He could take my virginity and my heart, but he would not take that zest for life that was central to me. The zest for love. For the fairy tale.
He gave me first-hand experience of the fact it wasn’t real.
And I spent years after that trying to prove him wrong.
Trying to fall in love with a thousand different guys so I could fall out of love with one.
Because I did still love him.
Even though he treated me horrendously. Callously. Even though his actions were unforgivable.
Actions were unforgivable. But love was not as easily swayed.
Broken hearts sometimes crave the person that broke them. No matter how unhealthy, ugly, and painful that need is, it doesn’t go away.
But I tried to cover it up.
Ignore it.
Prove to him that he did not own me.
Give my heart to everyone because I maintained the illusion that it didn’t belong to any of them. Not even me.
* * *
Four Years Later
“Polly!” Lucy yanked me into an uncharacteristic hug.
Lucy wasn’t a hugger.
I was. I was usually the one that had to wrangle her into any kind of affection. It wasn’t because she didn’t feel it, though it would seem like it on first glance. She was always wearing black, always elegant and in heels, her beautifully sharp features mostly sculpted into a mask of indifference. Even when she was hurting. Especially when she was hurting.
Which had been a lot from the moment she’d met Keltan.
Because people are not all smiles and happiness when they fall in love. No, if it’s real and true—like what Lucy and Keltan had—the smiles were rare, and misery was common.
A year ago, when this all began, Lucy smiled more than ever.
Which was the obvious sign of her misery, since she usually put more effort into looking happy when she was miserable.
There was nothing I could do, apart from hope that the universe gave my sister peace.
And a year later, a year full of misery and pain disguised by fake grins, her smile was real. Genuine.
It filled my heart.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said once she released me, fighting the tears that prickled the backs of my eyes. Tears of utter and complete relief that my sister was getting exactly what she deserved.
She grinned wider. “Oh, you’re not late.” She turned on her heel and walked farther into Keltan’s impressive apartment. I took this as my cue to follow. “I told you to come two hours earlier than I wanted you here,” she called over her shoulder, shouting because of the low thump of the music growing as we entered.
Of course, she knew me so well.
I didn’t mean to be late.
I tried my hardest to be early.
But Rain really needed my feedback on her routine for this comedy show she was doing. She was nervous. Her. The girl that flashed a cop to get herself out of a ticket. So I stayed and listened and laughed and gave her a little of what she needed. Most of it was going to come from her, she just needed someone to help her figure that out.
“Sorry we don’t have any kale juice or kombucha or whatever it is you’re into these days,” Lucy continued as I caught up with her. “But how about a beer?”
I grinned. “Beer sounds great.”
I smiled at a few people I kind of knew, but most were strangers. I smiled at them too. Not enough people smiled at strangers.
I hadn’t exactly mingled with Lucy’s L.A. crowd. I didn’t do much mingling with her friends back in Amber either. Apart from Rosie, and Ashley. And the Sons of Templar now and again. But the three of them did their best to keep me away from the notorious biker club saying I’d “bring trouble even someone like Gage couldn’t handle.”
But that was okay with me. As much as I respected their free-spirited life outsides the bounds of society, I was kind of against violence. Kind of being utterly and completely.
And they lived violent lives.
My crowd veered to a little more peaceful end of the spectrum. Not that I stuck to one ‘crowd.’ I wasn’t in a group in high school, I was the nomad who was friends with everyone and no one, who had a different boyfriend who took her to different parties where she met different people every week.
I was addicted to that. Knowing different people, how they lived their lives, how I could fit into some version of it. Sometimes I did. For a while at least.
It was only here in my loft in L.A. with the group of misfits that I was thinking maybe I might fit. But since I was exploring that, I hadn’t hung out with Lucy and Keltan much. To be fair, they’d only just gotten their shit together after over a year of painful separation.
They definitely didn’t need Lucy’s little sister cramping their style.