My phone rings, interrupting the music that’s playing through my headphones. It’s the band I saw play with Conor, which I’m listening to while wearing the shirt that he gave me.
Most masochists have nothing on me.
I pull my phone out of my jacket pocket, my steps slowing when I see Landon’s name. I’m almost to the stone cathedral that’s my destination anyway. My finger taps the green button as I stop jogging altogether.
“Hey, Landon.” I force as much cheer into my voice as I can, but it sounds flat even to my own ears.
“Happy New Year!”
“Yeah, thanks. You too.” Even flatter.
“How’s it going over there?”
“It’s great.” I glance around at the green grass and the gravel path. At the huge church that looks like it was plucked out of medieval times up ahead. “I’ll send some more photos soon.”
I texted the Garrisons when I landed in Dublin, but we’ve barely spoken since. I know they’re worried about me. Caught the concerned looks when they saw the circles under my eyes and noticed I was wearing nothing but sweatpants.
I’m sad and depressed.
Being in Ireland has helped a little. I’ve seen family I haven’t in years, gone to museums and markets and done lots of running. My aunts arranged for us to take a day trip to the Cliffs of Moher, which is one of the most stunning sights I’ve ever witnessed.
But no matter what I do, where I go, there’s still this gaping hole in my chest.
I’m running out of time away. In two days, I’ll be back in Washington. In a few weeks, I’ll be back on campus. And whoever said time heals wounds was wrong, because my heart is still broken. It’s looking more and more likely I’ll have to face Conor while still being very much in love with him.
“We booked another gig,” Landon tells me. “Not until early March, but still something.”
“That’s great, Landon. Congrats.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“I’ve been doing a lot of running here,” I tell him. “Out on a run right now, actually. We should go together, once I’m back.”
“Sounds good.”
There’s a long pause, where it seems like Landon is searching for something to say and I can’t come up with anything to contribute. Lately, I’ve been at a loss. Like a void, absorbing but not giving.
“Well, I should—”
“I went to Zeke Ledger’s New Year’s Eve party.”
I’m silent.
“You were right about the bathroom, by the way. Weird space.”
Still, I say nothing.
“He looked like shit. Left alone, before midnight.”
My inhale is sharp and surprised. Not only by the update, but that he’s bothering to tell me.
“See you when you get back, Harlow.”
“Bye, Landon.”
I hang up, shove my phone in my pocket, and then decide I can make it farther than the cathedral.
