know unless you ask, unless you face him head-on. Ask him what you want. Tell him what you want. And you walk away knowing you did everything you could. That's all you can do. If he doesn't step up, if he doesn't rise to the occasion, then you let him go because he wasn't worth holding on to. And, Laury, listen to me, don't let this stop you from loving someone else. One heartbreak doesn't mean your heart will always be broken. You create your own happiness. That's all I've ever tried to do: Find my happiness. Maybe I was looking where I shouldn't have, I don't know. Like I said when we hung up, I have a lot to reflect on. But one thing I'm sure of is that I was happy. So, if this man makes you happy, fight for it. Fight for him and see if he... fights for you back.—

His words leave me speechless, for so many reasons. He can't grasp that this is a three-way fight. I could fight for Ezekiel, but would he fight back when he was still so convinced that, as his ex, I couldn't truly want a life with them? And how would Jeremiah end up, standing between us? Would the back-and-forth embitter him, change his feelings? They both make me happy, but would I feel the same if I had to beg Ezekiel to reciprocate?

"Has he come closer?" my mother asks.

"One does," I answer slowly and carefully. "The other doesn't."

—One? What are you doing...? Ohhh.—

I laugh at that. It's a much-needed laugh.

"I see." She laughs too. "Well, listen, I'm all for more love. Even better if two men spoil my daughter." She pauses. "You know I love you, right, honey? No matter which man was around, you know I loved you more than any of them, right?"

I do know that. I never doubted that she loved me, even if sometimes she was too distracted to show it. "I know, Mom."

—But do I need to work on it?—

—Yes—, I admit it.

"It's okay," she says softly.

"Are you okay?" I ask. "About breaking up with Richard?"

I wasn't at the beginning of this call, but I am now. Do you know why? Because when I talk to you, I realize I will love again, but I also know that now I will look for the right person to love, who will love me back.

I smile. “I’d like to see that, Mom. You deserve it. I really do.”

She just hums. “So, second chances?”

—I'll have to think about it.—

—I understand. And I'm going to write to Richard to tell him I've been on bigger boats than his.

I laugh out loud. “Do it.”

"I will." I hear the smile in his voice. "Tell me how it all works out... Please."

\-I will do that.-

—Goodbye, darling.—

—Goodbye, Mom.—

When I hang up the phone, it vibrates again. I see the preview of Jeremiah's text.

Jer: Please, just talk to me. I need…

I exhale deeply and open the message to read the rest.

I need to know you're okay.

Apparently, I haven't cried enough for them, because now the tears are coming back. I owe him so much more than silence. I know that. He wasn't the one who hurt me. He wasn't the one who broke my heart with his words. So, instead of responding to his message, or the many others I see above, I press the phone icon to call him. He answers on the second ring.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

—I am. And I'm sorry I've been ignoring you. It's just... I felt...

—Is it easier not to hear my voice?—

"Yes," I admit. "But it was still wrong."

—You don't have to apologize to me, Laury. I understand. But I miss you.

God, his words squeeze my heart, squeezing it with a deadly force that leaves me hoarse. “I miss you, too.”

—So—

—But that doesn't change anything—, I interrupt. —It won't work. It can't work without us all being in this together, and it's clear that's not going to happen—.

Ezequiel is an idiot. We all know it, but he always ends up seeing how wrong he is.

And I'm supposed to wait for what? For him to get over his distrust of me? A distrust I never did anything to foster? No, I deserve better. I know that. And you deserve someone to love without feeling like they're pushing you away from your brother. Because that's all we'd be doing if you and I were together now: He'd come between you and Ezekiel, and I won't be the cause. Ever. We both know what would happen. You'd resent him for pushing me away, I'd be with one of you when I'm in love with both of you.

—How can you say those words and make them sound like you're saying goodbye to me at the same time?—

The pain in his voice makes me bring my hand to my chest, to the physical pain there.

I just got off the phone with my mom. She was talking about second chances, believing in love, and all that. I don't know if I can give Ezekiel another chance, or if he even wants it, but I do know that I love them both. So, I guess I can at least tell you for real once. I love you, Jeremiah. Keep that in mind.

—I love you too, Laury. So much.—

I don't feel whole without you two. I don't know if I ever will be. But I know I loved you both, because it's when the three of us are together that everything feels right. I feel like it was always meant to be this way. I miss you, but I'm not willing to accept that someone I'm with doesn't trust me or love me back.

"You shouldn't either," he says quietly. "But you said second chances, is that... if Ezequiel starts rubbing his last two brain cells together, would that be an option?"

—I don't know, Jer. I can't help but feel like what he said in the car wasn't what he really meant. I don't see any way back.—

—If I text you, just you and me, will you reply?—

—Isn't that just asking for more pain?—

—Maybe. But it's worth the pain.—

I close my eyes and whisper, “It’s okay.”

She gives me a small laugh, even though it sounds forced. "Don't ignore me again. I know where you live."

—Are you threatening me, Jer?— I laugh.

—More like promising to show up with some food and a piece of cake.

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—Oh, cake? Now you're really bringing out the big guns.

It feels so good to laugh with him, even though I know this probably won't last. Jeremiah and I could never be just friends after what we've shared.

"I love you, Laury," he says again.

—I love you, Jeremiah.—

—I'll make sure this isn't the last time I hear you say that.—

He hangs up, and I stare at the screen, which now displays text messages again. Ezekiel's name is there, waiting for me to call him, to try to have some kind of conversation with him. But I shake my head and put the phone down. I'm not ready yet.

I don't know if I'll ever be.

Three days later, I find myself in front of the gym. No route back to my apartment after visiting the florist one last time would have led me to his gym, but it felt like I was just going around in circles and driving through the streets without even realizing where I was going because my mind was completely focused on how my grief had slowly but surely morphed into anger. On the conflicting signals he'd given me. My mind kept weighing his words in the car against what he was telling me he'd miss me, how they'd traveled to surprise me. Time and again, my mind gave me reasons to want to call him just to lash out at him, to curse him for how I felt he was toying with my feelings.

When I texted Jeremiah earlier, he told me he was home alone, and without me asking, he told me that Ezekiel was closing the gym today because the manager had to leave early because his wife was in labor. The moment I read this, I thought about going to the gym and cornering him so he'd have no choice but to listen to my every angry word. But I didn't realize I'd decided to do it until I pulled up in front of the gym.

I watch as the last remaining people leave the gym. Ezekiel speaks to them as he holds the door open. He smiles at them as if he has the right to smile. Then he closes it, without locking it, before turning around and starting to turn off the lights. It's pure rage that drives me to open the door, slam it shut, and cross the street. A bell rings in the gym as I open it, and the voice I haven't heard in days comes from the back room. A voice that, anger, pain, and all, still shakes me.

"We're closed tonight," he says, his voice growing closer. "We open tomorrow at..."

His words are cut off when he sees me, his eyes widening. And, damn, he looks like a walking wet dream. White T-shirt, black gym shorts, muscles and tattoos on full display. I force myself to tear my gaze away from his body and back up to him, squinting as I do so.

"Nothing to say now?" I ask, not caring about the venom in every word. "You had so much to say in the car."

He clenches his jaw, and a muscle in the back of his neck twitches. I mock his silence.

—Guess I should have gotten the hint when you didn't even bother to text me to find out how much damage you'd caused, huh?—

“Send a text and say what?” he asks sharply.

My eyes widened at the sight of his brazenness. My heels devoured the distance between us, my steps filled with rage that didn't stop until I was just inches away from him.

What if you're sorry? What if I told you you're okay after I ripped your heart out? Maybe you're even alive, Laury? Any of those things would have helped, really. Somehow, your brother—you know, the one who kept me from crying or sleeping at night—was the one who wrote to me, who called me, who told me you'd give me goosebumps, who asked me to give you another chance, to be patient.

—Oh, so another conversation you and Jer had about me, without me participating.

"Don't even think about pretending that's why this is all about you," I tell her furiously. "It's because you're too obsessed with what your ex did and said to realize I'm not her."

"You don't know anything about that," he replies through gritted teeth.

“I know everything. I’m living it!” I shout, anger mixed with pain, making my voice hoarse. “The distrust he generated in you; I suffer from it. The way he suddenly decided he didn’t want you or Jeremiah; somehow, I’ve taken his place, even though I was the one who sought you out when we dated. I’ve never, ever done anything but tell you exactly how I feel. When I didn’t want feelings, I made it clear. When I started having feelings, I made it clear. Now, I love you and Jeremiah so much, and I can’t even tell you straight because, clearly, you don’t care.”

His wide eyes dart back and forth between mine. I told Jeremiah I loved him, tenderly and sadly, but I basically just said those words to Ezequiel. I didn't come here to tell him, and now I just want to run. I turn around, but I can't take a single step before Ezequiel's hand circles my forearm, pulling me toward his body. His other hand grabs my other arm when I try to pull away.

"Let me go," I croak. "I didn't come here to confess that, or for you to lay your hands on me."

He just hugs me tighter.