The Truth about Heartbreak (The Truth About #1)

by B. Celeste

Nothing but skin. That’s what he said he wanted between us.

Less than twelve hours ago I belonged to the minty eyed boy I’ve loved since I was thirteen. But Everett Tucker isn’t mine to love.

“Everett,” I whisper brokenly, my heart shattering inside my chest. I can feel the pieces splintering apart as I choke out my final words. “We made a mistake.”

The only thing worth sitting through is English, which most people dread. Not just because Ms. Perkins is a hard ass, but because the material is usually dry. Me? I prefer the subject. I’m one of the few.

Some pasts aren’t meant to be dwelled on. Too many bad memories that have no chance of mending.

I’ve always loved love stories. Mostly because they give me hope. It’s why I sneak books and devour the romance, waiting for my time to be swept off my feet and into the arms of a knight in shining armor. It’s cheesy, really cheesy, but it’s what keeps me going when I just want to stop. Stop feeling, stop hoping, stop wishing. I say, “I’d like that,” because I would. I’d like that a lot.

I don’t hide the curve of my downward lips before Everett sees them. His eyes fill with sympathy. “Don’t worry, River. You’re still my number one.”

I know better than to read into what he said. They’re just words and words mean nothing. Actions on the other hand? Actions mean everything.

“Plus,” Oliver adds, “We wouldn’t have adopted you if she didn’t decide to be selfless enough to give you away.”

It doesn’t matter if we see who Isabel really is, Everett obviously doesn’t. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that people need to find out for themselves who’s worth investing time in.

It’s easy to comprehend someone who resembles yourself. I can empathize with him, even if our situations are completely different.

What I do know is that I like the way she shakes for me. I love how her eyes close and her breath changes and her cheeks color into the prettiest shade of pink I’ve seen on a woman. I want to tell her it’s not just her, that I feel it too. But I don’t. I never do.

We haven’t been the same since she asked me to take her virginity, since I punched Asher Wilks for taking it, or since I saw her marred body. We’ll never be the same. After all, there was no peanut butter on her lip.

The mistake is me not realizing what I could have had all along. The mistake is me. Always me.

She can regret it all she wants, but I don’t. Not one second of it. The only thing I regret is how she feels now that we crossed the line. I’ll cross it again if she’ll let me.

“Art has a way of being the very thing we need to cope with life.”

Art is the only way to run without actually leaving. So, I paint. I draw. I sketch. I mold. I let my brain, my heart, and my soul do the talking, the running.

I’m affected by him, even when I shouldn’t be. Always when I shouldn’t be.

Art can’t fix what we’ve broken.

If he thinks I’m doing this because I want to, he knows the difference now. I’m doing this because I have to. For the both of us. He doesn’t say one word as he turns on his heel and walks out. He doesn’t slam open the door or bang it closed. Externally, he’s poised, together, calm. Internally, I know him better than that. He’s facing as much turmoil as me; burning, breaking, pleading. When he’s finally gone, I allow myself to speak the words he didn’t need to hear. “I miss you, too.”

Issy can give me her body, her opinion, and her attitude, but not even she can give me her heart. I think she’s stopped trying. Deep down, she knows I don’t want it.

The charm is silver like her other one and the chain, but this one signifies more than she can ever know. Next to the paint brush and painter’s pallet I know rest between her breasts is a broken heart, split right down the middle with a jagged line. My heart. Because this is as close as I can ever get to giving it to her.

River James will always be mine, even if she doesn’t want to be. Even if she can’t be.

“Is that what it’ll take? Reminding you that we screwed up? That we’re never going to be whole? You know why I want you pissed, Everett? Because then I’ll know you care. That you feel something.”

“Why doesn’t anything I say make you react anymore?” Finally, I say, “They’re just words.” She shakes her head, moving away from me and toward the bedroom. “Well you should really think about that, Everett. Because they shouldn’t just be anything.”

Everett isn’t a bad person, but what transpired between us is horrible. It grates on me that I still have feelings for him that tingle and flutter if he’s around or if someone says his name. I tell myself it’s my body’s way of remembering what transpired between us, a natural reaction. But it’s not.

That’s what true love is—making sacrifices and changes for the other person.

Everett and I aren’t black and white. We’re technicolor, too blinding to sort through.

He deserves to be happy, but I don’t think he feels the same way. And if I were him, maybe I’d think it too. Even if he decided to be happy, that doesn’t mean he’d choose me.

“Bridgeport just doesn’t have what I need, you know?” I don’t know, because Bridgeport has the very thing I need and it’s sitting across from me right now.

“It seems like you’re just as lost as me. Sometimes I wonder if we’re too much alike, trying to find our ways in this heinous world. But then I think how stupid I’m being, because we’re nothing alike. You have friends. You have a girlfriend. You have a nice apartment, a great job, money, and a future. What do I have? A crush on somebody who I can’t be with. Who isn’t mine to have feelings for, but the very person I can never get enough of.”

After all, Everett makes choices every day to stay with her. The glaring truth is that he’ll always pick her, whether he believes I’m his or not.

I don’t like not talking to Everett. But keeping quiet seems like the logical option. If I do what Isabel asks, I risk losing him forever. If I don’t … well, the fantasy lasts. But so does the guilt.

And therein lies the problem. For one night, for less than twelve hours, I had Everett Tucker. I felt his smooth skin and his hard edges and his gentle touches and demanding kisses. One night would never be enough. But it will have to be.

Even if my brain tells me to stay away from him, my body … I’ve never been able to control my reaction to him.

“You’ve loved him forever, River. The important thing is that you acknowledge when to cut your losses.”

Isabel Allen has been Everett’s since they were teenagers. I was naïve to think I could love him from afar, like it wouldn’t matter to me that he stayed with her.

“You won’t have them forever,” she promises, brushing my damp cheeks with the pad of her thumb. “Sometimes the conscious mind lets the bad break through when we’re most vulnerable. Be strong, Rhett boy. Like I know you are.”

“We’re both going to be happy one day.” It’s a new promise, one I can keep without it poisoning me like the one tattooed under my skin.

“I don’t hate you, Everett.” She shakes her head, brushing back what little pieces of hair escape her ponytail. “It would be so much easier if I did, but I can’t. I can’t … stop holding onto whatever there is here, and I know it’s wrong.”

The broken heart is unconventional, but beautiful all the same because, in a way, I know what it represents. Or, what I want it to. That he’s mine, even the deepest, most shattered part of him.

“I should have told you yes all of those years ago,” he whispers, his fingers skimming my neck. “I should have showed you what it’s like to be loved the right way.”

Everett Tucker doesn’t have to break my heart, because I broke it myself by loving him. It’s funny how the heart can still hurt over something it has expected all along. But I guess that’s not entirely true. The truth about heartbreak is that there is no such thing. It’s your soul that shatters, along with every fiber of your being that screams for another person.

Gripping the wall leading to the hallway, I make eye contact one final time with the man I’ve held on to since I was thirteen. The man I’ve depended on and trusted and crushed on and loved—loved achingly, desperately, and completely. Our love has brought nothing but pain, to a place where I’m considered the other woman. I’ll never be the one he puts a ring on, who he shares his bed with, we won’t have children and grow old together, because ten years ago he made the choice to do all those things with her.

“Don’t say that, baby.” “I’m not your baby.” Sniffing back tears, I blow out a shaky breath. My chest hurts. It’s as though my ribs have caved in from all the pressure and misery and hurt. Before spinning around and locking myself away, I whisper, “But I could have been.”

Expression is the best way to deal with things beyond us.”

And change is good, it’s important.

Betty is right, my parents would both want me to be happy more, and I’d like to think some promises are worth amending if it means getting there.

“Let me ask you something, son. What’s the real reason you’re letting go of Isabel?” My lips part and hands withdraw from the globe. “What do you mean?” His shoulders raise. “It could be as simple as what you say; that you want her to be happy. I don’t doubt that for a second. But anyone who dedicates ten years to a person must have a bigger reason than that.” I’m in love with your daughter.

“Thought so. I know you didn’t ask for any advice, but you’re like a son to me, so I’m going to give it to you anyway. Whoever you truly love needs to wait until you can give her every piece of you. It won’t be fair to you, her, or Isabel if you offer what you have now, because that isn’t much. Love … it’s a precious thing. If you feel like you’ve found the real deal, then I’ll stand behind you in any way possible. Just do me a favor.” Emotion crackles my words. “What?” “Treat her well.”