I was desperately hurt. The pain in my body was the least of my aches. Marlo had come home a couple hours after me and she must have noticed my bruised face because she'd woken me from sleep and demanded I tell her what happened. I cried in her arms just like she'd cried in mine after being dumped at the bottom of the hill by the man who'd taken her virginity and discarded her. Physically, the boy who had taken my virginity hadn't hurt me, and I wasn't crying for the pain in my face anyway. I was crying for the pain in my heart. The minutes ticked by that weekend. I stayed holed up in my trailer, jumping at every sound, hoping against hope it was Kyland. But after that first morning, he didn't come back, and I didn't go to him. He had made his choice clear, and although we'd gotten closer physically, for him it hadn't changed his resolve. In his mind, he'd already left. Somehow I understood that. And it broke my heart.
