Through my carefully crafted exterior, it hits me like a ton of bricks.

I’ve been missing a big part of the truth of it all. The one unspoken. Her truth.

I never bothered to ask her version of things—not that I had the chance to. Still. Still.

I listened to two sides of the story, but neither of them was hers. Neither of them came from her mouth.

One came from Kathleen.

The other from Debbie, her mother.

And all that time, it seems Rory was oblivious. Her mail was going to New Jersey.

Sure, there are a few loose ends, but with a crushing weight, I know in my gut that everything I’ve believed all this time was a lie. Everything I believed about her. Rory never set out to destroy me. Rory didn’t know. Her mother was responsible for this. All of this.

Rory didn’t reject me.

She didn’t betray me.

She didn’t hate me for what happened.

What probably never happened at all.

She is still talking, oblivious. Trying to win me over, maybe. She’s playing with the hoop in her nose. Nervous.

God, Rory. God.

The earth under my feet is moving. Things inside of me are shifting, too. This changes everything.

Rory is still pure and good and meant to be mine. And I will make her so. Even if I have to fight Callum and her mother, and the entire village.

Which I will.

(I might have to resume my morning push-ups if I plan on starting a full-blown war with the entire universe.)

She’s craning her neck now, looking for Ashton, oblivious to the life-changing pep talk I’m giving myself in my head. She has no idea that my whole world has transformed in the last minute.

“…moved to Manhattan, from a five-thousand-square-foot house to a five-hundred-square-foot, one-bedroom apartment. Summer put up a bead curtain to divide our makeshift rooms. But let me tell you, it’s awkward when she brings guys back…”

I stop walking.

She stops, too, eventually. It takes her five steps to realize I’m not there with her. She turns around to face me, slanting her head, confused.

All this time.

All this anger.

For nothing.

I want to hug her.

I want to fall down on my knees and ask for her forgiveness.

To cry.

To tell her what happened.

To hide it from her, so she won’t know how awful it has been.

I want to kiss her. Dip my fingers in her long, currently snow white hair. Press my lips between her eyes and thighs and over her beautiful, flawless heart that always beats faster when it’s under my palm. I want to keep her warm. Forever.

“What?” Rory frowns, like a wee child that’s been scolded for nothing. “Why are you looking at me like that?”