It felt the same, but more cruel. And when it happened, my emotions shut down and I went backwards more than a decade. I was that boy again—the fifteen-year-old in the tree, telling the girl I loved that I didn’t want her and didn’t need her.

That it was a game.

My shoulders tense. I’m seeing a vision of the next thirty years. That image of Jessie in the field with her children? In it, her soul mate’s back was turned—is that because I knew all along she’d choose Gavin?

No.

I take a deep breath. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not beholden to old patterns and old emotions.

I’m going to go back, tell Jessie I’m sorry and that I love her. Then I’m keeping my promise and carrying her off to be mine.

The only person who is stopping me from being with her, is me.

I pull out of the lot and make it back to the house. It’s a few minutes past eight. I rush into the house and pause to listen. I hear voices coming from the living room. I hurry toward them.

Gavin is talking with Jessie. He may be my brother and my best friend, but he’s going to have to step aside or we’re going to have problems.

I walk through the arched entry to the living room and come to a sudden stop. Jessie and Gavin are on the couch. Jessie’s face is turned to Gavin’s and she’s speaking passionately. Gavin is completely absorbed in what she’s saying. He reaches out and squeezes her hands, then her face lights up and she throws her arms around him. He holds her.

The breath whooshes out of me. The hollow place in my chest that I thought had been filled expands and starts to swallow me. I feel the coldness come over me—the protective layer I used to keep away the pain of losing the people I love.

I slowly take a quiet step backward, then another, until I’m back in my car and heading south toward NYC.

When I saw Jessie hug Gavin, another thought came to me. That book. The one Jessie showed me with hundreds of soul mates. All of them were happy, married, in love and together for their whole lives.

If I took Jessie and married her, would she regret it two years, ten years, twenty years from now? She may not love Gavin today, but she could in the future. And the love she said she feels for me, it could turn into a cage of resentment and disillusionment.

There’s a saying which I always thought was trite and stupid—if you love someone let them go.

It’s not trite, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.