Promised (The Promised Series)

tell her no, but this isn’t something I can willingly give in to.
    “There’s nothing to understand. I will not give you up without a fight.” Like I predicted, a group of people start trickling in to the little area we’re hiding in to watch the show I’m creating.
    Wiping at her eyes and taking in our audience, Wyn whispers. “Maybe we should go somewhere else.” Reasonable Linc knows she said this because she’s not comfortable being the center of attention, but pissed off Linc is in charge and he has other thoughts.
    “Are you that ashamed of being in love with me, a non-gypsy, that you can’t be seen with me?”
    Her face softens and she sighs. “You know that’s not true.” She surveys the crowd again and then hesitantly gets up and comes closer, placing her palm against my cheek. “You know I love you.”
    “But it’s not enough. Is it?” I ask, grabbing onto the wrist of her hand that’s touching my face.
    “Linc.”
    “You could choose me, Wyn. You could leave that life and him behind.” I pull her closer to me, placing my free hand in her hair.
    “But my family.”
    “You mean the family that’s forcing you to marry a guy you don’t love? Fuck them!” Surprisingly, our audience has stayed extremely quiet during our show. Hell, even the librarian is watching without disrupting us. This is probably better than her favorite romance novel.
    New tears start streaming down Wyn’s face and I release her wrist so I can wipe them away. Then, placing my forehead to hers, I whisper my plea again. “Choose me.”
    “I love you, Linc. And in a perfect world, I would choose you. God knows I want to choose you, but this world isn’t perfect and I can’t. I’d have no one. Nothing. Nowhere to go. I’m not strong enough for that.” She pulls herself out of my hands and grabs her bags off the table, then turns and pushes through the crowd, leaving me alone with my shattered heart.
    I pick up the lamp from the center of the table and with a scream worthy of a Scottish warrior, I throw it against the wall. Once I get started, I can’t stop. I grab everything in my reach and throw them at the wall. The books off the table, the bottle of juice I’d been drinking, my cell phone. I’m on the verge of throwing a chair when arms slip around me from behind, caging me in. I’m trying to fight the person off when he speaks and I relax back into his arms.
    “Calm down, Cuz. I’m here.” Nate. I’ve never been more relieved to hear his voice. He’s one of the few people who could’ve reached me in my angry haze.
    As the anger leaves my body, it leaves me drained and I have to drop to the ground, taking Nate down with me. The tears come not long after I hit the ground and through my heartbreak, I hear Nate promise. “We’ll get you through this.” Then I hear him shouting at the crowd. “The show’s over. Get the hell out of here.”
    Through my tears, I see the librarian crouch down in front of me. She stretches out her hand, offering me a tissue. I shake it off and use the back of my hand to scrub my eyes dry instead.
    “I’m sorry, Lincoln, but you have to go to the principal’s office. I hate doing this after what you just went through, but you destroyed some school items.”
    *****************************
    “Suspended for a week and I have to replace a lamp and several books. Was she worth this?” Mom asks as she turns to me after setting her purse on the kitchen island. The principal called her in after my library meltdown and handed down his sentence. Mom ripped me up one side and down the other in the school parking lot, then told me to drive straight home and she’d meet me there. I knew the ripping would continue when we got home, but I didn’t care. I’m numb. The moment Wyn walked out and left me in that library, it started. And by the time I was wiping the tears from my eyes, I couldn’t feel a thing. I’m numb to everything around me, so getting ripped by my mom isn’t going to hurt me. Nothing will ever hurt me again. You have to have a heart to be hurt. And since mine got torn from my chest today, there’s no fear of me ever being hurt again.
    “I don’t want to talk about it.” I tell her from my seat at the kitchen table. I’m staring out the kitchen window, wondering how the sun can be shinning on a day when my world has crumbled. I can’t discuss Wyn with my mom, not today, maybe never. I may be numb to everything around me, but the pain inside from