Page 85 of Fragments of You

His hair is different too. Shaved close on the sides but long enough on top that a small piece falls across his forehead, nearly reaching his eye.

But his eyes, a crisp blue like the summer sky, those are exactly as I remember. The kind of eyes that make you feel like you’re being looked straight through.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” I attempt to lighten the sudden heaviness that settles over me like concrete. It’s not dread or uncertainty, though, it’s love. Paralyzing and undeniable love. It bursts out of me from every pore, threatening to rip me apart at the seams.

A part of me feared I wouldn’t feel this way. That despite our letters and all we’ve shared with one another while I’ve been away, the spark would no doubt have faded. But it hasn’t. If anything, it burns brighter and hotter than it ever has before.

“You’ve been working on Mr. Miller’s farm again, I see.” I take in the ripple of his arm muscles, accentuated by his deep tan.

“Someone has to help the poor man. He’s pushing ninety these days.” The smile that touches his lips makes me feel weak in the knees.

“It’s really good to see you,” I tell him, having been drinking him in since the moment our eyes met and yet feeling like I haven’t made so much as an impact on my proverbial glass.

“It’s really good to see you, P. You have no idea.”

“I think I might have an inkling.”

“Paisley. Nash.” My mother’s voice can be heard over the roar of conversations that surrounds us.

I turn to find her waving us over, my grandma and grandpa Mathews on one side, my mother’s father on the other.

“Looks like we’re being summoned.” Nash chuckles, the sound like velvet against my ears.

“I guess so,” I agree, turning back to him.

“Shall we?” He offers me his hand.

I take it without hesitation, my heart skipping inside my chest like a rock might be skipped across the water when he tangles his fingers with mine.

“Let’s,” I croak, the word sticking in my suddenly too-dry throat.

The rest of the afternoon goes by in a blur. I barely remember taking our seats, let alone the three hours of graduation speeches and diploma awarding that followed. From the moment Nash took my hand until the moment he released it after walking me to the car, all I could focus on were his fingers intertwined with mine. How right it felt. How complete I felt. Like having a piece of myself returned to me after years of surviving as only part of one’s self.

“You sure you want to drive me?” I ask, hesitating when he pulls open the passenger door of his truck. “I can ride back with my parents.”

“We’re going to the same place,” he reminds me. “Besides, I’ve spent four years waiting for this moment. Do you really think I’m letting you out of my sight for a single second?” He smiles, grabbing me around the waist and lifting me into the truck like I weigh nothing more than a feather.

My heart kicks against my ribs, reminding me once again who she belongs to.

“Okay then.” I smile to myself as he closes the door and walks around the front of the truck before joining me inside. “When did you get this truck?” I ask, feeling an overwhelming need to make conversation. After sitting in silence for the last three hours, forced to listen to the thud of my own heart and my rapid breath, I need it.

“I bought it last year. Remember, I told you about it in one of my letters.”

“Oh, right.” I feel stupid for asking. “Your dad’s old truck went kaput.”

“That’s one way of putting it. I needed a more reliable vehicle to get me back and forth to work and to the shelter.”

On top of working as a farm mechanic at Hoppers ranch and helping at Mr. Miller’s farm, Nash also spent a lot of time volunteering at the local shelter, running errands, picking up food, spending time with the animals. He never said so, but I’ve always known he was doing it for me, or at least because it made him feel closer to me. I used to make him volunteer there when we were younger. It has always brought me such joy to help animals. Guess you can see how I made a career out of doing just that.

“You’ve really made a home for yourself here,” I say, looking out the window as we finally find a small break in traffic and are able to exit the parking lot into the street.

“I’d hardly call this place home. It hasn’t been that since the day you left, but I’ve made the best of it.”

His words steal my breath.

“I’m honestly surprised you stayed,” I finally say after too long.

“I told you I would. I said I would wait for you, and I meant it.”

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