Page 102 of A Thousand Broken Pieces

“I found it when you left.” Her voice was quiet and filled with emotion. “When you’d gone … I went in your hotel room just because …” Savannah swallowed. “I saw your note to me, and then I saw this on the floor, ripped up. When I placed the pieces back together, I realized what they were. I immediately took it back to my room and fixed it back together with the kintsugi kit Aika had given us.” She blinked then, meeting my eyes. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I just thought—”

I crushed my mouth to Savannah’s, cutting off whatever she was about to say. She had done this for me. She had taken my biggest regret and made it right. And she had made it more beautiful, because she had fixed it out of love for me. Out of love for my brother, who she had never met.

When I broke from her kiss, breathless and so fucking grateful for my girl, I whispered, “Thank you. Thank you so much, baby.”

I took the ticket, which was safe inside a clear plastic envelope, and placed it in my pocket. I had it back. I had a piece of my brother back with me again. The relief was overwhelming.

“This is it,” I said to Savannah.

“What?” she asked, leaning into my side, her head on my bicep. I couldn’t resist dropping a kiss to her head.

“The start of our forever,” I said and felt hope run through my veins. It felt so good that it was heady.

“Forever,” Savannah echoed.

“We’re here, at college together. I get to see you every day. I get to play hockey, get to be myself again. And you … you get to be a doctor, baby. I get to be your guy …”

“I get to be your girl,” she said, happiness in her tone.

“And we get to live life together.”

Life. The strangest ride of ups and downs and heartache and loss. But also, a life with the world, the stars and the sun, joy and love.

And of course, love. Love above most.

Honor Laps and Hopeful Stars

Savannah

Harvard College

Seven weeks later

THE STADIUM WAS PACKED.ISTARED, WIDE-EYED, AT THE CROWD, ALLdressed in red. Music was blaring, and the excited shouts of students were deafening. I clutched on to Cara like my life depended on it.

Thiswas Cael’s world. The scrimmage was nothing compared to this. Being on the trip had made this part of who he was so distant, almost conceptual. But this was his arena. My nerves were high, and I had to take long breaths to settle them down. When we reached our seats, we had a perfect view of the rink. Lights danced on the ice to the rhythm of the song playing.

An announcer spoke stats as I waited with bated breath to see Cael take the ice. He was feeling anxious about this game. I’d had to meet him behind the stadium an hour ago …

“I’m nervous,” Cael said and ran his hand through his hair.

“You’re going to do great,” I said, trying my hardest to quell his nerves.

Cael closed his eyes and tipped his head back to the sky. He was focusing on the stars, and I knew he was fighting back tears. His eyes were shining when he met my gaze again. “I just always thought he’d be here, you know. In this moment.” Cael sighed. “I suppose it just hit me again that he’s not.”

I pointed at the stars. “He’s here,” I said, and his face softened.

Cael wrapped his arms around me. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Peaches,” he said and kissed my lips. His team taking to the ice to warm up sounded behind him. “I have to go.”

“I’ll be in the stands,” I said, and Cael nodded his head. He gave me a small smile, and I prayed he would get through this first game …

I blinked back to the here and now, and a million thoughts ran through my head. All about Cael. Enough so that, in what felt like no time at all, the music lowered and the announcer began to speak.

I focused on that tunnel where they came out. Then suddenly, the lights dimmed, and the announcer said, “Tonight, this game will be played in honor of Cillian Woods, our former star center who sadly passed away. Here to take a lap in remembrance, in his honor, is his younger brother and newest center for the Harvard Crimson, Cael Woods.”

Everything seemed to stop in that moment—the music, my breathing, my heart. My stomach turned, and a heady mix of sorrow and pride swirled within me. The crowd got to their feet, clapping in support as Cael, without his helmet and gloves and wearing a black arm band around his bicep, took to the ice and began to skate for Cillian. For the brother he loved so much, but had lost so young, so tragically …

I gasped when Cael skated in the opposite direction, and I was given a view of his back. Because the boy I loved, who I had given my whole heart to, was no longer wearing number eighty-seven on his jersey. Now, number thirty-three was printed on his shirt.

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