And most importantly, away from Naomi.
Away from the lies she told, away from every smile and bone-melting kiss that made my walls crumble, ensuring I was defenseless when the arrow came sailing through to hit me right in the chest. Through the heart, burrowing in so deep I don’t know if I’ll ever get it out.
She was with my brother.
She slept with Jamison the night before she broke up with me via a Dear John letter. And then both of them kept that from me for fifteen years.
Fifteen fucking years.
At first, I was angrier at Jamison—Naomi’s been gone for so long; it’s Jamison who lied to my face day after day—but now all I can think about is Naomi.
What on earth made her think she could keep this from me? That she could waltz back into my life and my heart and let me love her without telling me the truth?
If only she’d told me the night we first decided to give things another chance maybe I could have forgiven her—maybe.
But now…
I slam my fist into the dashboard hard enough to send a wave of pain shooting through my hand. The truck veers across the centerline before I regain control and guide it back into my lane.
There’s no one on the road, nothing but silent, black fields for miles in every direction, but I still shouldn’t be driving while I’m this upset. The only thing that could make this night any worse would be hurting an innocent person, or God forbid, taking a life the way Jenny’s was taken. I’m not too concerned with my future right now, but no one else deserves to suffer for my stupidity.
When I see the turnoff for the old Pottstown bridge—the one we used to drive out to in high school to drink beer and play music and dangle our legs over the edge while the midnight train roared by underneath—I consider it a sign and take a hard right, rumbling onto the gravel road.
The bridge reminds me of Naomi, too, of the evening we came out here alone and spent the night snuggled under sleeping bags in the bed of my truck, staring at stars that were always so much brighter away from the lights of town.
I haven’t been back here since she left Bliss River.
Even when my friends begged me to come out for a party after our graduation ceremony, I begged off. I hadn’t wanted to spend time in places that reminded me of the girl I’d lost, or how much a part of me she’d been.
But tonight, the bridge is perfect, the perfect place to hurl the ring box in my pocket down onto the tracks for the next train to run over.
I certainly won’t be needing it.
It’s over with Naomi and me.
For good this time.
A stupid, pitiful part of me wants to forgive her—to find some way to justify her behavior—but I can’t. I just…can’t.
Fool me once; shame on her. But fool me twice…
If I give her the chance to fool me a third time, I’d be a fucking idiot who deserves to be miserable for the rest of his life.
I pull to the edge of the road a half mile from the bridge, parking in a fallow field that looks like it hasn’t been planted in decades. Pottsville had a history of flooding even back before the hurricane season rains got more intense. By the early 2000s, the area was pretty much abandoned. Now, the only people who come out here are kids wanting to party on the bridge and hunters roaming the wetlands during duck season.
Tonight, there are neither.
I slam out of the truck and walk toward the shadow of the bridge completely alone, nothing but the sound of my footsteps to keep me company. All around, the world is cold and silent and still, lit by a pale winter moon that makes everything seem a little surreal.
If I let myself, I could imagine the past hour was just a terrible dream, that my brother never told me that he fucked the woman I love, that I never punched him in the face or left the ball without a word to Naomi.
I wonder how she’ll realize I left…
Maybe she’ll start looking for me and see my truck is gone.
Or maybe Jamison will tell her.
Maybe my brother will go back inside, tell Naomi their secret is out, and Naomi will decide to let him comfort her the way he did when they were teenagers.
Logically, I know that isn’t going to happen. No chance in hell.
But the thought is still enough to make me kick the stone side of the bridge, sending a wave of agony shooting up my leg. At this rate I’ll be black and blue by morning.
But I’m fine with that. At least it’ll give me something to focus on besides the rotten, aching knot in my chest.