Prologue: Thunder Only Happens When It's Raining

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Then ━━━ 2014

            Nestled in the rolling fields of Oklahoma, amidst the sprawling expanse of a ranch, stood a weathered but sturdy barn where a lively celebration was taking place in honor of Brisa Santiago and Tyler Owens graduating from Muskogee State University.

            Late afternoon light filtered through the gaps in the wooden walls, casting a warm, golden glow over the interior. Twinkling fairy lights strung across the rafters overhead, interweaving with graduation banners that fluttered gently with each breeze that slipped through the open doors. The walls were adorned with photographs and memorabilia from Brisa and Tyler's four years spent at college, each one telling a different story. Balloons in the school colors of red and yellow were tied to the ends of long tables laden with an assortment of homemade dishes and desserts: barbecue, freshly baked pies, and more. The centerpiece was a towering graduation cake, frosted in the same red and yellow, with "Congratulations Brisa and Tyler" piped in elegant script.

            An old radio in the corner played a mix of country music, its low hum blending with the sounds of boots crunching against dirt, clinking glasses, and laughter. Friends and family filled the barn, mingling, exchanging stories, and offering congratulations. Children darted between the adults, their giggles echoing as they played tag and hide-and-seek among the hay bales stacked along one side of the barn.

            In the middle of it all was Brisa Santiago, her dark, curly brown hair cascading down her shoulders and the back of the charming cotton eyelet dress she wore, adorned with lace and a thin red ribbon holding the neckline closed. The white dress highlighted her sun-kissed olive skin and hugged her curves in all the right places while remaining mid-length and modest for the occasion. On her feet were her favorite brown cowboy boots, worn and torn; the scuffed leather and frayed edges spoke of the many miles they had traveled from countless storm-chasing adventures to the long nights spent dancing at the local dive bar with her beloved boyfriend.

            Brisa stood with a can of Modelo in hand, the rim coated by the cherry lip gloss on her plump lips. A wide, bright smile lit up her face, her brown eyes sparkling with a joy that went beyond the celebration around her. It was a profound surge of pride and accomplishment that radiated from within, knowing that she had truly made it through against all odds. As a first-generation college graduate, Brisa's journey was anything but easy. Her parents had immigrated from Puerto Rico to Miami in search of a better life, bringing with them dreams of opportunities and a brighter future for their children. They instilled in her the values of hard work, perseverance, and the importance of education, and Brisa had taken their words to heart. She remembered the stories her father told about their struggles, about the sacrifices they made to ensure she and her little brother, Javi, had opportunities they never did.

            From a young age, Brisa was determined to excel not only because of her parents' expectations but also because of her own drive to make them proud and prove her worth. Not wanting to take their sacrifices for granted, she juggled school with part-time jobs, helping her family make ends meet while keeping her grades at the top of her class. Scholarships and financial aid paved her way to Muskogee State University, where she pursued her passion for meteorology and ultimately graduated with honors, all at the age of twenty-two.

            As Brisa stood in the middle of the barn, taking in the celebration around her, she felt a pair of strong arms grab her from behind and lift her off the ground as if she weighed less than a feather. She squealed in surprise, the sound turning into giggles as she recognized Dean Colt's infectious laugh. He spun her around, her beer sloshing out of the can and splattering onto the floor.

            "Dean!" Brisa cried out, letting out a breathy, gleeful chuckle as she playfully swatted at him with her free hand, trying to keep the rest of her drink from spilling in the other. "Put me down, you big goof!"

            Dean's laughter reverberated through his chest; she could feel it as he set her back down gently. "Couldn't help myself!" he defended himself, his Southern drawl prominent in the way he spoke, warm and friendly. "I just had to come congratulate the woman of the hour."

            Brisa adjusted her footing and turned around to look up at him. Dean Colt, at twenty years old, was the epitome of a country boy with a heart of gold and a big smile that never seemed to leave his face. His tousled brown hair and sparkling hazel eyes, paired with his tall, broad-shouldered frame, gave him an endearing, yet rugged charm that everyone adored. He was a fairly big guy with a short temper when provoked, but deep down he was nothing but a sweetheart with a kind soul who loved his mama fiercely. Dean was truly a fun person to be around, always friendly and cracking jokes. Brisa had met Dean two years ago at college, where he was still working towards his degree in veterinary science, driven by his passion to help the animals on his parents' ranch and support the local farmers in the area. But Tyler had known Dean since they were kids, back when Tyler used to compete in bull riding competitions in rodeos across the country.

            Brisa smiled, catching her breath and wiping away a few drops of beer that had managed to spill on her dress. "Thanks, Dean. For everything. I really can't thank you and your folks enough for letting us use the barn for the party. I owe you one."

            Dean was quick to wave off her gratitude with a dismissive hand, shaking his head at her. "Aw, it's nothing. You know my folks love any excuse to throw a party. Besides, we're friends, right?"

            "Right. Still, it means a lot, so thank you," she insisted, raising her beer can up to him as if to toast to his generosity before taking a big swig, the cold liquid sliding down her throat like water.

            As Brisa lowered the can, she saw Caroline Buckley, her best friend, making her way over with two cans of Budweiser.

            Brisa adored Caroline. She was the type of person who truly was beautiful from the inside and out, having a natural charisma that drew people in, matched by her striking good looks. With rich, warm brown skin and sparkling deep brown eyes, Caroline was always glowing. Her short black pixie cut framed her face perfectly, the dark, coily hair soft to the touch, accentuating her strong cheekbones and broad, genuine smile that radiated a welcoming kindness, making everyone feel like they were the most important person in the room.

            "Hey, gorgeous!" Caroline greeted, pulling Brisa into a warm, tight hug. "Congratulations, girl! You look absolutely stunning tonight, as always."

            Brisa returned the hug, feeling the genuine affection in Caroline's embrace. "Thanks, Caroline. You always know how to make a girl feel special."

            Despite her bubbly exterior, Caroline was incredibly talented and brave. She was a twenty-year-old weather photographer who never shied away from a storm. Still working towards her degree in meteorology, just like Brisa and Tyler had, Caroline often tagged along with them when they'd go out chasing storms, her camera always ready to capture the perfect shot.

            Caroline pulled back from the hug and gave Brisa a playful wink. "Honestly, Bri, if I wasn't so head-over-heels for Dean, I'd be all over you in that dress tonight," Caroline teased.

            Brisa laughed, the sound light and sweet as apple pie. "Oh, please, Line. You'd never be able to handle me."

            Dean, who had been watching the exchange with a mock pout, cut in. "Hey now, don't I get any love?" he whined playfully, folding his arms and pretending to sulk.

            Caroline rolled her eyes affectionately and handed one of the beers to Dean, who accepted it with a grin. "Oh, you big baby," she said, pulling the collar of his shirt down to give him a quick peck on the lips. "You know you'll always get my lovin'."

            Dean's grin widened. "That's more like it," he said, pulling Caroline closer, wrapping his arm around her back.

            Caroline glanced back at Brisa, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Besides, Tyler would probably kill me if I stole Bri away from him," she said, nudging Brisa playfully.

            "Where is that son of a bitch anyway?" he asked, his eyes scanning the crowd. "We need to make a toast to you two!"

            Brisa's smile faltered slightly as she glanced around the barn. Truth be told, she had no idea where Tyler was, and it was beginning to gnaw at her. For the entire day, he had been acting strange, distant even. When they had left their apartment after getting ready, he had been uncharacteristically quiet, not saying a single word on the car ride over. The silence had been heavy, suffocating almost, filled with an unspoken tension that made her feel uneasy. Normally, they would be chatting away, laughing, and singing along to their favorite songs blasting from the stereo in his red 1995 Dodge Ram pickup truck, but today felt different.

            When they entered the barn together, she had instinctively reached for his hand, but he had kept his in his pockets, a gesture completely unlike him. He always held her hand, always, even when they would lie in bed at night he'd hold her in his arms, her head resting against his chest, with one hand over his heart. He'd caress her fingers so gently, so lovingly, as if she were a delicate flower with fragile petals. He'd bring her hand up to his lips and with such tender devotion, he'd kiss every knuckle. The absence of his touch left her feeling disconnected, a cold void where warmth usually resided.

            Throughout the short amount of time they had spent at the party, she had barely seen him. He had mingled a bit, exchanged a few polite words with guests, but there was a noticeable distance in his demeanor. She had caught glimpses of him standing on the periphery of the celebration, a shadow of the man who had once been the life of any gathering. He looked tense, his shoulders tight, his jaw set in a hard line. It was as if he was there in body but not in spirit, his mind a million miles away.

            "I'm not sure," Brisa replied, trying to keep the worry out of her voice, though her face betrayed her true feelings. She was always terrible at masking her emotions; she wore her heart on her sleeve and could never really hide what she was truly feeling. "I think he might be outside. But, I'll go find him."

            Caroline's brow furrowed with concern, her eyes softening as she placed a reassuring hand on Brisa's arm. "Hey, are you okay? You look a little worried. Do you want me to come with you?" she offered gently.

            Brisa managed a small, appreciative smile, shaking her head. "No, it's okay. I can handle it."

            "Alright," Caroline said, squeezing Brisa's arm reassuringly before letting go. "We'll be here holding down the fort while you're gone. If you need anything, just holler."

            Dean nodded in agreement, lifting his can of beer. "Yeah, we'll keep the party going. Don't you worry about a thing."

            Brisa nodded, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "Thanks, guys. I'll be back soon."

            She turned and made her way toward the barn doors, her heart pounding a little harder with each step she took. The distant laughter and music from the party faded into the background, replaced by the growing drumbeat of her own anxiety. She tried to reassure herself, taking deep, steady breaths, mentally repeating that there was nothing to worry about.

            Everything was fine.

            Tyler was probably just overwhelmed with everything going on. Graduation was a big deal, and to top it all off, being surrounded by all their friends and family at the party may have been all too much to deal with at once. He probably just needed some air or time to himself to take it all in. But that, too, was so unlike him. Tyler thrived on attention, couldn't get enough of it. His personality bordered on arrogant at times. Hell, that's why, for a big part of his youth, he had loved bull riding and competing in rodeos across the country so much. He adored the crowds of people that would come to see him and cheer him on. He lived for the praise, the glory, the hundreds of eyes on him, and craved the spotlight.

            Brisa remembered one night when they had just started dating, lying in the bed of his truck under a canopy of stars. The night was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze and the distant hum of cicadas. They were nestled together, wrapped in a blanket, Tyler's arm was draped over her shoulder, and she rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. They had been talking about their dreams and fears, the future and the past. Tyler's voice, usually full of confidence and brimming with bravado, took on a softer, more introspective tone. He had casually mentioned that he hated being alone, but his words lingered in the air, betraying his attempt at seeming nonchalant. She had tilted her head to look at him, catching the flicker of melancholy in his green eyes that the moonlight revealed.

            Without hesitation, she had reached out and entwined her fingers with his, squeezing gently, silently promising that he would never have to be alone as long as she was around. They had laid there for hours. Tyler had eventually pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her forehead in a tender kiss, whispering how lucky he felt to have her.

            In those early days, their bond had felt unbreakable. They were each other's confidants, partners in crime, and biggest supporters. The memory of that night, of the promise she had made, was carved into her heart. It was a promise she intended to keep, no matter what. The thought of him struggling alone now, pulling away from her, was almost unbearable.

            Brisa stepped out of the barn was greeted by the heavy air, thick with humidity—the kind that turned her curly hair into a frizzy mane—carrying the earthy scent of rain-soaked soil and fresh grass. The late afternoon light was dim and hazy, the sun obscured by thick, roiling clouds that hung low, painting the sky in shades of deep gray and indigo. The wind had picked up, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees as if they were whispering secrets about the impending storm.

            Brisa felt the first drops of rain, cool and sporadic, hitting her skin like tiny pinpricks. Her steps crunched on the dirt as she made her way toward the row of cars parked beside the barn. Each step seemed to echo in the quiet stillness that had settled over the ranch, the sounds of the party inside now muffled by the thick wooden walls of the barn.

            She scanned the area, her eyes darting between the vehicles and the shadows they cast. The light was fading quickly, the sun inching closer to the horizon. Fiery oranges and reds clashed with the darkening clouds, but Brisa had no time to admire it.

            Brisa walked past a few cars, her eyes searching for the familiar silhouette of Tyler's red truck. Finally, she spotted it near the edge of the lot where she found Tyler leaning against the bumper, his shoulders hunched and his gaze fixed on the horizon, turned slightly away from her. Brisa hesitated for a moment, watching him from a distance. She could see the tension in his posture and the tightness in  his shoulders. A half-empty beer bottle dangled loosely from his fingers, the amber liquid reflecting the stormy sky above.

            Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and called out to him softly, not wanting to startle him as if she were about to poke a bear. "Tyler," she said, her voice barely audible over the wind and distant rumble of thunder. "What are you doing out here? Everyone's waiting for us inside. They're about to make a toast."

            Brisa watched as his shoulders went rigid, his body tensing even more at the sound of her voice. He turned his head slightly, acknowledging her presence but not meeting her eyes. "I needed some air," he replied, his Southern drawl flat—so different from the usual way he spoke to her, always sweet like honey. His words lacked the warmth that usually made her heart flutter and her cheeks flush rosy, replaced now with a chilling detachment that sent a shiver down her spine as if ice had been poured down her back.

            Brisa frowned, eyebrows furrowed, as she stepped closer. "Is everything okay? You've been acting... off all day. Did something happen?"

            Tyler took a long swig of his beer, his gaze drawing back to the horizon, and swallowed hard. The way he held the bottle, his fingers gripping it tightly, made it clear that something was deeply troubling him. He didn't look at her as he answered, "I just have a lot on my mind, Brisa. I need to think about some things."

            Brisa blinked, slightly taken aback. He had called her  Brisa—something he rarely did. He always called her by some sweet nickname like baby, darling, sweetheart, honey, sunshine, beautiful, and the one he used the most, Bambi. He called her Bambi because she had those big,  brown doe eyes with long eyelashes, always wide, gentle, and innocent like a baby deer.

            Hearing her actual name from his lips felt strangely  formal, distant, as if, in that moment, he was pushing her away, deliberately trying to put a barrier between them. It was a small detail, but it struck her hard, making her feel an unexpected pang of fear. Brisa's concern turned into a knot of worry in her stomach.

            "What things?" she asked, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "Talk to me, Tyler. You can always talk to me."

            Tyler looks at her then, actually looking at her for the first time since she came outside, and that's when she sees it. His green eyes, usually vibrant and confident, were now dull and shadowed, the spark that always seemed to dance in them extinguished by a sadness that Brisa had never seen before. There was a deep crease between his brows, and his lips were pressed into a thin line, the corners turned down slightly. His jaw was clenched tight, the muscles twitching with the effort to hold back his emotions.

            "I don't know if I can, Brisa. Not right now," he said, strained as if it were painful to talk to her.

            Brisa felt a pang in her chest, her heart breaking a little at his words. She reached out, grabbing his arm gently. She didn't miss the way he flinched slightly at her touch as if she were burning him. "Why not? What's going on?"

            Tyler shook his head and gently pried her hand off of him, his touch almost reluctant, and began to walk away toward the front door of the truck. "I have to go. I need to clear my head," he muttered, barely audible over the rising wind.

            But Brisa didn't let him get far. She quickly grabbed the edge of his flannel sleeve, pulling him gently back to her and further away from his truck. "What do you gotta think about, huh?" she asked, her voice wavering. Tyler refused to look at her, his gaze fixed stubbornly to the side, staring at the ground as if it held all the answers. She gave his sleeve a little tug, looking up at him desperately as her eyes began to gloss over. "Come here. Please. Just talk to me," she pleaded softly.

            Tyler hesitated, his body tensing again, but he stayed standing right in front of her. He still refused to meet her gaze, his eyes darting everywhere but at her. Brisa's frustration and panic grew with each passing second of his silence. The storm was growing closer around them, the wind howling, whipping her hair into her face and plastering it against her damp skin. She could feel her throat tightening, her lips slightly quivering as the bubbling emotions rose up within her like a tidal wave.

            "Talk to me!"

            "About what?!"

            Brisa flinched at the volume, his voice louder and booming over the rumbling thunder. She let go of his sleeve, stepping back a bit, and she could see the immediate regret in his eyes. He looked at her with guilt, his eyebrows furrowed, and his frown deepened, making him appear more lost and miserable than ever. He looked like a sad dog that didn't mean to bite, and Brisa didn't know what to do. She stood there frozen, confusion and hurt etched on her face.

            Tyler sighed heavily, running a hand through his damp hair. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice breaking. "I didn't mean to yell. I just... I'm going away. I'm leaving back home. And you're staying here to get your PhD. And I'm so happy that you're doing that. You're gonna have a million things to do, you're gonna be doing so many incredible things there, and you got so much ahead of you."

            Brisa shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "Don't talk like that," she begged, her voice trembling, the desperation spilling from her tongue as she struggled to keep her composure. Her heart raced, pounding painfully against her ribcage, feeling as though her bones were about to break, split, and pierce her heart. "You know we've talked about doing long distance. We can make it work. We've always found a way to make things work."

            Tyler's eyes finally met hers. The familiar green that always held such warmth and affection now looked like a stormy sea, turbulent and filled with sorrow. "I don't want to hold you back. You have so much potential, so much to give to the world. You don't need to be worrying about me and trying to make this work when we're miles apart. It's not fair to you."

            Brisa's hands trembled as she took a step closer, her fingers reaching out but hesitating, afraid that if she touched him again, this moment would become real, and the fragile hope she clung to would shatter. "You're not holding me back. You're part of my future, part of everything I want. We can make this work, I know we can."

            Tyler looked down, shaking his head, his golden hair falling into his eyes. "I wish I could believe that," he muttered, the tone of his voice betraying the anguish he was trying so hard to swallow. "I really do."

            Brisa's desperation grew, she could feel herself spiraling as her voice rose, trying to find a solution, any solution to keep him with her. "I don't have to finish school, okay?" she argued, willing to give up anything to keep him in her life because a life without Tyler Owens was a life she couldn't imagine living. She needed him like she needed air.

            Tyler's head snapped up, looking at her as if she were crazy to even consider that as an idea. "Yes, you do!" he shot back, his frustration spilling over.

            "I can move with you!" she countered.

            "No!" he shouted, the force of his words making her flinch again. Tyler took a deep breath, trying to calm himself as he took a step back, putting even more distance between them. "Do you see that? That's exactly what I'm talking about."

            "Then why can't you just stay?" she pleaded, trying to understand why he was doing this.

            The storm intensified around them, the wind roaring louder, the rain coming down in sheets now, soaking through Brisa's dress. The white lacy fabric clung to her like a second skin, chilling her to the bone. She could feel the icy droplets sliding down her skin, but she couldn't bring herself to care about the cold or the storm. Her focus was entirely on Tyler, the man she loved, the man who was breaking her heart.

            "You know why," he said, sounding completely defeated. His voice came out soft and fragile, like a dam about to break and drown them both. "I gotta look after my folks. Gotta work hard and pay them back for getting me through college. You know that."

            He couldn't bear to look at her any longer; she could see it in the way he looked off to the side, avoiding her gaze. "We don't gotta figure all this out tonight, ya know," he tried to break it to her gently, but he just couldn't get himself to say the exact words to rip the bandaid off and get it over with. "We can finish off this summer and see what happens."

            Brisa felt the weight of his words like a physical blow, her knees almost buckling under the strain. "You're saying you wanna break it off?" she whispered, barely audible over the roar of the wind and pouring rain. The words tasted bitter in her mouth, like bile rising from the pit of her stomach. She felt dizzy and nauseous, the world spinning around her as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

            "I'm saying we see how it goes later on," he told her with a shrug of his shoulders, the motion weak and unconvincing. His face was a mask of indifference, but Brisa could see right through him. He couldn't lie to her. They both knew it. She could see it in his eyes, how shattered and broken he looked.

            A deep, raw wail wanted to escape her lips, but she choked it down. She couldn't believe him, couldn't believe any of this. It was as if lightning struck and shocked her to the core. Her mouth let out a shaky breath as she looked away because she knew if she kept on looking at him any longer, she'd break right then and there, her heart made of glass. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to stay calm, trying desperately to keep it together.

            But then, for the first time since she approached him, Tyler reached out to her. She could feel his hand touch her face and cup her cheek so delicately, so lovingly she almost hated him for it. She could feel his fingers trying to coax her back to him, caressing her chin and trailing his fingers up and down her jaw. She opened her eyes and felt his hand brushing one of her loose, wet curls out of her face and behind her ear, returning back to her chin to give a gentle tap before pulling away.

            "Are you breaking up with me?" she asked quietly. If she tried to speak any louder, she'd burst into a wretched sob. She couldn't look at him when she asked, but after a moment, she dared to glance at him once more. He was staring at her then, and she felt so small under his gaze, like a deer caught on train tracks with a bullet train barreling down straight toward her with nowhere to go, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

            And that's when she couldn't take it anymore. The dam of her composure broke, and the tears began to spill, cascading down her cheeks. Her throat felt so tight she could barely breathe, like her lungs were on fire and she herself was about to burst into flames and turn to ash. She looked down, unable to meet his gaze any longer. Her vision blurred as she stared at their boots, the rain mingling with her tears, pooling at their feet. The future she had envisioned with him was slipping through her fingers like sand, leaving her feeling utterly powerless.

            Everything she had ever known and loved was torn apart. She sniffled, lips trembling, the tears spilling uncontrollably. Each droplet felt like a piece of her heart breaking away, and she stood there, shattered and lost, unable to comprehend how everything had gone so wrong so quickly. She wanted to scream, to beg him to stay, to somehow make him understand that they could face anything together. But the words wouldn't come, caught in the tightness of her throat.

            "I don't see how it's gonna work," he told her apologetically. She could hear the guilt in his voice, his heart was eating him alive.

            "Ah, I see," she murmurs, frail and quivering, the sound beyond heart-wrenching.

            Brisa didn't have to look up to know that Tyler couldn't bear the sound of her crying. He had always hated seeing her sad, watching her tears fall. Through her blurred vision, she watched his boots retreat, pulling further and further away from her. When his boots were no longer in her line of sight she looked up, watching his back as he walked towards his truck.

            "Please, don't do this," she begged through sniffles, tears streaming down her freckle-covered cheeks, mixing with the rain. "You don't mean it."

            Tyler's footsteps faltered. He stopped dead in his tracks, the rain pounding down on both of them. But he didn't respond. He didn't look back at her. He stood there for a moment, drenched and unmoving.

            Anger began to boil over in Brisa, a hot rage that ignited within her chest. The sheer helplessness and heartache transformed into a burning fury. How could he stand there, so close yet so distant, without the courage to face her? She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms so hard it almost drew blood. Her pain turned into a fury she couldn't control.

            "Ah hell, just do it, Tyler!" she screamed, rushing up to him as he reached for the truck door. "Don't stand there and make me wait! If you're gonna end it, have the guts to say it to my face!"

            Tyler still wouldn't respond, wouldn't look at her. It was as if he had turned to stone, his back a solid wall. Brisa's anger intensified, her blood boiling. She shoved him hard, her hands pushing against his wet, muscular back, his body barely moving by the force. He stood there, taking her anger, absorbing her pain without a word.

            "Look at me, dammit!" she cried as she shoved him again, her wet hands slipping against his soaked flannel. "Look at me!"

            But he wouldn't. His silence was deafening, and it infuriated her even more. She shoved him again, but he didn't retaliate. No, he continued to stand there, unmoving, taking it all like a coward.

            "Say something!" she screamed, her throat hoarse from crying. "Do something!"

            Tyler listened to her then, turning to face her, his eyes filled with sorrow and regret. His silent plea for understanding only made her more furious as he stared down at her.

            "Don't look at me like that!" she shouted. "Don't you dare look at me like that!"

            She went to shove him again, but he was quick to stop her this time. Tyler dropped the beer bottle he was holding, and it shattered once it hit the ground, pieces scattering around the mud. He reached for her wrists, grabbing them. She squirmed in protest, trying to pull free from his tight grip, but he held on firmly.

            "Let me go!" she cried out, her struggles becoming more frantic. But the more she fought, the more the sobs began to wrack her body. The tears flowed freely now, her anger dissolving into pure heartache and misery.

            "Bambi," he whispered, his grip softening around her wrists. But she couldn't hear him over the sound of her own sobs.

            Brisa's breaths came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving. Her whole world was falling apart, and Tyler's touch was the only thing keeping her grounded, even as it tore her apart. He pulled her closer then, wrapping his arms around her trembling body. She fought against him for a moment longer, but eventually, her strength gave out, and she collapsed into his embrace. Her sobs quieted, and she clung to him desperately, not wanting to let go, not wanting to face the reality of their crumbling relationship.

            Tyler held her tightly, his hands moving in gentle circles on her back, trying to soothe the anguish that wracked her body. His fingers moved up to her hair, smoothing out the damp, tangled curls, brushing them softly away from her face. Every touch was filled with a bittersweet tenderness, a silent apology for the pain he was causing her.

            He took her head in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that continued to stream down her cheeks. For a moment, he simply looked at her, memorizing every detail of her face—the curve of her lips he loved to kiss, the freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks that looked like constellations in the night sky, the way her wet curls clung to her forehead just like after they'd been caught in a summer rainstorm together, the depths of her big brown doe eyes he'd stare into when they'd make sweet love, now filled with the tears that he caused.

            He didn't deserve her.

            He never did.

            He never would.

            Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment as if trying to imprint the memory of her on his lips and convey every single word he couldn't say, a final gesture of his love. She closed her eyes, savoring the fleeting touch.

            Then he was gone.

            Tyler pulled away, his hands slipping from her face. Brisa watched through tear-filled eyes as he turned around and walked to the driver's side of the truck. Each step he took felt like a knife twisting deeper into her heart. He climbed in, started the engine, and with a final, lingering glance, he drove away. The taillights of the truck grew smaller and smaller, eventually fading into the distance, leaving Brisa standing alone in the storm.

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♱ A/N: was this inspired by noah and allie's breakup scene in the notebook? yes, yes it was. did i cry writing out this scene? yes, yes i did. i never expected this fic to turn out so angsty but alas this fic took a life of its own. tyler and brisa's relationship is gonna be a wild ride. there will be fun moments but of course not without those raw, heartache moments. balance! well maybe. there is a lot of angst in the beginning. stay tuned and lemme know what you guys think! xoxo