But they don’t.
They never do.
I remember the way she used to look at me, like I was her entire universe. I remember the way she laughed when I did something stupid. I remember the way she fought for me when no one else would.
And I remember the way I broke her.
I remember the way her face crumpled when I told her I never loved her.
God, what a lie.
I loved her so much it terrified me.
But back then, I was a coward.
A selfish, broken coward.
And now, all I have left are the ghosts.
---
Sometime around 3 a.m., I slip out of bed, pad barefoot to the living room, and sink onto the couch.
I grab my phone.
Hover over Jasper’s name.
Hover over Corine’s.
Hover, but never press call.
Because what the hell would I say?
Hey, where’s your sister?
Hey, where’s your best friend?
Hey, where’s the woman I shattered and left to pick up the pieces of her own heart?
No.
I don’t deserve to ask.
I don’t deserve to know.
So I put the phone down, lean back, and stare out at the horizon.
And in the silence, in the dark, I whisper her name.
“Brittany…”
My voice cracks.
“I’m sorry.”
But the night doesn’t answer.
And neither does she.
