Page 34 of All Your Firsts Without Me

“That’s my favorite song. It…”

“It’s about you,” I say,taking her hand in mine. I know it’s too soon. I know it. The rational part of my brain understands that, but the irrational side wants her to know now.

“Me?” She scoots back, tugging her hand out of mine.

“It’s about the girl in the basement.”

Her shoulders drop, relaxing somewhat. I’m sure she was worried I was a stalker. And I guess maybe I am. Was? I don’t know anymore.

“A few days before you were found was when my accident happened. It… well, it changed my life. I felt trapped in my broken body. My dreams were shattered. My heart included, and I… I wanted to give up,” the final words rush out of my mouth all in one breath.

April scoots a little closer, reaching out to take my hand. “I’m sorry. I misunderstood at first.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Well…”

She smiles. “Go on, I’m over the shock.”

“My parents were taking me out to celebrate my first NFL draft. I was third in line at getting picked for a team.”

I stare at our hands, unable to look at her. April wears her heart on her sleeve and right now it’s bleeding for me. Me.

She remains quiet. Not needing me to tell her the whole story. I can’t, not right now.

“Anyhow, I was going to give up.” I tap our clasped hands against the couch gently. “But then your story came out and they brought you to the same hospital as me. I heard the nurses whispering about you. They talked about how strong you were and how amazing it was you survived.”

“Westin, stop,” she cries. “You weren’t lying? That song is really about me?”

“I would never lie to you. Never.” Our eyes lock. Hers searching, mine desperately trying to reassure her. “Your story made mine seem like nothing. I thought if you had survived all that without giving up, maybe it was possible I could go on too.”

Her eyes dance over my face. “The first time I heard that song I thought it was speaking directly to me. It helped me so much… you don’t even know,” she admits, tears streaming down her face.

“It poured out of me and then I wrote another and another. It was effortless. It was a gift I didn’t know I possessed. My life had revolved around football for so long. I thought it was all I had but I was wrong.”

“Wow.” She leans back, staring out the window.

“That’s how I met David the first time, when he sat with me until the paramedics arrived.”

She doesn’t look at me, she stares straight ahead. Her gaze fixed on the horizon.

“The second was when I went looking for you.”

Her eyes fall closed.

“I wanted to meet my muse. David told me you two had married. He told me everything that was happening with him. We became friends.”

“Yet, he never introduced us.” Her eyes are still closed, her nostrils flaring with each breath.

“No, he said it wasn’t our time.”

She slowly opens her amber eyes, somehow more magnificent glazed with tears. “He wanted us to meet after…”

“Yeah, but it was supposed to be at the White Glass, six months from…” I don’t finish. She gets the gist.

“That explains the rest of the letters,” she whispers, sitting up, edging off the seat.

The oven dings, letting us know our lunch has finished cooking. She covers her mouth, bolting off the couch. “Did he tell you I liked pizza?” she asks, taking a step back.

“No.” I rise slowly from the couch holding my hands up, not wanting to spook her. “We rarely talked about you after that first day. I swear.”

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