Page 88 of What He Always Knew

I lived the day, and to anyone around me, it would have seemed like I was fine.

But inside, I was burning.

I was caught in the flames of the fire I had started, the one I’d wanted to warm me, now slowly killing me, instead. Both Cameron and Reese were my oxygen, but as much as they cleansed my lungs, they also fueled the fire. It was a deadly circle, a never-ending cycle of torture, and to stop it, I had to jump through the hottest part of the fire.

This was it.

My mind was made up, and my heart, too. Still, I knew I would feel the scars I was about to leave just as much as the man I’d mark them with.

Jane Austen once wrote that to love is to burn, and I never knew the true meaning of that until the very moment I singed my heart with the love I had for two men at once. I wasn’t supposed to love them both, and some would say it wasn’t possible, but I was living proof that it was.

Love had shown me a new side, one more painful than I could have ever imagined, and yet the promise of a beautiful, happy life lay just on the other side of the flames.

All that was left to do now was jump.

Left or right.

It was as simple as that, except it wasn’t simple at all.

If I went left, the road would eventually lead me to the house on the east side of Mount Lebanon — to the man I promised my life to, the one I’d imagined building a family with, the one who’d done everything in his power to try to keep me.

If I went right, the road would take me to a house not so familiar — to the man I used to only know as a boy, the man who came back unannounced, the man I loved first, before I even knew what love was.

I’d spent the evening up on the Incline, watching the sun set over the city as I worked through what I had to do, and now I was back in my car, back on the road that I knew I’d always eventually drive on. The tears I’d fought back had finally come, and now, I was convinced I didn’t have any more to shed. They were all dried on my face, inky lines of mascara marring each cheek like scars.

I was at the fork I knew I’d eventually get to all along, the decision I never wanted to make between two choices I never knew I had before two months ago.

The truth was simple.

I loved them both.

My heart was forever severed, destined to exist in two equal halves — one with each man.

One half of me would forever be with Cameron, with the man I’d vowed to let hold me as his own until our last breaths. One half of my heart belonged to his quiet, loving heart, to the home we’d built together, to the promises we’d made in our youth — the ones we’d solidified as we grew together.

The other half would always be with Reese, with the man who was never supposed to come back, the one who shook up my entire life when he did. One half of my heart belonged to his loud, passionate love, to the music we’d made, to the sins we’d committed knowing in our hearts they were right even when they felt wrong.

Yes, my heart was severed, and I accepted that as my new truth.

But one half beat stronger.

One half had the vein that ran deepest, the love that spoke loudest, and one half held my choice in silence well before I ever admitted it out loud.

The other half would always be a part of me, but in a softer way — a more subdued beating, a quieter presence, a different kind of life support.

A different kind of love.

My chest ached with the realization of what I had to do, of the words I had to say, the heart I had to break. Though the snow had cleared and spring was beginning to paint the earth green all around me, I still felt the harsh bite of winter nipping at my heels as I fled from it — from the cold, from the hurt, to a new beginning, to a new me.

Left or right.

It may not have been a simple choice, but I knew with every beat of my severed heart it was the right one.

So, I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and turned the wheel.

Cameron

In my heart, I always felt that Charlie would come back to me.