Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
"I miss you," I whisper, my voice barely audible in the stillness of the cemetery. My eyes fix on the headstone, its inscription softened by years of weathering, though her name still stands out like a beacon in my heart. "I miss you so much."
The wind rustles through the trees, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and the bittersweet memory of her favorite perfume. I sink to my knees, the damp earth beneath me a cold reminder of the finality of it all. My fingers trace the edges of her name carved into the stone, as if somehow touching it could bring her back to me, even for a moment.
The tears I thought I had cried out earlier come rushing back with a vengeance, stinging my eyes and blurring my vision. I don’t fight them this time. They fall freely, hot and relentless, as though they have been waiting for this exact moment to break free. Each sob that escapes my lips feels like a piece of my heart shattering all over again, like the grief is fresh and raw, no matter how many years have passed.
The silence around me is heavy, broken only by my quiet weeping and the distant chirping of birds—life moving on, as it always does. But here, in this place, time feels frozen. It's just me, the cold stone, and the aching void that she left behind.
"I need you," I choke out, my voice cracking under the weight of the words. "I don’t know how to do this without you."
I don’t know how to do any of it. The confusion and doubt swirl in my mind like a storm I can’t escape. I thought Tripp and I were in a good place. We laughed, we dreamed, we made plans for a future that seemed so sure. We understood each other, or at least I thought we did. We were building something solid together, weren’t we? Now, sitting here at my mother’s grave, I’m not so sure of anything anymore.
Maybe Tripp never saw us the way I did. Maybe, to him, I was just a prize—a shiny, unattainable trophy he could win to boost his ego. The thought hits me like a punch to the gut as I sit, knees tucked to my chest, by my mother’s grave.
She would know what to say. She would know how to fix this. I glance up at the sky, the clouds thick and heavy, as though they’re holding all the answers I can’t reach.
“I thought with Tripp, I’d always have someone by my side. I thought I was safe with him,” I whisper, my voice breaking under the weight of my confession. "I was so stupid." The words taste bitter on my tongue, but they feel true. How could I have been so blind, so naïve to believe in something that never really existed? I was an idiot. A complete idiot.
And there’s no one to blame but me.
“You’re not stupid,” a voice says from behind me, gentle but firm. A voice I’ve come to recognize all too well in the weeks we’ve spent together, through shared late-night conversations and stolen moments.
I freeze, my heart lurching in my chest as I turn to see Tripp standing there, his eyes dark and rimmed with a rawness I haven’t seen before. He looks like he’s been crying too. I quickly scramble to my feet, brushing the dirt and grass from my pants, trying to compose myself even though the hurt is still so fresh.
“How did you know I was here?” I ask, my voice barely steady. My pulse quickens, and I feel exposed, vulnerable under his gaze. His eyes lock with mine, searching for something, but I don’t know if I have any answers left to give.
“I followed you. Millie, when you ran out of Atta Boy I felt like my whole world crashed and burned. I didn’t know what to do so I froze.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Oh,” is all I can say.
He inches closer. “I saw Brock run after you, and next thing I knew my whole family was in my face. My mother was laying into me about what I said to you. Callum looked like he wanted to murder me, and Anya and Hartford were telling me to chase after you.”
“Oh.” It’s like my brain is broken and can’t come up with anything better to say to him. I want to scream at him. I want to tell him how badly he hurt me.
He inches a step closer, and I inch one step back. “Millie, I told everyone to shut up. I told them that I wrote a book, and I was going to publish it. I told them that I was in love with you.”
“Was?” I hear my faint voice say.
His eyes widen when he realizes what he’s said. “Am,” he shouts out. “Am in love with you. Millie, I’m so fucking in love with you my chest hurts when you’re not close to me. I love you more than my next breath. Right now I feel like my heart could literally explode if you never look at me the way you did the other night when I told you I loved you.” One tear trails down his cheek. “And the night you told me you loved me, I’d never been happier. I’m so sorry for what I said,” he says, his voice nearly threadbare and quiet. “I never want to see that look of hurt in your eyes for the rest of my life.”