Page 66 of The Other Side

Or maybe that’s my heart playing devil’s advocate.

Yeah.

My fingers mindlessly dig into the fabric of my sweatpants. The morning rays touch the rich grass, igniting a sparkle atop the green needles. I slip the end of the cylindrical paper through my lips, ingesting before releasing a cloud of smoke once more.

I’m not shocked I caved.

The moment was always certain. It was just a matter of time before the barrier between Brant and I snapped.

My gaze lands on the statue nestled between the stems of the flowers of the garden. A tinge of grace sweeps through me. There’s a saying: “Where there are two doves, there is peace.” With the way my guilt is rocking me, I need that.

Peace.

I’ll never forget the weight lifted from my shoulders when I found Jesse. He’s handsome and confident, but the thing I despise admitting most of all?

His money only attracted me more.

Not in the sense that I wanted him to buy me anything and everything under the sun. But in the sense that I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, I’d never be trapped in another trailer park again.

Nausea bubbles in my stomach. Brant read me like a damn book that night outside The Wild Corral.

Could I really abandon the security I already have?

It’s a repelling question. Disgusting, even.

But this is trauma in its rawest form. I bleed it every single day, until I’m forced to remind myself that I’m safe from those hills.

I’m safe from Daddy.

I’m safe from that life.

When I study the statue more, time retreats. I see us. The younger version. The side of us that was honest and raw. Our vulnerability was our superpower, and I don’t think we ever celebrated it enough.

There aren’t many people who jump at the chance to be transparent or to expose themselves in front of someone. But for Brant and I, we dive into those feelings headfirst. We never stumble to speak what’s on our mind, and we’re not the ones to cower from an argument.

And I guess, maybe there are some things that are truly priceless.

There are times when I feel like a robot, programmed to cater to the people around me. As if my true self will offend them in some way. When I think about all those years of wanting to be right where I’m sitting now, I wonder if my dream had a fault.

I never thought to carry my heart with me—all of my heart.

Physically, I may have, but I forgot.

I broke our promise.

Tension collects in my chest, quiet breaths expelling in a severed rhythm. For so long, I’ve wanted to make it to the other side. Back then, my dreams were of the physical kind. I imagined the places I would go. The nicer places I would live. All the clothes and accessories I would wear when I got here. All these dreams that were valid but cost me a pretty penny.

I’m living out all of those fantasies, but there’s a price I paid for it.

I lost a part of me.

The realization stacks in my heart like a ton of bricks, and I wonder if my two lives can ever co-exist in harmony.

I consider love.

Love between me and the boy who lived across the way. The boy who stretched the same smiles and shed the same tears as me. The boy who knew my soul like it was etched onto the back of his hand. The boy who was able to fuel my resilience with every hug. Every sweet gesture. Every touch. And every kiss.

The boy who made this life possible at all.