Forgive my deceitfulness and the pain that I have caused you. I have no choice but to let you go so that my past does not become your future. You deserve so much more than a life full of running and looking over your shoulder. You deserve a house on a hill with a yard and a tree house. Sprinklers on hot summer days and a freezer full of popsicles. A Christmas tree in the front window with presents surrounding it. A home. Where you and Enzo can live your lives in peace.
Sofia, know that as I write this, the taste of your kiss lingers on my lips. The smell of your skin surrounds me and the memory of how you felt in my arms is the only thing that keeps my heart from shattering into a million pieces.
I love you and everything that makes you... you. Your stubbornness, which makes me want to throw you down on the bed and do unimaginable things to you. Your kindness that sometimes is the weakness that so many will use as an opportunity to hurt you. The selflessness that you have when it comes to the one person in your life that you would give up your own happiness for. How you cannot walk and chew gum at the same time, but have been able to juggle raising Enzo and making sure that he has somewhat of a normal childhood. You are a survivor. Please, don’t
ever forget that and let that be the strength that you need to make every damn thing that you want out of life come true.
As much as it burns my very soul to think of you with another, I know that it is inevitable. Because you are... well, you. Love will find you again and when it does, promise me that you will lower that wall of yours and let it in. You deserve to be happy. I love you and want this for you more than anything, even if I can’t be a part of it.
Please don’t forget me. Some people search their entire lives and will never experience the love that we shared. As I try to make my way through this life without you, half of my heart will always remain in your hands. When my last breath breaks free and I leave this earth, I will find comfort in knowing that your name will be the last whisper from my lips.
All my love,
Noah
Holding the last words that I will ever read from the man that I trusted with my heart and the tattered parts of my soul is almost too much to bear. My body begins shaking and I allow the waves of sorrow to crash through me like an ocean wave slamming against the shore. Pressing the letter to my chest, I let the tears fall. They roll down my cheeks and soak the pages in my hands. If this is what it feels like to let someone in, to allow them to break down the wall that you build for the sole purpose of protecting yourself, then I will never be such a fool again.
I fall apart for what seems like the rest of the day, but in all actuality only a few minutes have passed. A broken heart does that. It makes the hands on the clock stop, tricking your mind into thinking that you will forever be stuck... forever broken.
I pull myself together and grab the other envelope left in the box.
What more could you possibly have to say, Noah Stine?
Brown Eyes,
I know that your stubborn ass self is not gonna want to accept this. But please, for you and Lorenzo, take it and get to building your life.
I am now holding the title to my Jeep and it’s signed over to me. I’m not at all shocked by this, in the least bit. He told me that it was a graduation gift and he in no way would take it back. What I am dumbfounded about though, is what I am staring at in my now trembling hands. A cashier's check that makes my heart stop dead in its tracks.
$100,000.00
How in the actual…?
What the…?
This is not happening.
I am suddenly lightheaded and feel as if I am in some bad Lifetime movie.
But I’m not. And as I flip the check around, trying desperately to find some truth that it is absolutely, by no means, real... I find nothing to prove it fake.
It is as real as I am, sitting on Ezra’s guest bed, longing for some bit of normalcy that I used to know. If that is what you want to call it.
I snatch my cell phone up and open my messages. Before I can stop myself, I am texting Noah with maddening fingers.
I erase it. Type. Erase it. Type. Erase it.
Finally, I leave it blank and close it out. I am now scrolling through a handful of pictures that I have left from the time that we spent together. His loving arm is draped over my shoulder as I hold the camera up for a selfie. The light that sparkled in his eyes and those decadent dimples dancing on his face make a smile break through the horrific pain that I am feeling right now. That happiness is short lived though, because the very life that he breathed into me, is now nothing more than a picture on my phone.
A memory. Oh, how I despise that word.
He came into my life and now he’s gone.
He’s gone.
With a swipe of my finger, I shut my phone down and do exactly what he told me not to do.
I start building that wall up again. I am going to do everything that I fucking said I was going to do, before he came crashing into my world. I am going to build a life for Lorenzo and me.
I am going to break away.
Fireworks light up the sky as I nurse my beer. I'm tapping my foot to the music that's coming from the downtown square and take notice that they are a little sore from all of the walking around I did today. The band is playing well into the night, closing out another Fourth of July for the books. I can’t help but thank my small town for making the Fourth my favorite holiday. The three-day celebration that we put on every year puts any other town’s sad little attempt to celebrate Independence Day to shame.
Outhouse races, old fashioned tractor pulls, duck races, the street dance, and fireworks at the high school. I look forward to it every year and make sure that I don't miss a single event.
When I was little, I used to be embarrassed that Durand was known as the outhouse capital of the world. My Nonna told me stories from many years ago, when people would go around collecting all of the farmers' outhouses and then drop them in the middle of the square on Halloween night. Because of this crazy historic prank, crowds of people surrounded the square this afternoon, cheering on their loved ones as teams of four pushed an outhouse with someone sitting in it to the finish line. Now, I can’t help but love that we are known for such ridiculousness.
I was relieved that I was able to avoid my mother. I knew that she was working at the Corner Tap because she wouldn’t have missed out on the tips that she was going to make off the street dance. I left early so that I didn’t risk running into her after her shift. She would be one of the last standing and most likely would end up passed out on a bench somewhere. I had seen enough of that growing up. The best part of this Fourth was that I didn’t have to be a witness to it anymore.
As I sit on the steps to my front porch, I tip my head back and look up at the sky, in awe at all the colors that are exploding above me.
My front porch.
It's still so surreal to me. The second that the For Sale sign went up in the yard, I was scheduling a time to look at it. Before I knew it, I was sitting in the office of Gambino Realtors,
my hand cramping as I signed my name to what seemed to be a thousand pieces of papers.
Sofia Lombardi
I did it.
I was doing what I set out to do and because of Noah, I was finally able to take the first step in getting Enzo back. It took all I had to stop myself from crying when the middle-aged realtor handed me the keys to my house.
I saved the tears for when I unlocked the door and let myself into my two-bedroom bungalow with hardwood floors throughout. It sits on one acre on the outskirts of town and is an atrocious baby poop yellow, but it has a porch swing, so that more than makes up for the color.
I could hardly contain myself as I organized my Dollar General finds into the cabinets. New dishes, pots and pans, towels, and even memory foam rugs for in front of the kitchen sink and tub. The huge kitchen window looks out over the cornfields that surround me. A tire swing dangles in the air from one of the dozen oak trees that towers over the house.
It has its quirks, as I am sure every first house does. The faucet in the bathroom leaks, the windows have no screens on them and the lock on the front door sticks. But it is mine, and thoughts of my Nonna looking down on me makes me smile a little bigger every day. This house is exactly what I needed to help myself heal and start to move on.
Now, here I am celebrating my very first Fourth of July in our home. Unfortunately, Enzo isn’t running around in the front yard, twirling sparklers in the air. He is still with my mother. As things often tend to go in my life, this plan of mine went horribly wrong. I knew nothing of the laws when it came to taking a child away from their mother. I may have lived through the horrific conditions and treatment in that trailer, but when it came to the state, they only saw the surface. He had no signs of physical abuse, the home was in acceptable living conditions and my mom was as sober as a church girl the day they did their visit.
My mother was beyond livid that I called Child Services on her and left me a voicemail that would turn the devil's blood warm. She swore that I would never so much as lay eyes on my brother as long as she lived and would call the police if I so much as said boo to him.
Now, the only contact that I have with him is through Mrs. Carlson. She lets me know how he is doing and makes sure to pass along his artwork that has now taken over my fridge. I am forever grateful that he has her to look after him while my mother is at work. The only time that I get to see him is when I drive by him playing on the playground at school. I don’t dare stop because I know that will only anger my mother and by triggering her, I will only start a domino effect that will hurt my brother in the end. What I would give to feel his tiny arms wrap me up in a warm hug, or feel his soft golden curls tickle my cheek. It’s been a treacherous year of him being no more than a distant image of a child that once was my entire world. It shatters my very soul that he is nothing more than a pawn in my mother’s horrific game of revenge and I will never forgive her for that.
So, now I sit on my front porch nursing a beer and wondering as always, what my little brother is up to.
“Sof, you need a nipple for that thing.” I look up at Corbin, who is swinging entirely too high on the porch swing and roll my eyes at him.
“Nope, doing just fine over here. But you're about to rip that thing down or bash it through my bedroom window and then—”
“Then what?” He jumps off and heads inside for what I am sure are shots of some sort.
Corbin Williams has turned out to be just what I needed after Ezra headed off to college. I went to school with him, but we never really acknowledged each other. That was until he started coming into Pacemaker for his daily fix of Monster and what seemed to be an obsession with Slim Jims. I finally asked him why he only came to my lane and felt horrible as I watched him turn three shades of red. I invited him over for a fire and we have been hanging out ever since.
He's good looking with blond hair, closely shaven to his head and green eyes that would make most girls' knees shake. I'm pretty certain that he sought me out for something more than friends, but we both agreed that the chemistry just wasn’t there. I was grateful that he felt this way because I really enjoy hanging out with him. And if this last year has taught me anything, it’s that not many, if any, will ever hold a candle to Noah.
What I really love about Corbin is that he doesn't give a shit about what people are saying about me. He doesn’t care what people think. He still lives at home and works on his family farm that someday he will inherit and run. I have come to the realization during our late-night chats by the bonfire in my backyard that he isn’t fond of farming. His true love is the fire station. He's a volunteer EMT and firefighter there and wants nothing more than to make it his living someday. However, farming pays the bills, and he knows how to do it. So he does.
I slam the rest of my beer, knowing damn well that Corbin will not be coming back empty handed and hear a Ting from my phone. I smile when I see his face light up my screen. As I always do.
Happy 4th Brown Eyes. Hope you are having fun. SAFE fun at home.
Yup, that’s my Noah.
I am. Can’t talk too long. I'm up next for the wet t-shirt keg stand.
I chuckle to myself as I watch three dots immediately start flickering under my response.
I hope you are kidding because I am throwing my shoes on as I type to drive to Illinois and whoop that ass.
I feel a warm flutter stir in my belly, that only Noah can bring out. I raise my phone to take a selfie and stick my tongue out at the camera. I hit send and jerk as an ice-cold bottle grazes the back of my neck.
“Jesus, Corbin. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Then my day has been a success.” He laughs and sits down next to me, handing me a shot of our weakness, Fireball.
“Who you texting, Ezra or Noah?” He makes a lovesick face as we clink our shot glasses together and slam them back.
“As if it is any concern of yours. Noah. Ezra is much too busy learning how to surf in Cali right now.” I roll my eyes and twist off my beer cap, welcoming the ice-cold Summer Shandy that cools my now burning throat.
Here’s to small towns and knowing who will buy you alcohol.
“Yeah, that sucks. Won’t see her till Thanksgiving now.”
“I know and that is forever. Don’t get me wrong, I'm happy for her and would have done the same thing. She told me that she and Chase breaking up was mutual, but I didn't buy it. I know that her going to Cali with her friends from college was her way of avoiding him this summer.”
“Oh, for sure that’s why she went.” He twirls his bottle between his hands, and I get the impression that he wants to say more. But doesn’t.
“What’s on your mind, Corb?” I put my beer to my lips and take a long slow sip, waiting for him to talk.
“I don’t know what it is with that guy. You talk about him all the time, say he was the love of your life, you text each other like you can’t stand to be apart, but you aren’t together?” He shakes his head in confusion and downs the rest of his beer.
“It’s confusing.”
“Confusing? Oh, ok. I don’t know if I want to get into all that, but I will state the obvious and the obvious is, the guy’s an idiot.” He pulls out his smokes and offers me one. I don’t know why he insists on doing this because I never accept.
Ting
I see Corbin is over again. Guess I will let you get back to your little party. Have a good night. Talk soon.
I'm confused as to how the hell he knows that Corbin is over and look up and down the street, secretly hoping that he is parked somewhere in the shadows. Disappointed, I start to text him back and notice that the picture I sent him has Corbin in the background.
Oh my God Noah...we are just friends. Have a good night.
Ting
You too Brown Eyes. And don’t kid yourself. No one could ever just be friends with you.
I send him a GIF with a girl rolling her eyes and wait for him to respond. He doesn’t and I decide that another shot is needed. We head back inside and throw back two, or three, possibly five more Fireballs and end up falling asleep on the couch watching The Vampire Diaries.
I forced Corbin to watch a few episodes with me and now we are on season five. He swore to me in secrecy that he not only watches it, but also is a fan of their page on Facebook. In return, I told him he could never tell a soul that I still talk to Noah.
After Noah came into my world, wreaking havoc and leaving my heart to bleed out at my feet, I can’t make any sense of why I still do. I have tried to detach, to distance myself from his world and offer him no glimpse into mine, but for some reason he offers me the comfort that I so desperately need when my everything is falling apart. Even from a thousand miles away, a simple text lighting up my screen calms me and makes me feel whole again. It probably, no... most definitely is not the healthiest of ways to break away from somebody, especially after I am the one that pushed him away. But anyone who says there’s an exact way
to heal from a broken heart, never truly experienced one to begin with.
I toss my phone on the bed beside me and rub at my chin. Oh, that woman. She really has a way about her. I don’t know if it’s her smart-ass attitude or the way that I crave her body more than I have ever craved another, but she gets me all sorts of irritated. I can’t shake her out of my head. She is the last thing that I think of and the first thought that I wake up to. I have tried to cleanse her from my soul, but that only left me on a barstool in Memphis, flirting with some blond chick that’s breath reeked of an ashtray, wearing a shit ton of makeup that looked like a botched-up tutorial from YouTube. The old me would have taken her back to my hotel and fucked her doggy style clear into the morning. Hell, I would have even let her stay a few nights and had my way with her some more.
That’s the old me, though. This new me is making me want to lose my freaking mind. I don’t have much of a choice but to embrace new me. I had to protect Sofia from the horror of my past. Had I involved her, God only knows where that would have led. She was the weakness that I never sought out. Crew knew that and it was only a matter of time before the sick fuck would have used her against me. The fear of going to jail and him having full on access to her was the very thought that sent me packing.
I don’t regret it, not for a minute. But this moving on has been hell. Sleepless nights. Visiting the hotel bar more than usual. Trying everything to shake her and not a damn thing works. So, I text her and she texts me. If that is all I can have of her, pieces here and there, I will take it.
Bonus is that I get to be in the loop on how she is doing. I even signed up for a Facebook account, so that I could see how her life was going. The highlight of my day is when I get a notification that she posted something. Her before and after of the kitchen cabinets that she painted. Her first ripe tomato out of her garden. I click the love icon under every one of them.
Break Away: A Midwest Small Town Romance Page 21