So, some of you may be wondering where I have been lately. The holidays killed it for me and since then I have been taking each day a little slower, which means I have been spending more time with my husband and my kids and less time on the computer. Some other things I have been doing: writing, reading, and homework. Yes, at nearly 30 years old, I have homework lol
If you have been keeping up on the blog and my latest projects, you should already be familiar with
Stranded. I am proud to say that it is doing wonderfully. I can't wait to finish
That First Kiss, the second book in the Night Calls series and share it will y'all!
In the meantime, I want to share a new project with you that I am really exited about. Like anything that I write, this one has a bit of me in it. Unlike my other projects, this one has much more of me in it than anything else I have ever written. It's far from being an autobiography, but I'll leave it up to you to figure out what parts reflect my life and what parts are purely fiction. Here is the first chapter. Feel free to weigh in, share your thoughts and suggestions, and most importantly, enjoy!
Heart’s Desire
Life
is 10% of what happens to you and 90% of how you react to it.
That moment when you realize that you
care about others more than they will ever care about you is the moment you
realize that you walk alone in this world. It has taken my whole life to learn
this lesson, and I have learned it well. Caring is in my blood. It is who I am.
I don’t know that I can ever change, and I don’t know that I want to. Opening
myself up to others leaves my heart vulnerable to their abuse, and although I
am weary of being kicked, I have no desire to kick back. For those of you who
think I need to grow up, stand up for myself, know this. This thing that I have,
it’s a soul deep affliction, an illness nearly impossible to overcome. The
world needs people like me. It needs someone willing to love even if they are
not loved back. This is my story.
Chapter 1
“He cheated,” I
say, looking down at my shoes, my face awash in embarrassment. As if I am the
one who has sinned.
“You’re kidding,”
Charity gasps. “How did you find out?” Everything in her voice tells me that
she is invested in my heartache, just as surprised as I am, and maybe even a
little angry on my behalf. But her eyes, they tell a different story. While I
pour my heart out to her, her interest is on something in the distance.
“He told me last
night.” As I speak, I follow the direction of her gaze to a group of boys
standing alongside a row of bright orange lockers. They’re seniors, two full
grades ahead of us, but Charity watches them with an interest that suggests she
doesn’t care. In fact, I know she doesn’t because Charity is a firm believer
that age is just a number.
“What an ass.”
She shakes her head. “Did he give you a reason? Did you guys break up?”
Again shame
grabs hold of me, hanging on my shoulders and pressing them down until I feel
like the added weight might finally break me. It’s unreasonable to feel this
way, I know, but I can’t help feeling that what I am about to tell her will
make her think I am a fool. Hell, I think I’m a fool. “He liked the attention.”
I tell her exactly what he told me. “He doesn’t feel like I have been giving
him enough of that lately. He was lonely.”
As the words
pour out, a tremor takes root in my stomach. I feel sick just thinking about
it. We haven’t had much time alone together lately because of my new job.
Between school and work, our relationship has been pushed to the back burner.
Charity huffs a
laugh. “Ethan only said that because he still wants to have his cake and eat it
too. You know that, right?”
I do know that,
intellectually. But my heart aches just thinking about walking away from
everything that we’ve built over the last year—and eternity in high school
terms. “Yeah,” I say, because how am I supposed to respond? I feel like an
idiot.
Charity stops in
the middle of the hall and turns to face me. “You didn’t break up with him, did
you?” Her tone is filled with disappointment, as if she already knows what my
answer will be. Maybe she does. We’ve been tentative friends since the third
grade, best friends since the summer before sixth. I can still remember the
night we met. Laney, a mutual friend of ours, introduced us one evening. During
an enthusiastic bike race in which we were pitted against one another, Charity
and I bonded over talks of our moody friend and, realizing that we made a good
pair, rode off into the sunset together. Well, toward her house at any rate.
“No,” I tell
her, trying desperately to hold my head up, but I can’t look at her. I can’t
take my eyes off the three boys we’re closing in on. I wonder if any of them
have a girlfriend and if they are cheaters too. In the back of my mind, I
realize that at the age of fourteen I am already becoming jaded, but I don’t
know how to stop it. Life happens. It changes you, and not always for the
better.
“He’s going to
do it again,” Charity warns.
I know the
chances of that are high. Once a cheater, always a cheater, they say. Whoever “they”
are. But all I can picture is Ethan’s face, twisted in agony, as he knelt
before me in the middle of my bedroom floor. “I’m so sorry, Tess. I never meant
to hurt you.”
Tears are
streaking down his face. My chest is so constricted I can’t breathe. My heart hurts.
I think it might have actually fractured in two, but I know that’s not possible
because I’m not dead. It want to die, though, it hurts that bad.
Looking down at
him, with his arms wrapped around my waist, his face buried in my abdomen, I
resist the urge to hug him to me, to weave my fingers through his soft black
hair and never let him go. Yesterday he was mine, today he feels like a
stranger. But I still want him. How is that possible?
When he tips his
head back and peers up at me through those big brown eyes, anger tears through
me. I want to punch him. To make him hurt as much as he has hurt me.
“Please,” he
whispers, his voice sounding choked. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
I know right
then that I won’t break up with him. Not because I think he will die without me—he’s
already proven that he would find someone else to take my place—but because I
don’t know what I would do without him.
I don’t say
anything. I can’t speak for the lump in my throat, but Ethan must have seen the
answer in my eyes because he lets out a shuddering breath and stands. His
strong hands envelope my face and he pulls me to him, kissing my nose, my
mouth, my forehead and uttering a million breathless ‘I love you’s’ as he hugs
me to his chest. I feel his relief, but all I feel is a pervading sadness seeping
into my soul like poisonous tar. And the anger hasn’t gone away. The longer I
stand there, feeling his thudding heart slowly return to a natural pace beneath
my cheek, the more my muscles tense. When he leans back to smile down at me, I
tell him I want to punch him.
“I don’t blame
you,” he responds. “I deserve to be punched for what I’ve done to you.”
And so I punch
him.
I expected to
feel better, like hitting him would liberate me from this turmoil slowly eating
me away inside, but I don’t. I feel worse. You should never hurt someone you
love.
Charity continues
to chastise me as we make our way past the seniors who barely glance our way. I
nod and ‘Mm hmm’ in all the appropriate places, but I’m not really listening
anymore. There is only so much guilt a person can take before they begin to
shut down.
The lunch hour
is over and I have just enough time to make it to my locker and my next class
before the late bell. Located on the first floor, my locker is the perfect
distance between both of our midafternoon classes, just like Charity’s locker
on the third floor is perfect for our morning classes. To make things easier,
we decided to share the too small space.
“You’ll be okay,”
Charity assures me as she opens the locker and reaches in for her change of
clothes. Her next class is gym.
“Yeah, I know.”
I try on a smile, but it feels as forced as it is. She frowns. “No worries. Hey.”
Reaching in for my math book, I opt for a subject change. “Do you want to stay
over tonight?”
“No, I can’t.
Shay and some of the other cheerleaders invited me to this party at Greg’s.”
I nod my head
and try to look cheerful and accepting even though inside I feel my tentative hold
on my emotions slipping. Ever since high school started and Charity decided to
join the squad I’ve felt the line between us growing thinner. We talk every
day, but it’s not the same as it used to be. She’s pulling away, our lives are
going in different directions, and I hate it.
“Oh, hey,” she
places her hand on my arm. “You can come if you want?”
Charity doesn’t
realize she has a tell, but I recognize the too bright smile and arched eyebrow
for what it is. She thinks she’s hurt my feelings and so she is offering to
include me in her plans even though it’s the last thing she wants to do.
“That’s okay,” I
tell her. I start backwards down the hall, needing to put distance between us
before I do something stupid, like cry. “I’m not really in the mood for a party
tonight.” I purse my lips and give her a meaningful look. I don’t miss the
relief behind her eyes when she nods sympathetically.
“Okay.” She
starts to walk away, but spins around like she’s forgotten something. “Oh, I
almost forgot. Can you give me a ride home after school?”
And there it is;
our unbreakable bond. Charity knows she can always count on me, even though I'm
sure I can’t say the same about her. “Sure. I’ll wait for you in the parking
lot.”
