Page 93 of Shattered Oaths

There are three people that I have grieved in my lifetime, and all three ofthem still walk this earth.

My dad.

My mom.

And now,him.

I grieved for my dad when he walked out of us as children, leaving us behind to fend for ourselves.

I grieved for my mom when she became somebody, I no longer recognise, choosing her next drink over her children without a second thought.

And now, I grieve Noah. I grieve the man I thought he was. The future I had pictured every time he told me I was his. The sound of his voice in the mornings when he woke me up with breakfast.

I miss him.

And I miss sleep.

For the first three days, all I did was sleep. It was easier to just close my eyes and let the darkness take me away. But ever since the day I’d made the mistake of following the heated voices and saw him standing outside my brother’s house declaring his love for me, I’ve been tortured with images of his devastated face every time I’ve shut my eyes.

And every time I’ve ventured out of the spare bedroom and down the stairs, my eyes have been drawn to the large window, to the dark truck that’s been nestled between the trees all night, every night for the past four days.

He’s always gone when the sun comes up, but as soon as it sets again, there he is. Watching and waiting.

I’d be lying if I said that seeing him there doesn’t affect me.

As hurt as I am, I can’t help but worry about him. I can’t imagine he’s getting much sleep out there. But then again, I’m not getting much sleep in here.

I’ve lain awake most nights, watching as the ceiling lights up from the text message I’ve received every night like clockwork and fighting against the urge to pick it up and reply.

As if on cue, my phone buzzes on the nightstand, the room illuminated by the screen. And just like last night and all the nights before, I lean over and pick it up.

Noah:Good night, Bella.

Everything inside me twists, my bottom lip trembling at the three simple words.

I stare at them for so long that my screen blurs and I imagine him doing the same, sitting in the dark cab of his truck, the only light coming from his phone as he waits for those three little dots to appear.

Four days.That’s how long it’s been since I overheard him say he loves me. Since he’s been camping out in my brother’s driveway and sending me good night texts.

Today marks one week since the last time he touched me, kissed me,humiliatedme.

I haven’t been to work.

Summer and my kitchen staff have been a godsend for the past week. They are the only things keeping my business afloat.

I haven’t spoken to Savannah or Liv, but I know Daisy would have been keeping them in the loop. Killian has been trying to make amends and although I’m still disappointed with him and the way he treated me like I was nothing but a stranger last week at The Boot, I love him for it.

Sometimes I forget that while I’m dealing with my own heartbreak, he has also lost the closest thing he’s ever had to a brother.

I don’t know if their friendship is beyond repair, but it hurts my heart to think that I’m the reason for it.

I sigh, the weight of everything sitting heavy on my chest as I look back at the phone in my hand.

I don’t forgive Noah. I’m not sure if I ever will. But there is a part of me, a very small part, that understands why he did what he did.

When I put myself in his eighteen-year-old shoes, I can see why waking up next to your best friends seventeen-year-old sister would make you panic and do something stupid like pretend it didn’t happen.

What I can’t get passed is the lying about it for eight years.