Page 22 of Rewrite Our Story

She’s always been my kryptonite, my favorite drug and sobriety was never an option. But the problem is—I’d rather deal with the addiction to her than the suffocating realization that my mom is gone forever.

I’ve dealt with losing Mare before. I know I could do it again. What I can’t do is come to terms with my mother’s sudden death. At least not tonight.

“How did you know?” she asks.

The door shuts behind me. “Because it’s the same feeling I used to get with you.”

Her lips part in shock. She runs her hands down her pajama pants with nerves. “Yeah?”

I nod. I’m brave enough to take a few steps closer to her. She surprisingly lets me crowd her space.

“I know there’s still so much fucking baggage between us, Goldie. And I know that I’ve been shitty to you since you showed up, but I really need you right now.”

I wish I had the right to pull her against me and get reacquainted with the way her body feels pressed against mine. As if she can read my mind, she closes the small space between us and wraps her arms around me.

The moment she presses her cheek to my chest I feel like, for the first time since my mom died, I might be able to get through this. At least as long as she’s here.

“Anything for you, Cade. Always,” she says against my chest. Her breath is hot against my bare skin.

"Always?”

She squeezes tighter, nodding her head. “Always,” she responds with conviction.

I allow myself to believe her, even though deep down I don’t know if she means it. If she did, she wouldn’t have left. If she’d do anything for me—she would’ve stayed. She wouldn’t have listened to me when I stupidly pushed her away because I thought I was doing what was best for her.

Mare pulls away just enough to look up at me. My hands itch to cradle her face, to run my fingers across the places where her freckles used to be.

Her eyes bounce to the bed a few feet away from us. “Like old times?” She doesn’t have to say much else for me to understand what she’s asking.

There were so many nights throughout the years she lived here that she’d crawl into bed with me. It was innocent. She needed comfort, and I didn’t have it in me to ever deny her. Even when I knew I should have.

Mare holds eye contact with me as she backs up toward the bed. As soon as the backs of her thighs hit the mattress, she turns and crawls into the sheets. She yanks on the comforter, remembering that I hate having it tucked in at the end.

Knowing this idea is terrible, but already feeling comforted by it, I follow her. The room is dark, only softly illuminated from the glow of an alarm clock on the nightstand.

We’re both silent as we lie down and get comfortable. Mare tucks her hands underneath her cheeks, her eyes watching me carefully.

I shift underneath the blankets, bringing my body slightly closer to hers. My heart beats wildly against my chest. I don’t know if it’s from the breakdown earlier or because I’m so close to her again.

“Talk to me,” she whispers. Timidly, she reaches across both our pillows. Her hand rests outstretched in front of me. A silent invitation.

I gladly take it, needing contact with her. My hand effortlessly wraps around hers. “I don’t even know what to say,” I confess.

“The truth. Someone needs to know how you’re feeling, Cade. Let someone be there for you.” She pulls her hand from mine and tenderly brushes her thumb across my jaw. “Letmebe there for you.”

Tomorrow I’ll have to go back to being angry with her in an effort to protect my heart. But tonight, I’m going to let her do exactly that. I’m going to let her be there for me. Because I need her more than ever before.

13

MARE - PRESENT

Cade is broken.

I respect him for how long he tried to keep it together, but as he stares blankly back at me, I know that he’s far from being okay. He seems to be moments away from completely breaking down, or maybe he already has.

When I opened the door to find him on the other side, he had a look of pure agony in his eyes. His whole body had shook as he’d walked into the room after me. It only stopped shaking after I took his hand in mine and tried to give him a physical reminder that he isn’t alone.

“I can’t get it out of my head,” he admits hoarsely. He squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s trying to remove the memory of his mom from his mind. “All I can see when I close my eyes is…her. In a way that no child should have to remember their parent.”

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