Bend Me, Break Me (27 page)
Authors: Chelsea M. Cameron
“I miss you. It was real for me, too.” Oh, fuck. Before I knew what I was doing, I was on my feet and sweeping her up into my arms, crushing her into my chest. She made a little squeaking noise, but her arms wound around me and she hugged me back. I inhaled as deeply as I could, filling my lungs with her.
“I never thought I would hear you say that. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve any of it.” People in the shop were staring, but I couldn’t give a flying fuck. I had Ingrid in my arms and I was never going to let go.
She leaned back a little so she could look up into my face.
“You may not deserve it, but you’re getting it. There’s more, though.” Her cheeks filled with color.
“Yeah? What’s that?” And then she said the words that completely stopped my heart.
“I’m also pretty sure I’m falling in love with you.”
Then I cried. I buried my face in her hair and cried and I didn’t care if anyone saw it.
“I don’t know what that says about me, but you were the first good thing in my life after I lost my family and I’ll do whatever I can to keep it,” she said as I tried to hold myself together. I lifted my head.
“Well, that’s good because I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you, too.” That was a little lie. I was in love with her, but it was going to take time for her to trust me. It wasn’t going to be a switch that she could flip. I was going to have to earn my way into her heart.
Somehow, some way, I’d earned a second chance with this incredible girl.
“Is it okay if I kiss you now?” I whispered.
“Yeah, you can kiss me.” I pressed my lips to hers and I could taste my tears as well as her lips. She kissed me back and I wanted to shout for joy.
I pulled back so I could stare at her face and smiled.
“I’m going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, Ing,” I said, brushing her cheeks with my thumbs.
“I’m okay with that, Coen. I’m definitely okay with that.”
I would love to say that after that declaration and kiss, things were like a Disney movie and we rode off into the sunset in a white carriage and lived happily ever after.
But then, that would be another lie.
It was wonderful to have Coen back in my life. He fit right back into the places he’d left and it was right. It was so right.
He worked so hard to get me to trust him again and it was work. I needed reassurance and he often had to sit me down and explain that he wasn’t lying to me about something silly. I knew I was insecure, but I couldn’t help it. He was so patient and never got angry with me about it and slowly, surely, we climbed back onto solid ground.
I became closer with Lacey and she was the one who finally convinced me to try therapy again. I found a group on campus that was for children who had lost their parents and it was good to meet other people who had gone through the same things I had. My demons had plagued me for far too long and it was time to put some of them to rest.
I got better. I started sleeping and went on medication to help regulate my moods. Coen supported me through it all and even came to therapy with me sometimes and held my hand as I talked about how I couldn’t get past my grief over my family and the guilt I felt for surviving.
He took me to meet his mother and the first thing she did was wrap me in a hug and tell me how happy she was that I was there. Coen’s family swept me up into their arms and it was good. It was so good.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was ours. Our story. Our love. Our future.
Coen helped me see the good in the world, like a light in the darkness. He led me back into life and kept me safe when the world was unkind, as it often is. I did the same for him and we forged ahead.
Perfectly imperfect together.
This book is different from any that I’ve written. I knew that when I first envisioned Ingrid. I knew she would be a girl who had suffered unimaginable tragedy and wasn’t handling it very well.
I’ve been honest online about my own struggles with depression. A year ago I was in a very dark place. I couldn’t get out of bed. Or eat. Or do anything but watch television and even that was hard. I slept all the time and didn’t leave my house. It was bad, but I didn’t think I was depressed, because I wasn’t sad. Fortunately, I went to my doctor and he referred me to a therapist and also put me on medication.
This year I’m doing much better. There are good days and bad days, but I’d say the majority are good. Therapy helped so much, but the medication did as well. There is no shame in seeking help if you need it.
This book was not easy for me to write. It took a long time and I wrote it in little pieces and then I’d have to either work on something lighter, or read something sweet to get my head out of it. But I don’t regret writing this book.
This book is different. There’s no sex. There’s lots of pain and darkness and hurt. There are lies and Ingrid forgives Coen for something that I’m sure many of you wouldn’t forgive him for. But that’s not the point.
I wrote this story because I had to. Because I wanted to. I wrote this story for me.
Many thanks go to my editor, formatter (who rocked it at the eleventh hour), publicist, cover designer (who had literally NO guidance and came up with exactly what this book needed), my IRL friends, my online friends and my fellow author friends who are beyond supportive. I’ve reached out so many times to other authors only to discover that they’re going through the same struggles and challenges. We don’t talk enough about how hard this career is. You are not alone.
For anyone who is dealing with hopelessness, depression, or feeling like they can’t continue anymore, I urge you to reach out. To a friend, a family member, someone online. The world is a better place with you in it.
There are also organizations that are there, 24 hours a day
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
:
1-800-273-8255
Chelsea M. Cameron is a YA/NA and Adult New York Times/USA Today Best Selling author from Maine. Lover of things random and ridiculous, Jane Austen/Charlotte and Emily Bronte Fangirl, red velvet cake enthusiast, obsessive tea drinker, vegetarian, former cheerleader and world's worst video gamer.
When not writing, she enjoys watching infomercials, singing in the car and tweeting. She has a degree in journalism from the University of Maine, Orono that she promptly abandoned to write about the people in her own head. More often than not, these people turn out to be just as weird as she is.
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