I heard gasps and muffled whispering, as I ran back down the path, and into the house where I had gotten ready. I threw my veil down, grabbed my car keys and ran to my car. I didn't know where I was going. I didn't know why my brain was refusing to function right now. I couldn't think straight with the image of Kennedy's face etched into my brain. I hurt him, more than I have ever hurt anyone ever before. He would never forgive me for this. He should never forgive me for this.

It was too late to take it back now. I couldn't walk my way back down that aisle and say, "Oh, Just kidding." I ruined the future we had prepared for. I ruined the life we had built. I ruined one of the best things that had ever happened to me.

For what, you might ask.

Pride.

The thought of relying on someone to be there for you through everything in your life, it's too much. I started at a young age, pushing the people closest to me away. I can't tell you exactly when it started, and I don't know when it would end. He more than likely would have wound up leaving me anyway. He would find someone better than me and leave me. Do the hurting before you get hurt. That should be my life motto. Did I actually believe that Kennedy would leave me? No, I didn't. It's hard to explain the love we had for each other. We would give up everything in our whole lives just to be with the other one. That was the problem. We needed each other too much. I tried to warn him on the phone the other night. I wasn't ready for this. We are both only twenty-two. There is so much more I want to do in my life before I settle down. Finish college, being the major thing. I felt like a horrible person, living in the house he bought, contributing nothing. I was in school. I didn't have a job. He paid for everything. I bit my tongue when he wrote that check for the house payment every single month. He always said that money never mattered to him, and I believe that. He wasn't in The Maine for the money or the fame. I loved that about him. I just wanted to pull my weight in the relationship. He wasn't getting money or sex from me, not that sex was payment, by any means. All that he got from me was love. He said that was all he really needed. He told me that every single day. He was different than most guys. Sitting in my car thinking about all of this, made me realize how stupid I was.

My car wound up parked to a beat up white truck. I rested my forehead on the steering wheel, willing my tears to dry up. They didn't. Why was I here? This wouldn't solve anything. This would make things worse. I lifted my head, about to put the car in reverse when I saw him. He was standing at the bed of his truck, a confused look on his face. He was still packing his stuff up, running away from Tempe. No, that's not right. He loved Tempe. He was running away from me. I shut the car off, wishing I had paid more attention when I was driving. He walked over and opened my door, offering me his hand. To say he was shocked to see me there in my wedding dress was an understatement. He didn't say anything though, he just led me into the house, and into the kitchen to fix me a grown up drink. He had to dig through some boxes to find the glasses. It made me even more sad to see that his life was packed away in all of these boxes. He was leaving because of me. He was leaving because I chose Kennedy.

"Aren't you supposed to be getting married right now?" he asked, looking at the clock on the wall. I just nodded, and took another sip of my drink. Yes, I was supposed to be getting married right now. My perfect wedding, at the perfect place, with the perfect dress, and the perfect flowers. Our guest list was ridiculous. Our friends from many bands were in attendance. My best friends in the world were there. Minus John and Justin. My wedding was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, but it wasn't. I had to fuck up. It's what I did best.

"Fast ceremony?" he asked, even though he knew his house would be the last place I would come to. Honeymoon in Europe, that wasn't happening anymore. I shook my head and stared at my hands.

"No ceremony," I sighed. "I couldn't do it."

"Why not?" he asked, taking a seat on the stool next to me.

"I'm selfish," I confessed.

"Why do you think you are selfish?" he asked.

"I just want to live my life before I get married. Kennedy is amazing, and he deserves better than me. He deserves someone who doesn't walk halfway down the aisle at their wedding and then turn around and run."

"You seriously left him at the altar? Fuck, Peyton." John shook his head. "If you didn't want to get married, then why did you say yes?"

"I did want to marry Kennedy. I thought I could do it. You don't know what went on in my head when I was walking down that aisle. A million thoughts exploded at once and I didn't want to end up regretting getting married. If I was having second thoughts about it before I even reached that altar, imagine what it would have been like after it was all said and done."

He nodded, like he understood what I was saying.

"Was I wrong for running away?" I asked, finally looking at him.

"I can't answer that. I have my own opinion, which I will share with you, if you want, but only you can decide if it was wrong or right."

"Lay it on me," I sighed, finishing the rest of my drink.

"I think that running away was one of the dumbest things you have done, and I have seen you do some pretty dumb shit. Kennedy loves you, and from what I have seen, you love him. You left him standing at the god damned altar, in front of everyone he knows. He is more than likely humiliated and confused. He is broken, and where are you? At my house? Why did you come here?" he asked.

"Force of habit, I guess," I said, wiping my eyes. He was right. I messed up.

"If you were going to stop me from leaving, don't waste your time," he said, drinking the rest of his beer.

"If you are leaving because of me, you should grow up," I retorted. He opened his mouth to say something but just closed it and shook his head from side to side.

"You know what? You are selfish," he said after a moment of careful thinking. "You are one of the most selfish people I know."

I couldn't say that I wasn't, because I knew I was. I needed to change. It hits you kind of hard when someone calls you selfish. Especially when that someone was John O'Callaghan, one of the most selfish people I know.

"If you aren't leaving because of me, then why are you leaving? Everything is here; your band, your family, your whole life."

"You can still come with me, if you want," he said, tossing that offer back up on the table.

I could accept the offer, because I basically just tossed my whole life off a giant cliff, and just waved it off as I watched it fall.

"You could stay," I said, standing up and resting my hands on his knees. "After what I just did, I am sure Kennedy won't want me living with him anymore," I sniffed, wiping one of my eyes. "I can't afford a place on my own. We could be room-mates." John just chuckled and shook his head.

"Are you fucking with me right now?" he asked. "On a scale of one to ten for a bad idea, that is at least a 54."

"And me running away with you is so brilliant?" I asked.

"No, I guess that's at least a 70 on the scale, huh?"

"At least."

"Then what are you going to do?" he asked.

"I guess I am moving back in with my dad," I shrugged.

"Well, it's a new start. For both of us. Things will get better." John said confidently. I just shrugged, not really caring if they did or not.

"You need to go see Kennedy," he told me. I nodded. I knew I did. I had to face him sooner or later. "Tell him exactly what you told me." I nodded again, not bothering to say anything.

"I need to finish loading this shit into my truck."

"Where are you even going?" I asked.

"California. I'm moving in with Justin," he informed me, picking up a box. I stood up and grabbed my car keys. I guess this was goodbye. For real this time. I followed him to his truck and waited for him to set the box down.

"I'm going to miss you," I said, truthfully. No matter how much John has hurt me or messed things up, I did love him. Not in the way that I loved Kennedy, but he was a big part of my life.

"You look gorgeous, Peyton," he said. "Just take care. Stop second guessing yourself so much. I've seen you go through men like there was no tomorrow, and you know what, there may not be. I've seen how cruel this world can be. It only takes seconds for it to change. You need to make the most out of it every day."

"So do you. Starting with you staying here," I tried, one last time. He just smiled and shook his head, wrapping his arms around me.

"I honestly saw myself marrying you," he whispered into my hair.

"Don't do this," I shook my head, wanting him to stop.

"Last night, when I kissed you, I know it was wrong. I just couldn't not kiss you. I thought it was goodbye," he continued.

"It wasn't goodbye. This is," I sniffled, burying my face in his shirt.

"Not for long. It's not like I am disappearing off of the face of the Earth. I am just a road trip away."

"Don't go. This is stupid. There is no reason for you to leave," I pleaded. I know what you are thinking. Yes, I love John. No, I am not in love with John. Squash that theory right now.

"I love you Peyton," he said, kissing my forehead. "Take care of yourself," he demanded, letting go of me. "And Kennedy. Tell him I will see him in a month for band practice," he called out as he walked back inside of his house.

I got back into my car and drove. I drove the few miles to mine and Kennedy's house. Our house. Or what used to be our house. I guess now it wasn't mine.

I had no idea what I would be walking into, so I prepared myself. His car was in the driveway, but he wasn't home. As I walked into our bedroom, I instantly smelled his lingering cologne.

What have I done?

I saw a note, folded on my pillow. My stomach turned at the sight of it. I couldn't imagine what he wrote in it. My mind was racing a thousand thoughts per second.

My dearest Peyton,

I am sorry if I pushed you into something you didn't want to do. I should have listened to you last night when you called me. I knew you had cold feet, but I didn't know it was that bad. Is it cliché to say that I am sorry? I don't think that word even means anything. I just selfishly wanted you to be my wife so bad, that I didn't take the time to analyze what was going on with you. I feel like we rushed this for no reason. If I could take it all back, believe me baby, I would.

I really wanted to tell you that you took my breath away today, and just seeing you walk down that aisle, however briefly, was something that I will never forget. I will think of it at least twice every day for the rest of my life.

I want to know that you are okay, so please, call me when you read this. I will give you all of the space you need, but please, don't give up on us yet. We have so much together. You are the only thing in this whole world that means anything to me, and if I lost you, I would never forgive myself.

You are my life. You are my everything. You are the only thing.

I love you more than you could possibly know.

Forever and always,

Kennedy

My tears stained the letter and the ink started to smudge. He thought it was his fault. He thought that he pushed me into this. He couldn't have been more wrong.

This was my fault. This wasn't his, at all. The fact that he forgave me so easily made me feel worse than I already did. I didn't deserve this. I deserved so much worse. I deserved yelling, and cursing. I deserved to be put in my place, not put on a pedestal. I picked up my phone off of the nightstand, where I left it this morning and dialed his number. I paced back and forth as it rang, but it went to voicemail after a while. I almost hung up, but decided it would be best if I left one.

"Kennedy," I sobbed into the phone. Pull yourself together, Peyton. "I am so sorry," I choked out. "Come home, please."

I set the letter and the phone down on the nightstand next to our bed and climbed under the covers, too lazy to take my heavy dress off. I slept on Kennedy's side of the bed that night, falling asleep inhaling the scent of him on our sheets.

When I woke up, I looked at the clock. It was 4:02 a.m. I shot up and looked around the room, my eyes finally resting on the man sitting in the chair in the corner of our room, watching me sleep.

"Hey," he whispered, slowly standing up and walking towards the bed. I turned the lamp on and waited until my eyes adjusted to the newly lit room.

"Hey," I replied, kicking the sheets off of me. I grabbed the letter off of the nightstand and scanned over it. "This wasn't your fault," I said, finally looking at him. The man I ran away from only hours ago was just staring at me. He looked like Hell, and that was nobody's fault but my own.

"You tried to warn me and I didn't listen," he sighed, sitting down on the mattress. I shook my head and sat the letter back down on the dresser.

"I was selfish," I started. I did what John told me to do, and told him everything that I told John.

For the most part, he looked like he understood, and I was thankful for that. I didn't deserve it. Kennedy was such a kind heart, and that's what I loved most about him. When I was done giving my "I'm so sorry I am selfish" speech, he took me into his arms and whispered sweet nothings into my ear, trying to make me feel better. It worked a little bit.

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asked me, pulling away slightly.

"Pancakes," I told him, smiling because after all of this, he still wanted me around.

"You should shower and change," he sighed, looking down at my wedding dress. I nodded and stood up.

"Can you unzip me?" I asked. He smiled and came up behind me, planting tiny kisses on my neck as he slowly undid the dress. I smiled and closed my eyes, loving the tingling feeling he still gave me in the pit of my stomach.

"Oh yeah, John said he will see you in a month for band practice," I told him. I felt his hand freeze and his lips were instantly off of my neck.

"You saw John?" he asked, backing up until he was sitting on the bed.

"Yeah, I saw John. He was leaving today," I told him, slightly confused.

"You saw John? You run away from our wedding, you leave me at the altar, to go see John?" he asked.

Oh shit.

"After everything he has done to your past relationships, Peyton, you still go and see the guy? He is the first person you run to? Isn't that supposed to be me? Oh no, I guess not. I'm just the person you run away from," he yelled. I had never seen him this angry in my life, not even when he punched John onstage. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I just went for a drive and I ended up at his hou-"

"Of course you did," he shook his head. "You know, I understand not being ready to get married, I do, Peyton. What I don't understand is the fact that you can't see that you love him. It kills me, because I could never even think about loving someone as much as I love you. The fact that you can, really says something."

"I don't love him!" I cried out, but he just stared at me, his face contorted in madness and rage.

"You know, I bit my tongue when you started something with him a long time ago. After you slept with him, who was there for you? I was. The whole time, I was just waiting for you to notice me. I was waiting for our turn. I told you that I would get my chance with you, and look where we are now. We live together, we love each other. We were going to get married. We built a life together, you and I. I sometimes wonder if that will ever be enough for you," he shook his head. I saw his eyes glass over with moisture, and my heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest.

"It is enough, Kennedy. It is everything," I choked out, not holding back the tears that had been on the precipice of falling ever since this discussion started. He was silent for what seemed like an eternity, until he said something. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, either.

"I think it would be best if you moved back in with your father for now."

I replayed that sentence over and over again in my head. He wanted me to leave.

"Don't do this, Kennedy," I said, falling to my knees in front of his sitting body. "Don't do this," I repeated, laying my head on his lap, my tears soaking his jeans.

"Will what you have ever be enough for you?" he whispered.

Would it? Would I ever be okay with what I had in front of me? I bounced from guy to guy because I liked the fact that I had options.

That made me the biggest bitch on the planet, and Kennedy definitely deserved better.

I loved Kennedy, but would he be enough for me?

I wanted to say yes, he would be. I couldn't though, because I didn't know if it was just the fact that he was about to leave me made me feel so horrible.

"I love you more than I have ever loved anyone," I told him, lifting my head to look at his pain stricken face.

"I love you too," he said, placing his hand gently on my cheek, "but I can't do this anymore if you still have feelings for John."

"He isn't why I ran away, Kennedy. You know I don't love him like that, and you should know that you are the only man I have ever truly loved."

"I'm going to go see Garrett," he said, standing up and stepping around me. "When I get back, I would appreciate it if you weren't here."

And then he left. I cried on the floor for a whole hour. My dad showed up sometime later to help me load up all of my stuff.

I left the house key and note on the kitchen counter.

The note was simple and to the point.

It read, "Forever and Always."

I hope he could move past this.

I hope we could move past this.

I hated John O'Callaghan more than anything right now.

If I had to guess, he told me to tell Kennedy that because he knew how he would react.

Well played John O'Callaghan. Well played.