A Thousand Boy Kisses
: Chapter 7

Poppy

I flexed one hand, balancing my cello and bow with the other. Every now and again, my fingers grew numb and I had to wait to be able to play again. But as Michael Brown finished up his violin solo, I knew nothing would deter me from sitting center stage tonight. I would play my piece. And I’d savor every second of creating the music I loved so much.

Michael drew back his bow, and the audience burst into rapturous applause. He took a quick bow and exited on the other side of the stage.

The emcee grabbed the mic and announced my name. When the audience heard I was making my long-overdue return, their clapping grew louder, welcoming me back to the musical fold.

My heart raced in excitement at the whistles and support from parents and friends in the auditorium. As many of my peers from the orchestra came to the wings to pat me on the back and wish me words of encouragement, I had to chase back a lump in my throat.

Straightening my shoulders, I forced back the overwhelming onslaught of emotion. I tipped my head to the audience as I walked to take my seat. The spotlight above rained bright light on me.

I positioned myself perfectly, waiting until the clapping died down. As always, I glanced up and found my family sitting proudly in the third row. My mama and daddy were smiling widely. Both sisters gave me little waves.

Smiling back to show them I had seen them, I fought against the slight pain that fluttered in my chest as I spotted Mr. and Mrs. Kristiansen sitting alongside them, Alton waving at me too.

The only person missing was Rune.

I hadn’t performed in two years. And before that, he never missed one of my recitals. Even if he had to travel, he was at every single one, camera in hand, smiling his crooked half-smile when our eyes connected in the dark.

Clearing my throat, I closed my eyes as I placed my fingers on the neck of the cello and brought the bow to the string. I counted to four in my head and began the challenging Prelude from Bach’s Cello Suites. It was one of my favorite pieces to play—the intricacy of the melody, the fast pace of the bow work and the perfect tenor sound that echoed around the auditorium.

Each time I sat on this seat, I let the music flow through my veins. I let the melody pour from my heart, and I imagined sitting center stage at Carnegie Hall—my ultimate dream. I imagined the audience sitting before me: people who, like me, lived for the sound of a single perfect note, who thrilled to be carried away on a journey of sound. They felt the music in their hearts and its magic in their souls.

My body swayed to the rhythm, at the change in tempo and the final crescendo … but best of all, I forgot the numbness in my fingertips. For a brief moment, I forgot it all.

As the final note rang in the air, I lifted my bow from the vibrating string and, tipping my head back, slowly opened my eyes. I blinked against the bright light, a smile pulling on my lips in the solace of that silent moment when the note faded to nothing, before the applause of the audience began. That sweet, sweet moment when the adrenalin of the music made you feel so alive you felt you could conquer the world, that you had achieved serenity in its purest form.

And then, the applause began, breaking the spell. Lowering my head, I smiled as I rose from the seat, bowing my head in thanks.

As I gripped the neck of my cello, my eyes automatically searched for my family. Then my eyes traveled along the cheering patrons, and skirted along the back wall. At first, I didn’t realize what I was seeing. But as my heart slammed against my chest, my eyes were drawn to the very left of the far wall. I caught sight of long blond hair disappearing through the exit door … a tall, toned boy dressed all in black, vanishing from sight. But not before he glanced over his shoulder one last time, and I caught a glimpse of crystal-blue eyes…

My lips parted in shock, but before I could be sure what I was witnessing, the boy was gone, leaving behind a slowly closing door.

Was it…? Would he…?

No, I tried to convince myself, firmly. It couldn’t have been Rune. There was no way he would have come to this.

He hated me.

The memory of his cold blue stare in the school hallway confirmed my thoughts—I was simply wishing for things that couldn’t possibly be real.

With a final bow, I walked off the stage. I listened to the three remaining performers, then left through the backstage door, only to replace my family and Rune’s family waiting for me.

My thirteen-year-old sister, Savannah, was the first to see me. “Pops!” she shouted and ran to me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

“Hey y’all,” I replied and squeezed her in return. The next second, Ida, now eleven, was hugging me too. I squeezed them back as tightly as I could. When they drew back, their eyes were shining. I playfully tilted my head. “Hey now, no crying, remember?”

Savannah laughed and Ida nodded her head. They released me. My mama and daddy both took their turn in telling me how proud they were.

Finally, I turned to Mr. and Mrs. Kristiansen. A sudden wave of nerves crashed through me. This would be the first time I had spoken to them since they had returned from Oslo.

“Poppy,” Mrs. Kristiansen said softly and held out her arms. I walked to the woman who had been a second mother to me and fell into her embrace. She held me close and kissed my head. “I’ve missed you, darling,” she said, her accent sounding stronger than I remembered.

My mind drifted to Rune. I wondered if his accent was stronger too.

As Mrs. Kristiansen let me go, I chased this idle thought away. Mr. Kristiansen hugged me next. When I pulled away, I saw little Alton gripping tightly onto Mr. Kristiansen’s legs. I bent down. Alton ducked his head down shyly, glimpsing up at me through the thick strands of his long hair.

“Hey, baby,” I said, tickling his side. “Do you remember me?”

Alton stared at me for the longest time, before shaking his head.

I laughed. “You lived right next door to me. Sometimes you would come to the park with me and Rune or, if it was a good day, to the blossom grove!”

I had spoken Rune’s name without conscious thought, but it reminded myself and everyone around me that Rune and I had once been inseparable. A silence descended on the group.

Feeling an ache in my chest, the kind I got when I fiercely missed my mamaw, I stood up and glanced away from the sympathetic stares. I was about to change the subject, when something pulled on the bottom of my dress.

When I looked down, Alton’s big blue eyes were fixed on my face. I ran my hand over his soft hair. “Hey Alton, you okay?”

Alton’s cheeks flushed, but he asked in his sweet voice, “You are friends with Rune?”

That same ache from a moment ago flared, and I cast a panicked look around our families. Rune’s mamma winced. I didn’t know what to say. Alton pulled on my dress again, waiting for an answer.

Sighing, I kneeled down and said sadly, “He was my very best friend in the whole wide world.” I pressed my hand over my chest. “And I loved him with my whole heart, every single inch of it.” Leaning in closer, I whispered through a thick throat, “And I always will.”

My stomach flipped. Those words were the very truth from my soul, and no matter how Rune and I were now, I would forever hold him in my heart.

“Rune …” Alton suddenly spoke up. “Rune … spoke to you?”

I laughed. “Of course, sweetie. He spoke to me all the time. All of his secrets. We talked about everything.”

Alton looked back at his daddy and his little eyebrows drew together, etching a scowl on his cute face. “He spoke to Poppy, Pappa?”

Rune’s pappa nodded his head. “He did, Alton. Poppy was his best friend. He loved her completely.”

Alton’s eyes became impossibly wide and he turned back to me. His bottom lip trembled.

“What’s wrong, baby?” I asked, rubbing his arm.

Alton sniffed. “Rune doesn’t talk to me.” My heart sank. Because Rune adored Alton; he had always looked after him, played with him. Alton adored Rune. He admired his big brother so much.

“He ignores me,” Alton said, his cracked voice breaking my heart. Alton watched me. He watched me with an intensity that I’d only ever experienced from one other person—the older brother who ignored him. He placed his hand on my arm and asked, “Can you speak to him? Can you ask him to speak to me? If you’re his best friend, then he’ll listen to you.”

My heart fell to pieces. I looked over Alton’s head at his mamma and pappa, then at mine. They all appeared hurt by Alton’s stark revelation.

When I turned to Alton again, he was still staring, willing me to help. “I would, sweetie,” I said softly, “but he doesn’t speak to me now either.”

I could see Alton’s hope deflate like a balloon. I kissed his head, then he ran back to his mamma. Clearly seeing I was hurting, my daddy quickly changed the subject. He turned to Mr. Kristiansen and invited the Kristiansen family for drinks at our house tomorrow night. I stepped away from them all, drawing in a deep breath as my eyes stared blankly across the parking lot.

The sound of a car engine revving snapped me from my trance. I turned in that direction. I lost all the breath in my lungs when, in the distance, I saw a long-haired blond boy jump into the front seat of a black Camaro.

A black Camaro that belonged to Deacon Jacobs, Rune’s best friend.

* * *

I looked in the mirror and admired my outfit. My sky-blue skater dress hung to mid thigh, my bobbed brown hair was pulled up at the side with a white bow, and I wore black ballet flats on my feet.

Reaching for my jewelry box, I pulled out my favorite silver earrings and slipped them into my lobes. They were infinity signs. Rune had given them to me for my fourteenth birthday.

I wore them at every opportunity.

Grabbing my cropped denim jacket, I hurried out of my bedroom and out into the cool night. Jorie had texted me that she was outside. As I climbed into the front seat of her mama’s truck, I turned to face my best friend. She was smiling at me.

“Poppy, you look so freakin’ cute,” she remarked. I ran my hands down my dress, smoothing out the skirt.

“Is it okay?” I asked, worried. “I didn’t really know what to wear.”

Jorie batted her hand in front of her face as she pulled out of the driveway. “It’s fine.”

I checked out what she was wearing. Jorie was dressed in a black sleeveless dress and biker boots. She was definitely edgier than me, but I was thankful that our outfits were not poles apart.

“So,” she began, as we left my street, “how was the recital?”

“Good,” I said evasively.

Jorie glanced at me cautiously. “And how are you feeling?”

I rolled my eyes. “Jorie, I’m good. Please, just let me be. You’re as bad as my mama.”

Jorie, seemingly stuck for words for once, stuck out her tongue. And just like that, she made me laugh again.

For the remainder of the ride, Jorie filled me in on the gossip that had circled the school about why I’d been gone. I smiled in all the right places and nodded my head at the parts she expected me to, but I wasn’t really interested. I never much cared for all the drama that happened at school.

I heard the party before I saw it. Shouting and loud music blasted out of Deacon’s house and down the street. His parents were on a short vacation, and in the small town of Blossom Grove that meant one thing: house party.

As we parked near the house, we could see kids spilling out onto the front yard. I swallowed back my nerves. I stayed close behind Jorie as we crossed the street.

Gripping onto her arm, I asked, “Are house parties always this crazy?”

Jorie laughed. “Yeah.” She linked my arm with hers and pulled me forward.

When we entered the house, I flinched at how loud the music was. As we pushed our way through the rooms to the kitchen, drunken students staggered by, forcing me to grip onto Jorie until I was convinced I’d be causing her physical pain.

Jorie glanced back at me and laughed. When at last we reached the kitchen, I immediately relaxed on seeing Ruby standing with Deacon. The kitchen was much quieter than the rooms we had struggled through.

“Poppy!” Ruby declared and crossed the kitchen to pull me into her arms. “Do you want a drink?”

“Just a soda,” I replied; Ruby frowned.

“Poppy!” she admonished. “You need a real drink.”

I laughed at her horrified expression. “Ruby, thanks, but I’ll stick to soda.”

“Boo!” Ruby cried, but threw her arm around my neck and led me to the drinks.

“Pops,” Deacon greeted, as a text came through on his cell.

“Hey, Deek,” I replied and took the diet soda Ruby had poured me. Ruby and Jorie led me to the backyard, to the fire pit blazing in the center of the lawn. Surprisingly not many people were out here, which suited me just fine.

It wasn’t long before Deacon pulled Ruby back to the party inside, leaving me alone with Jorie. I was staring into the flames, when Jorie said, “I’m sorry about putting my big ole’ foot in my mouth yesterday about Rune. It hurt you, I saw it. Lordy! I just don’t always think before I open my big trap! My daddy’s threatening to have it wired shut!” Jorie pushed her hands over her mouth in a mock struggle. “I can’t, Pops! This mouth, uncontrollable as it is, is all I’ve got!”

Laughing, I shook my head. “It’s alright, Jor. I knew you didn’t mean it. You’d never hurt me.”

Jorie dropped her hands from her mouth, her head tipped to the side. “Seriously though, Pops. What do you think of Rune? You know, since he’s been back?”

Jorie was watching me curiously. I shrugged. Jorie rolled her eyes. “You’re telling me you have no opinion about how the great love of your life looks, now he’s older and, in my opinion, beyond smokin’ hot!”

My stomach churned and I played with the plastic Solo cup in my hands. Shrugging, I replied, “He’s just as handsome as he ever was.”

Jorie smirked behind her cup as she took a drink, then she grimaced when we heard the voice of Avery drifting out from inside the house. Jorie lowered her cup. “Ugh, looks like the whore’s in the house.”

I smiled at the level of disgust on Jorie’s face. “Is she really that bad?” I asked. “Is she actually a whore?”

Jorie sighed. “Not really, I just hate how she flirts with all the guys.”

Ah, I thought, knowing exactly who she was referring to. “Anyone in particular?” I teased, and watched Jorie scowl in response. “Judson, perhaps?” I added, prompting Jorie to throw her empty cup my way.

I laughed as it flew past me in completely the wrong direction. When my laughter had died down, Jorie said, “At least now Rune’s back she seems to have backed off Jud, anyway.” My good humor evaporated. When Jorie realized what she’d just said, she groaned in exasperation at herself, and moved quickly to sit beside me and take hold of my hand. “Crap, Pops. I’m so sorry. I did it again! I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” I interrupted.

But Jorie tightened her grip on my hand. Moments of silence passed by. “Do you regret it, Pops? Do you ever regret cutting him off like that?”

I stared at the fire, lost in the roaring flames, and answered honestly, “Every single day.”

“Poppy,” Jorie whispered sadly.

I threw her a weak smile. “I miss him, Jor. You have no idea how much. But I couldn’t tell him what was happening. I couldn’t do that to him. Better he believed that I was no longer interested, than to tell him the ugly truth.” Jorie laid her head on my shoulder. I sighed. “If he had known, he would have tried everything in his power to come back. But that wouldn’t have been possible. His daddy’s job was there in Oslo. And I …” I sucked in a breath. “And I wanted him to be happy. I knew that, in time, he’d get past not hearing from me. But I know Rune, Jor; he would never have gotten past the alternative.”

Jorie lifted her head and kissed my cheek, which made me laugh. But I could still see the sadness on Jorie’s face as she asked, “And now? Now he’s back, what will you do? Eventually, everyone else will replace out.”

Inhaling deeply, I replied, “I’m hoping they won’t, Jor. I’m not popular at school like you, Ruby and Rune. If I simply disappear again, no one will notice.” I shook my head. “And I doubt the Rune who came home would care anymore. I saw him in the hallway again yesterday, and the look he gave me showed me how he feels. I’m nothing to him now.”

An awkward silence followed until my best friend ventured, “But you love him just as much. Am I right?”

I didn’t reply. But my lack of response was as loud as a scream.

I did. I still loved him, the same as always.

A loud crash came from the front yard, shattering the intensity of our conversation. I realized a couple of hours must have passed since we arrived. Jorie got to her feet and grimaced. “Pops, I need to pee! Come inside?”

I laughed at Jorie dancing on the spot and followed her inside. Jorie pushed her way through to the bathroom at the back of the house. I waited for her in the hallway, until I heard Ruby and Deacon’s voices drifting from the den.

Deciding to go and sit with them while I waited for Jorie, I opened the door and stepped inside. I was barely three steps in when I regretted ever coming to this party. Three couches dominated the small room. Ruby and Deacon occupied one, Judson and some of the football team sprawled over another. But it was the third couch I couldn’t tear my eyes off. No matter how much I commanded my feet to move, they refused.

Avery was sitting on the couch, drinking from her cup. An arm was around her shoulders. Avery was tracing patterns on the hand that was hanging over her chest.

I knew what that hand felt like.

I knew how it felt to be under the protective shelter of that arm.

And I felt my heart shatter as I moved my eyes to the boy who sat by her side. As if feeling the heavy weight of my stare, he looked up. His hand stopped, drink halfway to his mouth.

Tears filled my eyes.

Understanding Rune would have moved on from me was hard enough to bear; seeing him like this brought another level of pain that I never ever thought was possible.

“Poppy? Are you okay?” Ruby’s concerned voice suddenly rang across the room, forcing me to break away from the car crash I was witnessing.

Forcing a smile toward Ruby, I whispered, “Yes. I’m fine.”

Feeling my legs shake from the unwanted attention of everyone in the room, I managed to step away toward the door. But as I did, I saw Avery turn in toward Rune.

Turn in for a kiss.

As the final part of my heart broke, I turned and fled the room before I could witness that kiss. I pushed into the hallway and ran to the nearest room I could replace. Frantically turning the handle, I pushed through into the semi-darkness of a laundry room.

I slammed the door and leaned against the washer, unable to keep myself from bending at the waist and letting the tears pour. I fought back the sickness rising up my throat as I desperately fought to wipe the offensive image from my head.

During these past two years, I thought I’d endured all facets of pain. But I was wrong. I was so wrong. Because nothing could compare with the pain of seeing the one you love in the arms of another.

Nothing could compare to a promised lip’s betrayal of a kiss.

My hands clutched at my stomach. As I fought to drag in a much-needed breath, the handle of the door began to turn.

“Don’t! Go away—” I had started to shout, but before I could turn and force the door shut, someone pushed through, slamming the door in their wake.

My heart raced when I realized I was trapped in this room with someone else. But when I turned around and saw who had entered, all the blood drained from my face. I staggered back until my back hit the wall beside the washer.

The flames from the fire pit outside illuminated the dark room, enough that I could clearly see who had invaded my moment of weakness.

The same boy who caused it.

Rune stood before me, beside the closed door. Reaching out, he flipped the lock. I swallowed as his face turned back to look at me. His jaw was tense and his blue eyes were firmly fixed on me. His stare was ice-cold.

My mouth went dry. Rune took a step forward, his tall, broad body closing in on me. The pounding of my heart swept the blood through my veins, its heady sound roaring in my ears.

As he approached, my eyes lowered to take in Rune’s mostly bare arms: his toned, lean muscles were corded by the tension from his balled fists, the black t-shirt showcased his firm torso, his smooth skin still retained the tint of a fading tan. In the signature move that always brought me to my knees, he lifted a hand and raked back his hair from his face.

Swallowing hard, I tried to replace the courage to push past him and run away. But Rune walked forward until there was no way out for me—I was trapped.

My eyes were wide as he focused on me. Rune moved forward until we were merely inches apart. This close, I could feel the heat radiating from his body. This close, I could smell his cool scent: the one that always brought me comfort, the one that took me back to lazy summer days spent in the blossom grove. The one that brought back, in full Technicolor, that final night, when we’d made love.

I felt my cheeks flood with heat as he leaned in close. I smelled the faint hint of tobacco on his clothes, and a trace of spearmint on his warm breath. My fingers twitched at my sides as I gazed at the stubble on his jaw and chin. I wanted to reach out and touch it. Truthfully, I yearned to raise my hand and run a finger over his forehead, down his cheeks, and across his perfect lips.

But as soon as I thought of those lips, the pain sliced back through my heart. I turned my head, closing my eyes. He had touched Avery with those lips.

He had broken me by giving away those lips—those lips were supposed to be mine forever.

I felt him close in, until our chests almost brushed. I felt his arms rise over my head, landing on the wall above me, crowding every inch of my personal space. And I felt strands of his long hair drift across my cheek.

Rune’s breathing was labored, his minty breath ghosting across my face. I squeezed my eyes even tighter. I felt him so impossibly close. But it was no use; of their own accord and ruled by my heart, my eyes slowly opened and I turned my head, our gazes crashing together.

My breath caught in my throat as the shadows from the fire outside flickered over his face. Then my breathing seemed to stop entirely when one of his hands moved from above my head, traveling hesitantly down to stroke over my hair. As soon as I felt him take a strand between his fingers, shivers broke out over my body and butterflies swooped around my stomach.

I sensed he wasn’t faring any better; deep exhales and the tensing of his jaw were clear giveaways. I stared at his handsome face as he studied mine, both of us taking in the effects of the last two years: the changes, yet better still, the aspects that were completely familiar.

Then, when I wasn’t sure my confused heart could take any more, his gentle touch left the safety of my hair to drift onto my face, and pass feather-light fingers over the apples of my cheeks. His fingers stopped, as he whispered one word, one emotionally packed word, in the most painfully desperate, graveled voice…: “Poppymin.”

A teardrop escaped from my eye and splashed onto his hand.

Poppymin.

Rune’s perfect name for me.

My Poppy.

His girl.

For infinity.

Forever always.

A lump clawed its rapid way up my throat as that sweet word sailed into my ears, piercing my soul. I tried in earnest to chase it down to join the rest of the pain of the last two years, but overpowered and totally defeated, I could not, and a long-caged sob slipped out.

With Rune so close, I never stood a chance.

As the loud cry escaped my lips, Rune’s eyes lost their coldness and softened to shine with unshed tears. His head tipped forward, and he pressed his forehead to mine, bringing his fingers down to press over my lips.

I breathed.

He breathed.

And, against my better judgment, I let myself pretend that the last two years had never happened. I let myself pretend that he hadn’t moved away. That I hadn’t had to move too. That all the pain and the suffering had never been felt. And the bottomless black void that had replaced my heart was filled with light—the brightest light possible.

Rune’s love. His touch and his kisses.

But this wasn’t our reality. Someone banged at the laundry room door, and reality came crashing back, like a storm-whipped wave dropping on to a rain-lashed beach.

“Rune? Are you in there?” a female voice called, a voice I recognized as Avery’s.

Rune’s eyes flew open as Avery’s knocking grew louder. He immediately drew back, watching me. Lifting my hand, I wiped at my tears. “Please … just let me go.”

I tried to sound confident. I wanted to say more. But I had nothing left within me. No strength to keep up this pretense.

I was hurt.

It was written on my face for all to see.

Placing my hand on Rune’s hard chest, I pushed him away, needing to get out. He let me move him from my path, only to grip my hand in his just before I reached the door. I closed my eyes, trying to gather the strength to turn to him again. When I did, more tears fell.

Rune was staring at our joined hands, his long dark-blond lashes almost black with restrained tears.

“Rune,” I whispered. His eyes snapped up at the sound of my voice. “Please,” I begged, as Avery knocked again.

He held on tighter.

“Rune?” Avery called, louder. “I know you’re in there.”

I took a step closer to Rune. He watched my every move with a deep intensity. As I reached his chest, I looked up, allowing his hand to keep its hold on mine. I met his eyes, recognizing the confusion on his face, and lifted up onto my tiptoes.

I brought my free hand to his mouth and ran the pads of my fingers over his full bottom lip. I smiled with sadness, remembering how they felt pressed against mine. I traced his defined cupid’s bow, letting the tears fall as I said, “It killed me when I cut you off, Rune. It killed me not knowing what you were doing on the other side of the Atlantic.” I inhaled shakily. “But nothing has ever hurt me like seeing you kiss that girl.”

Rune paled, his cheeks becoming ashen. I shook my head. “I have no right to be jealous. This is all my fault. Everything, I know that. Yet I’m so jealous, so hurt, that I feel like I could die from this pain.” I lowered my hand from his mouth. Looking up at him, begging with my eyes, I added, “So, please … please let me go. I can’t be here, not right now.”

Rune didn’t move. I could see the shock on his face. Using this to my advantage, I pulled my hand from his and immediately unlocked the door. Without looking back or taking time to pause, I burst through, pushing past Avery who was waiting, angrily, in the hallway.

And I ran. I ran past Ruby and Jorie, past Deacon and Judson, who had all gathered in the hallway to watch the unfolding drama. I ran through the many students drunk on their feet. I ran until I burst out the door into the cool night air. And then I ran again. I simply ran as fast as I could, as far away from Rune as I could manage.

“Rune!” I heard a high-pitched voice shrill in the distance, followed by a male voice, which added, “Where’re you going, man? Rune!” But I didn’t let it deter me. Taking a sharp right, I saw the entrance to the park. It was dark, and the park wasn’t well-lit, but it was the shortcut home.

Right now I’d give anything to be home.

The gate was open. I let my feet lead the way over the dark tree-lined path, carrying me deeper into the center of the park.

My breathing was labored. My feet hurt as the soles pounded the hard asphalt through my ballet flats. I turned left, heading for the blossom grove, when I heard footsteps behind me.

Suddenly frightened, I turned my head. Rune was sprinting after me. My heart raced faster, but this time it had nothing to do with exertion, and everything to do with that look of determination on Rune’s face. Rapidly, Rune was gaining on me.

I ran for a few more yards, then I realized it was no use. As I entered the blossom grove, a place I knew so well—a place he knew so well—I slowed to a walk, finally bringing myself to a complete stop.

A moment later, I heard Rune enter the grove of empty trees. I heard his hard breath hammering the cool air.

I felt him move behind me.

Slowly, I spun on my heel and faced Rune. Both hands were in his hair, gripping the strands. His blue eyes were haunted, tortured. The air around us crackled with tension as we stared at one another, in silence, chests heaving, cheeks flushed.

Then Rune’s gaze dropped to my lips and he inched forward. He took two steps and bit out a single, harsh question: “Why?”

He ground his teeth together as he waited for my answer. I dropped my gaze, tears filling my eyes. I shook my head, and begged, “Please … don’t…”

Rune ran his hand down his face. That stubborn expression I knew so well spread across his features. “No! God, Poppy. Why? Why did you do it?”

I was momentarily distracted by the thickness of his accent, a raspier husk in his already low, graveled voice. As a child, over the years here his Norwegian accent had diminished some. But now, his English was overlain by a heavy Nordic edge. It reminded me of the day we met outside his house, aged five.

But as I saw his face redden with anger, I was quickly reminded that right now that didn’t matter. We weren’t five anymore. Nothing was innocent. Too much had happened.

And I still couldn’t tell him.

“Poppy,” he insisted, his voice rising in volume, as he stepped even closer. “Why the hell did you do it? Why did you never call me back? Why did you all move? Where the hell have you been? What the hell happened?”

Rune began to pace, his muscles bunching under his t-shirt. A cold wind blew through the grove and he raked back his hair. Stopping dead, he faced me and spat out, “You promised. You promised me that you’d wait for me to come back. Everything was fine, until one day I called and you didn’t answer. I called and I called, but you never replied. Not a text, nothing!”

He moved until his booted feet were right against mine, towering over me. “Tell me! Tell me right now.” His skin was mottled with the redness born of his anger. “I deserve to goddamn know!”

I flinched at the aggression in his voice. Flinched at the venom in his words. Flinched at the stranger standing before me.

The old Rune would never have spoken to me like this. But then I reminded myself this wasn’t the Rune of old.

“I-I can’t,” I stuttered, barely above a whisper. Lifting my eyes, I saw the incredulous look on his face. “Please, Rune,” I begged, “Don’t push this. Just leave it.” I swallowed, then forced myself to say, “Leave us … leave us in the past. We should move on.”

Rune’s head snapped back as though I had punched him.

Then he laughed. He laughed, but the sound held no humor. It was laced with fury, coated with rage.

Rune stepped one pace backward. His hands shook at his sides and he laughed one more time. Icily, he demanded, “Tell me.”

I shook my head, trying to protest. He lifted his hands to his hair in frustration. “Tell me,” he repeated. His voice had lowered an octave and radiated menace.

This time I didn’t shake my head. Sadness had rendered me motionless. Sadness at seeing Rune like this. He was always quiet and withdrawn. His mamma had told me on more than one occasion that Rune had always been a sullen child. She had always feared he would give her trouble. She had told me that his innate predisposition had been to snap at people and to keep himself to himself. Even as a child she noticed an air of moodiness about him, his inclination to be negative instead of positive.

But then he found you, she said. He found you. You taught him, through your words and actions, that life didn’t always have to be so serious. That life was to be lived. That life was one great adventure, to be lived well and to the full.

His mamma had been right all along.

I realized, as I watched the darkness exude from this boy, that this was the Rune Mrs. Kristiansen had expected—no, feared—he would become. This was the innate moodiness she knew was harbored below the surface of her son.

A predilection to darkness, not light.

Staying quiet, I decided to turn away. To leave Rune alone with his rage.

Moonbeam hearts and sunshine smiles. I ran my mamaw’s mantra through my head. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to repel the pain trying to flood in. Tried to stave off this ache in my chest, the ache that told me what I didn’t want to believe.

That I had done this to Rune.

I made to move forward, to leave, self-preservation seizing control. As I did, I felt desperate fingers wrap around my wrist and spin me back around.

Rune’s pupils had all but consumed his crystal-blue irises. “No! Stand right here. Stand right here and tell me.” He took in a long breath, and, losing all control, he shouted, “Tell me why the hell you left me all alone!”

This time, his anger was unbounded. This time, his hard words contained the force of a slap to the face. The blossom grove before me blurred; it took me a while to realize that it was my tears clouding my vision.

A tear fell to my cheek. Rune’s dark gaze didn’t waver.

“Who are you?” I whispered. I shook my head as Rune continued to stare, a slight tightening at the corner of his eyes the only evidence that my words had any effect. “Who are you right now?” I glanced down at his fingers, still around my wrist. Feeling my throat close, I said, “Where is the boy I love?” Risking one more look at his face, I whispered, “Where is my Rune?”

Suddenly, Rune ripped his fingers from my arm as though my skin was scalding to the touch. A nasty laugh spilled from his lips as he stared me down. His hand lifted to delicately smooth down my hair—a contradictory softness in the gesture compared to the venom with which he spoke. “You want to know where that boy went?” I swallowed as he searched every part of my face—every feature but my eyes. “You want to know where your Rune went?” His lip curled in disgust. As if my Rune was someone unworthy. As if my Rune wasn’t worth all the love that I had for him.

Leaning in, he met my eyes, his stare so severe that shivers darted down my spine. Harshly, he whispered, “That Rune died when you left him all alone.” I tried to turn away, but Rune jumped in my path, making it impossible to escape his scathing cruelty. I dragged in a hurt breath, but Rune wasn’t done. I could see in his eyes that he was far from done.

“I waited for you,” he said. “I waited and waited for you to call, to explain. I called everyone I knew back here, trying to replace you. But you’d vanished. Gone to care for some sick aunt I know doesn’t exist. Your daddy wouldn’t talk to me when I tried; you all blocked me out.” His lips tightened as he relived the pain. I saw it. I saw it in his every move, his every word; he had been transported back to that painful place.

“I told myself to be patient, that you would explain everything in time. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, I stopped waiting with hope. Instead, I let in the pain. I let in the darkness that you created. As a year came and went, and my letters and messages went unanswered, I let the pain take hold of me until there was nothing left of the old Rune. Because I couldn’t look in the mirror one more day, couldn’t walk in the shoes of that Rune for one more damn day. Because that was the Rune that had you. That Rune was the Rune that had Poppymin. That Rune was the one with a full heart. Your half and mine. But your half abandoned me. It left, and allowed what I have now to take root. Darkness. Pain. A shitload of anger.”

Rune leaned in until his breath washed over my face. “You made me like this, Poppy. The Rune you knew died when you turned into a bitch and broke every promise you ever made.”

I staggered backward, unbalanced by his words. His words that were like bullets to my heart. Rune watched me without showing guilt. I saw no sympathy in his glare. Just the cold, hard truth.

He meant every word.

Then, taking a lead from him, I let anger take hold. I handed the reins to all the anger I felt. I rushed forward and pushed at Rune’s hard chest. Not expecting him to move, I was surprised when he fell back a single step, before quickly regaining his ground.

But I didn’t stop.

I flew at him again, hot tears streaming down my face. I pushed and I pushed at his chest. Firmly grounded, Rune didn’t budge. So I struck out. A sob escaped from my mouth as I hit at his torso, the muscles bunching beneath his t-shirt as I released everything that had built up inside me.

“I hate you!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “I hate you for this! I hate this person you are now! I hate him, I hate you!” I choked on my screams and I stumbled backward, exhausted.

Seeing his glare still firmly aimed at me, I used the very last drop of my energy to shout, “I was saving you!” I breathed deeply for a few moments, then added, quietly, “I was saving you, Rune! I was saving you from the pain. I was saving you from feeling helpless, like everyone else I loved.”

Rune’s dark-blond eyebrows became a hard line over his eyes. Confusion distorted his beautiful face.

I stepped back one more time. “Because I couldn’t see you, couldn’t bear the thought of you seeing what was going to happen to me. I couldn’t bear to do it to you when you were so far away.” Sobs left my throat. So many sobs that my chest began to wheeze through exertion.

I coughed, clearing my throat and moving forward to where Rune was standing still, like a statue. Laying my hand over my heart, I said in a croaked voice, “I had to fight. I had to give it my all. I had to try. And I wanted you along with me more than you could ever imagine.” My wet lashes began to dry in the cool breeze. “You would have dropped everything to try to get to me. You already hated your parents, hated your life in Oslo; I could hear it every time we spoke. You had grown so bitter. How could you have ever possibly coped with this?”

My head throbbed, a pounding headache taking hold.

I needed to leave. I needed to leave it all. I backed away. Rune remained deathly still. I wasn’t even sure he had blinked.

“I need to go, Rune.” I gripped onto my chest, knowing that the last piece of me would break with what I said next. “Let’s just leave this here, in the blossom grove we loved so much. Let us end whatever we had … whatever we were.” My voice had almost faded to nothing, but with a final push, I whispered, “I’ll stay away from you. You stay away from me. We’ll finally put us to rest. Because it has to be this way.” I ducked my eyes, not wanting to see the hurt in Rune’s eyes. “I can’t bear all the pain.” I laughed weakly.

“I need moonbeam hearts and sunshine smiles.” I smiled to myself. “It’s what’s keeping me going. I won’t stop believing in a beautiful world. I won’t let it break me.” I forced myself to look at Rune. “And I won’t be the cause of any more hurt for you.”

As I turned my head, I saw a fissure of agony fracture Rune’s expression. But I didn’t stall. I ran. I ran fast, just managing to pass my favorite tree when Rune grabbed my arm and swung me around again.

“What?” he demanded. “What the hell are you talking about?” He was breathing harshly. “You just explained nothing! You spout about saving me and sparing me. But from what? What did you think I couldn’t handle?”

“Rune, please,” I begged and pushed him away. He was on me in a flash, hands on my shoulders, anchoring me in place.

“Answer me!” he shouted.

I pushed from him again. “Let me go!” My heart raced with trepidation. My skin prickled with goosebumps. I turned to go again, but his hands held me still. I struggled and struggled, trying to get away, for once trying to flee the tree whose shelter always brought me solace.

“Let me go!” I shouted again.

Rune leaned in. “No, tell me. Explain yourself!” he shouted back.

“Rune—”

“Explain!” he shouted, cutting me off.

I shook my head faster, trying, to no avail, to escape. “Please! Please!” I begged.

“Poppy!”

“NO!”

“EXPLAIN!”

“I’M DYING!” I screamed into the silent grove, unable to take it anymore. “I’m dying,” I added breathlessly. “I’m … dying…”

As I clutched my chest, trying to catch my breath, the enormity of what I’d done slowly filtered into my brain. My heart pounded. It pounded from the onslaught of panic. It pounded and raced with the terrifying knowledge of what I’d just admitted … of what I’d just confessed.

I continued to stare at the ground. Somewhere in my brain, it registered that Rune’s hands had frozen on my shoulders. As I felt the heat from his palms, I also realized that they were shaking. I heard his breath, dragging and labored.

I forced myself to raise my gaze and lock on to Rune’s. His eyes were wide and racked with pain.

At that moment, I hated myself. Because that look in his eyes, that haunted, gutting stare, was the reason I had broken my promise to him two years ago.

It was why I’d had to set him free.

As it turned out, I had only imprisoned him with bars of rage instead.

“Poppy…,” he whispered, accent heavy, as his face paled to the whitest of white.

“I have Hodgkin lymphoma. It’s advanced. And it’s terminal.” My voice trembled as I added, “I have a matter of months left to live, Rune. There’s nothing anyone can do.”

I waited. I waited to see what Rune had to say, but he said nothing. Instead, he backed away. His eyes traveled over my face, searching for any sign of deception. When none was found, he shook his head. A soundless “no” left his mouth. Then he ran. He turned his back on me, and he ran.

It was many minutes before I found the strength to move.

It was ten minutes after that when I walked through the door of my house, where my mama and daddy were sitting with the Kristiansens.

But it was only seconds after seeing me when my mama rushed to where I stood, and I fell into her arms.

Where I broke my heart for the heart I’d just broken.

The one I’d always strived to save.