More Than Anything (Broken Pieces 1)

She had disappeared for a while after that night, at first actively avoiding him by not coming out with her family when they attended Chapman family functions, and not even visiting Libby. Then she’d gone away to Scotland for her gap year.

He’d followed her on social media, but she hadn’t posted any pictures—strange for someone who was enjoying her first independent trip abroad. He’d questioned Libby about Tina’s whereabouts, and she had been equally clueless. Saying she only received the occasional text message. He had even tried to ask Smith about her, but the other guy had shrugged off his questions. The lack of information had been bizarre, but, while he’d had the resources, Harris had known it wasn’t his place to pry and had left her alone, focusing on his own life and studies instead. He’d moved on, met other women, traveled, and enjoyed his early twenties with reckless abandon.

When Tina had returned from her mysterious gap year, Harris had been shocked by the change in her the first time he saw her. Such haunting sadness in her eyes—she’d lost some weight and had a fragile appearance. She didn’t speak unless spoken to and didn’t make eye contact with anyone.

Harris had tried to talk with her, but she made it very plain she wasn’t interested in anything he had to say to her.

She’d started college, her aim to go into medicine, then dropped out less than a year later. She tried random jobs, none of which stuck, and always seemed aimless and disinterested in doing much with her life. Her family had, at first, made excuses for her, but as the months and then years wore on, they made it quite clear that they were disappointed in her. And soon every time any of them referred to her in conversation, it was generally to say something negative. She had become the family failure, and they had no qualms about disassociating themselves from her bad decisions.

She’s lost yet another job? Oh, typical Tina, really. That girl can’t do anything right.

It had been hard to witness, and Harris had always felt a measure of guilt over it. Wondering if some of it was because of what had happened between them all those years ago, while simultaneously admiring her willingness to always try something new. But he’d beaten himself up over it for way too long, and while he wanted a new start with Tina, she had to let go of this long-standing resentment first.

And he wasn’t sure that would ever be possible. Libby had stared at him earlier like he was a monster. And if Tina could still paint him in such a negative light after the day they had spent together yesterday, then he hadn’t made any progress with her at all. She really did still hate him. Despite his apologies and attempted explanations.

He stared at the structure in front of him and dimly registered that he was home. He wasn’t sure how long he had stood staring at the house without even recognizing that he’d reached his destination. He trudged up the porch stairs and glumly made his way into the house.

He cast his eyes around the place. Despite the cleaning he had done yesterday, it still looked dingy and dirty.

Harris walked to his room on leaden feet and dragged out his duffel bag. Somewhere between the restaurant and the house, he’d made the decision to leave. Libby didn’t need him; that much was clear. She had a handle on Greyson and didn’t need Harris to run interference for her. Greyson didn’t need him either; he seemed better every time Harris spoke with him. He thought back to the lighthearted moment he had shared with his brother earlier. He wished he’d have time to explore that camaraderie even further and hoped that by the time Greyson returned home, they could continue where they’d left off.

And Tina . . . his hands stilled in the act of folding a T-shirt. He would never be to Tina what she was to him. It was time he accepted that and moved on with his life.

So this was him . . . moving on.

Tina felt dead inside. Everything was numb, and some part of her dumbly registered that it was probably for the best. She would likely be curled up in a ball right now if she could actually feel anything. She had harnessed every single coping mechanism in her arsenal to tell Libby about her baby without falling apart completely. She had never spoken of him to anyone. And even while talking about him to the woman who was like a sister to her, she had still been unable to actually say his name.

Libby had listened in shock, then horror, and finally with tears streaming down her face as Tina recounted the bare bones of her tale. No overly emotional explanations. Just the cold, hard facts. It was only when Libby asked for the details that Tina had found herself stumbling. Straying from the specifics into the traumatic emotions associated with that period of her life had been hard for her.