Page 2 of Dirty Hearts

He’d always leave a single white rose on Marissa’s grave. Always before anybody else came. Ma and Pa would bring dahlias. I’d bring lilies. The pink Calla lilies Marissa had loved so much.

The minute I saw the rose, I knew he’d been here, and I knew he still was. My parents and I got here an hour ago. Like always, I’d asked for time alone. Time to grieve and talk to my sister. But admittedly, I wanted this time to feel him too.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that. I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t accept the truth of the matter.

His presence was so strong, he could have been standing before me.

And there was the confliction that would always fill my soul.

What was I supposed to think after the last time?

What was I supposed to feel?

Nothing?

It was simple. I knew the answer was simple. I needed to forget. That was it. Forget.

A person couldn’t keep living in the past. Worse when all the memories were just figments of what my heart wanted.

Forget everything and move on. Not just from four years ago when Claudius and I had last seen each other.

It needed to be the whole thing. The whole damn thing from start to finish.

Us, before him and Marissa.

Forget it like it never happened.

I needed to forget him. It was making me feel like a hypocrite.

How was I supposed to grieve for my sister and at the same time fight the inner turmoil that roiled within me for her husband?

It sounded like a colossal mess.

One damn mess that no one could really fix. I looked around for him, and my stupid heart betrayed me as I thought of last time.

* * *

Last time was a mistake. I shouldn’t have…

I just shouldn’t have gone there again with her, but I did. I didn’t regret it. I just hated that I fell prey to my selfishness. It made the situation so much worse and confusing.

More confusing for her.

More painful for me.

I didn’t know how I stayed away for so long, but it was for the best. It was torture to see her, torture to be with her, torture to think that we could be more than we were right now.

She should hate me.

She should at the very least hate me because it was my fault her sister died. Everyone could tell me I shouldn’t blame myself, but it was my fault.

Four years ago, I was selfish. I changed things up and made the situation messier than it already was. I needed to stay away from her.

* * *

I hated what happened, and I should hate him for crushing my heart.

But mostly, I wished he wouldn’t stay away.