Let Love Heal (The Love Series) (22 page)

“What do you mean?” I manage to croak.

“You don’t trust me, Melanie. You never have, but what’s even more difficult to get past is that you don’t trust us. You don’t trust that what we have is enough for me. My God, it was enough. But no matter how many times I told you that, you never believed me.”

“No … I do believe in us. Please, Bryan. Give me a chance to prove it to you. Please, please, please.” I reach for his hand again and when he pulls away from me it’s like I’ve been punched in the gut.

“I can’t, Melanie. I can’t move past this.” He turns his face away from mine, but I grab his stubbled jaw and pull it back to me.

“Please. I’ll do anything. Please don’t leave me. Bryan, believe me. I’m sorry.” I’ve never been sorrier for anything in my entire life.

Bryan reaches up and pulls my hand from his face. When he looks in my eyes, I can see tears shimmering in his, just beneath the anger and pain that hover at the surface. “I can’t, Melanie. I need to be with a girl who loves herself as much as I do. I deserve to be with a girl who is secure enough with who she is that she doesn’t need my constant reassurances.” His hands clench into fists and his knuckles turn white under the pressure. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t have enough faith in
us
and in
herself
to get through a rough patch. I’m sorry, Melanie, but I just can’t.”

And on his last words, he stands from the couch and picks my jacket up from the chair that he tossed it on when I walked in over an hour ago. As I turn to step into it, I realize that his small dining room table is romantically set for two. The take-out menu for Bella’s restaurant is out next to the phone and there are unlit candles everywhere. Bryan tracks my stare and shrugs his shoulders and mumbles, “I was going to surprise you with an early Valentine’s Day dinner.”

Any last hope I had of leaving here without being completely and utterly broken, have now been annihilated.

I reach for the knob and feel an icy blast slap me in the face as I open the door. I hear the jangle of Bryan’s car keys, but the thought of being next to him as he drives me home is more than I can bear.

I reach for the hand in which he’s holding his keys and stare up into his eyes. “No. I’ll walk.” He nods and drops his keys onto the small side table.

Stepping over the threshold, I look at him one last time as the words, “I’m sorry” get stuck in my throat.

Bryan looks at me with pain in his eyes as he says, “Goodbye, Melanie.”

I do nothing but stare numbly as he closes the door on me. My heart splinters into a million tiny fragments when I hear the lock click. He’s gone from my life forever and I know that I’ve been irrevocably changed by what just happened.

They say that when one door closes, another one opens, but I think they’re lying.

“Melanie! Wake up, girl. You’re going to miss your midterm. Come on.” Peyton’s not-so-gentle wake-up call includes yelling in my ear and shaking me somewhat violently. “Let’s go, Melanie. If you don’t get your ass out of bed right now, I’m going to get the ice water … again.”

I lamely roll to my side and face her. Glaring at her from under my forearm,which is draped across my face, I give her the side-eye. “You wouldn’t.”

Her face lights up playfully. “Oh, but I would. Let’s go.”

Instead of getting out of bed, I roll back over and face the wall. Grumbling incoherent nonsense at Peyton’s craziness, I don’t even hear her leave the room.

But when the freezing cold water comes splashing down on me, I know that she’s returned. “What the freak! I can’t believe you just did that!” I screech as I jump out of my now drenched bed.

“Well, I did.” She stands with her hands on her hips sticking her tongue out at me. “I’ve had enough of this moping around and not-doing-shit business. You haven’t done much of anything these last six weeks and I can pretty much guarantee you that if
I
didn’t wake
you
up, you’d be missing another midterm.” She rolls her eyes at me as I stand before her wringing out my soaked pajama shirt.

“Fine. I’m up. Are you happy now?” I snap sarcastically.

“Thrilled, actually. Now get your ass out of here in the next ten minutes and I’ll be ecstatic,” she bites back as she starts tapping the face of her watch. When she stalks out of the room and closes the door behind her, I flip her off.

As I get ready for my last midterm before spring break, I think back over the last six weeks and realize that Peyton is not entirely wrong. I have been in a funk. Well, actually to call it a funk is quite an understatement. My grades have slipped. My attitude sucks. I’m angry most of the time, and when I’m not angry, I’m depressed. The real kicker is that the only person to be blamed for all of this is me.

Bryan’s words about not being able to love myself and of not having enough faith in who I am as a person repeat on a continuous loop in my head. And, in these last six weeks, I have replayed the last eighteen years of my life through the lens of those words.

Did I not have many friends in middle school because the kids were mean? Or was it because I was just too insecure to meet new people? Was the reason I didn’t date in high school because no one was interested? Or was it because I would never let anyone close enough because I was so afraid to show them the real me? Is my complete inability to receive a compliment a result of me not feeling that way about myself in the first place?

I’ve been so open and loving to all of the important people in my life – my mom, Maddy and even Reid in a weird brother-sister kind of way. I’m always there whenever anyone else needs me, but it’s possible that I’ve left out one very important person – me.

Why can’t I love myself the way I love my friends and family? Why can’t I see myself the way that they see me?

Why can’t I see me the way Bryan saw me?

Lost in my world of what-ifs, I don’t realize that my ten minutes to get ready is coming to a close. When Peyton starts banging on the door, I call out, “Okay. Okay. I’m coming.”

I grab my bag and head out the door telling Peyton that I’ll be back around noon. She’s driving me home today for spring break. Since Elmira is on her way, she offered to bring me home. I didn’t want my mom to have to deal with the inconvenience, so I took Peyton up on her generosity.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been such an inconvenience to Mom, anyway. Maybe
I
just see myself as an inconvenience.

Maybe it is time to stop seeing myself as worthless. Maybe it is time to start seeing the value in myself.

Maybe.

My mini pep talk helps to lift my spirits a little, and as I settle into my desk for my mid-term, I catch a glimmer of hope dangling out in the horizon.

As I step out onto the quad after my exam, I breathe in the cool spring air and feel rejuvenated in a way. Walking back to the suite, I think over my mid-term and I feel okay about it. I don’t think I aced it, but I doubt that I failed it. Laughing at myself, I realize that how I feel about my test is rather appropriate for how I feel about my life too.

I’m sort of stuck in this hazy, grey, no-man’s-land. I’m not moving forward, not fixing anything. I simply exist. I haven’t bothered talking to Bryan since we broke up. There’d be no point. I even resigned from the computer lab right after we broke up. Being around him almost every day was just going to be utter torture for both of us, so to be fair to him, I left.

As I walk past a tree under which Bryan and I often had lunch together last fall, I see new leaves springing to life. This winter was harsh in more ways than one. The snow and cold were unbearable at times as was the emptiness that grew in my chest. As April rolls in, the weather is warming slightly. As the sun is shining a bit more often, I wonder if it’s time for me to change too.

Regardless of whether or not my future holds a chance with Bryan, like he said, I need to fix me for me. And if this newer and better version of Melanie has even a sliver of hope to get Bryan back, then that’ll just be the icing on the cake.

This transformation isn’t going to happen overnight; of that much I’m sure. Scary though it may be, it’s a change that I know will be for the better.

“What’s up with you?” Peyton chirps across the cabin of her small black sedan.

“Huh? What do you mean?” I twist toward her, genuinely confused by her question.

She huffs at me and leans her elbow on the door as she turns to face me as well. “You’ve been a real lump lately. And now today, you’re actually smiling. That’s after I dowsed you with water, too. So, what’s up with that?”

I shrug my shoulders and answer a non-committal, “I don’t know.”

I already told her about Bryan. There’s only so much crying you can do in front of someone else before they call you out on it and make you talk. She was pretty great about it too. Nothing was sugarcoated in “everything will be okay and he’ll take you back tomorrow” frosting. No, in true Peyton fashion, she told me that the whole situation sucked ass and that she hoped I could be happy again soon.

“Oh, cut the shit, come on. We’ve got an hour or so to kill on this car ride, so talk. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” She reaches across and pats my head with this big dopey grin on her face. I can’t help but laugh at her.

I roll my eyes and give in. It’ll be one hell of a long hour with her bugging me like this. “I was just thinking about something that Bryan said to me. He told me that I needed to learn how to love myself, that part of the reason he couldn’t be with me was because I didn’t have enough faith in who
I
am to be able to have faith in our relationship.” I shrug my shoulders again and straighten in my seat. “I’m just thinking he might be right.”

As she changes the station on the radio, she doesn’t say anything, but she seems like she’s lost in thought. When she settles on some 80s rock station, she stares out of the front window and avoids my eyes.

“I think he’s right too,” she says softly. “I know we’re not super close or anything like that, but from what I see, I have to agree with Bryan. Hell, I’ve tried to get to know you better in the last few months, but you’re always on guard, always concerned about what I’m going to think about you or say to you.” Awkwardness stretches between us before she adds, “I think you’re pretty cool, Melanie, but what I think doesn’t matter. Your opinion of yourself is the most important one out there. And I can tell that you don’t regard yourself all that highly.” She faces me again and says, “Maybe if you stop worrying about the Melanie that you think everyone else sees, you’ll grow to love the Melanie who is already there.”

There it is again –
maybe.

“You’re right, Peyton,” I sigh and inwardly yell at myself for wasting so much time hating who I am. “I’ve compared myself to other people for too long. But I’m not them; I’m me.” Staring back out the window, watching the world pass me by, I mutter, “Now, I just have to figure out who
me
is.”