Pieces of Us (Confessions of the Heart 3)
Eat me alive.
Who was I kidding? It’d been eating me alive all along.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” I finally admitted, wisps of agony clotting my voice.
All these years, she and I had remained friends.
She, our friend Courtney who still lived in the area, and I had grown up thick. With each other every second that our parents would let us.
Over the years, I’d stayed closer with Faith, who had a quiet spirit I couldn’t help but be drawn to.
Understanding.
A confidant I could trust with anything.
We’d communicated through emails and phone calls and Skype. She’d even been out to visit me once.
But I knew the burden it put on her shoulders.
That I’d asked so much of her.
Especially once she’d finally married her high school sweetheart, Jace, who just so happened to be one of Maxon’s best friends.
“Are you askin’ for my advice?” Her voice filled with playful speculation.
“I don’t usually need to considerin’ you’re all too happy to dish it out,” I returned, teasing her a little. She never hesitated to tell me like it was. Of course, she never judged me when I refused to agree.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t call me for that very reason.”
“Well, that’s because you’re very wise,” I shot back.
“I’m taking that as a compliment.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “As you should. You’re kinda awesome.”
She laughed, then sobered, waiting for me to catch up to the original question.
In contemplation, I twirled the end of my ponytail that had fallen over my shoulder. “Okay, fine, what do you think I should do?”
“I think you should tell him.”
Right, right.
Just throw myself right off a bridge. My broken heart flailing out in front of me. No one there to catch it when it hit the raging water below and got lost in the waves of the river.
I’d barely been holding onto it, all along.
“And what then?” I asked, the words burning like a knife dragged up the inside of my throat.
“I don’t have the answer to that, Izzy. That’s a chance you’re gonna have to take. And I know what he did to you was horrible. Horrible. I won’t even try to make excuses for that. But he is a good man. I wouldn’t be suggesting this if I didn’t wholly believe that is the truth.”
Anxiety hit me, so strong I felt some kind of attack coming on. Knowing she was right. Not wantin’ her to be. My head shook fiercely. “How can I just. . . trust him like that?”
“You take a leap. It’s the only thing any of us can do.”
“I don’t know if I can handle him hurting me any more.” Grief rode out on the confession, those wounds gaping in a way they hadn’t in a long, long time.
Because somehow . . . somehow it felt as if Maxon Chambers had once again gained the upper hand. My life held in his palms even when he shouldn’t have any power.
“I know you don’t believe it, but he’s been hurtin’, too,” she murmured.
Of course, I knew it. That man had always bled pain. It was his biggest pitfall—his refusal to see that he could live outside of it. The belief that maybe my love could have been enough.
“I don’t know if I’m ready,” I said.
“You’ve been hiding for a long, long time, Izzy. Don’t you think it’s about time you freed yourself from the cell you’ve been locked in? You’ve let the past dim your light. You’re one of the most brilliant, genuine, caring people I know, and you hide all of that behind your pain and fear. You can’t fly if you’re wearing chains.”
Sorrow constricted my throat, making everything tight, my heart and my stomach and my skin. “And how do you stop being afraid of the one thing that can destroy you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you slay it.”
Five
Izzy
Four Years Old
Fear crawled all over her, like ants were marching across her skin, bitin’ everywhere they went. She hugged the limb tighter, so scared to let go, but the bark was rough and hard and it was gettin’ harder and harder to hold on.
It hurt.
It hurt.
But it was gonna hurt way, way worse if she fell the rest of the way to the ground, and she was gonna get into so much trouble.
A breeze rustled through the trees, and the branch she was clinging to swished to the side.
Her eyes stung so bad, her tears hot where they were streaking down her cheeks, making her hair stick to her face.
Don’t look down.
Don’t look down.
“Help!” she cried out again, her throat hurting almost as bad as her arms from screaming for so long. “Please . . . someone help me! I want my mama!”
Her arms were shaking as bad as the leaves, and the tears were coming faster, her arms tired and weak.
Her daddy had told her she was gonna get a broken leg or a broken head the last time he’d found her climbing up and down, so, so mad, crying, too, and saying he’d never been so scared.