Blue (The Spectrum Series: #3)

Chapter Forty-Three

Ten days have gone by in an instant. Ten days of radio silence from Blue. Each day I'm more surprised I've lasted this long without crumbling into a thousand pieces. I never thought I could go ten days without being with him, speaking to him. Before, I found going a few hours without seeing him, even if it's just a glance, was completely imaginable. But it turns out I can go ten long days away from him. Each hour digs deep into me, each worse than the last.

He called and texted me the second I got on the airplane. I planned to ignore every desperate text and pleading voicemail, but after the lady next to me complained, I turned it off. I haven't turned it on, even 'til now. I'm unsure if I will listen to the countless messages flooding my inbox, but I know once I open that Pandora box, there is no turning back. No closing the lid and pretending thousands of bad things escaped. Once I unlock message after message, I'll be pulled right back to where I started: hurt, small, and vulnerable. Which does not usually define me, but when it comes to what I fled from, it's exactly right.

When it came to love, I always had the idea that there was no taking breaks for yourself. You were either with that person you gave your heart too, through and through, giving you all for their sake. And that, if you'd strayed from that person because you need a breather, you were automatically a quitter. You were giving up on that person. Giving up on the idea that, with them, you can find yourself again and find the sanity you desperately need. But I painfully found that wasn't the case. When you are in love and you are bombarded by too much, too fast, and need to get away, breathe, and deal with the possibility of being a part of a serious situation, it is more than fine to go. Not leave. Just find a place to breathe and not blow up into a million pieces.

And, so, that's what I did.

But leaving was a lot harder than I could have ever expected. I love him, of course I do, but I thought I could up and leave any time I wanted to and not feel I'd lost a part of myself. But I felt absolutely lost without Blue. I hate how much I missed him. Missed the raspy sound of his voice. Missed his sarcastic remarks. Missed the relieved smile he made when he holds my hand. Missed the way his lips moved when he talked, and how he talked slowly but confidently, as if every word had meaning, especially when he randomly called me beautiful or reminded me he loved me. I especially missed the feeling of being complete with or without him because I knew wherever I was, he loved me more than anyone could ever be loved.

I didn't want to feel incomplete without him, though. I wanted to be myself, just minus Blue. I wanted to be able to be totally independent and totally fine with it. I didn't want to appear weak because I wasn't with him for ten days; I want to be secure.

I wish I could have stayed and watch everything play out. I didn't want to just walk out without giving him any sort of explanation. But once I heard what I did, and I saw that look of regret and pure panic in his eyes, I couldn't stand around for a second longer. I desperately wanted to listen to one voicemail, open one text and hear him out, but even holding my phone and staring at the background picture of us smiling into the camera—a picture I'd begged him to take with me—brought me pain so overwhelming, it hurt to breathe.

The night I arrived at my home porch steps, having nothing but my purse, a dress that wasn't mine, and eyeliner running down my eyes, I was ashamed. I left here feeling confident and determined to focus on school and dancing. Just months later I was showing up with puffy eyes and crushed dignity. I had half a mind to turn around and find a motel to stay in for the night and sober up, but, as if sensing me, my dad appeared, and his eyes widened in shock and he broke into a smile, but it dropped when he noticed my teary eyes. I sobbed and ran into his arms like a little girl. He threw question after question at me, confused by my lack of suitcases and crying. Why hadn't I told him I changed my mind about spending Thanksgiving in New York and decided to come home. Why I wouldn't do anything but cry. Sensing I wasn't ready to talk, he stopped talking and guided me to my old room. The only reason I fell asleep that night was because he cradled me in his arms half of the night.