Page 81 of Something to Someone

That was when the first tear fell. Hesitantly, I lifted it to my nose and breathed deeply. Only after the odor of age and cardboard hit my nose did I realize I still expected it to smell like him.

I quickly dropped it and reached for the one thing I was after.

I sat on the bed and crossed my legs, setting the scrapbook on my lap.

It was page after page of our relationship, a timeline that included all our biggest moments—like high school graduation and moving to college—as well as the smaller ones that we weren’t likely to remember. The time we went to the pumpkin patch or the aquarium.

My heart thumped against my chest, and I let myself remember it all for a moment.

The car crash. The hospital. The machines. The scrapbook I made for when he woke up, so I could help him remember our life together.

The funeral and the heartbreak.

The car crash happened on our way back to school after summer break. We were laughing, listening to music, nothing out of the ordinary. Until a truck ran a red light going almost twice the speed limit and slammed into us. We spun and flipped and didn’t stop until we collided with a pole on the opposite side of the intersection.

I didn’t remember much after that until I woke up in a hospital bed the next morning. I had bruises, scrapes, and a concussion that resulted in a brutal headache. There weren’t any lasting injuries.

Daniel wasn’t so lucky.

He took most of the impact. He broke more bones than I thought possible and most of his body was bruised. But it was the traumatic brain injury he suffered that turned out to be fatal.

The moment I woke up in the hospital, I’d demanded to see him. There were wires and bandages everywhere. But he looked so peaceful lying there.

I’d spent nearly six years of my life with him, so when the doctors said he may not wake up or, if he did, he would likely have many obstacles to overcome, including memory lapses and loss, I made the scrapbook. Every memory I could think of, I added to it. I wanted him to remember as quickly as he could the little part of life we’d shared together.

I sat beside his bed for weeks, creating the book and talking to him. Justbeingwith him.

But he never recovered. Now, all I had left of him was a crumbling cardboard box and a fucking scrapbook.

Daniel’s death left me raw and heartbroken. And the relationship that followed it was the catalyst for all my barriers.

Flipping through the book was both cathartic and horribly painful. I got lost between those pages. So lost that I didn’t hear my dadwalk in until he brushed his hand against my shoulder, and I jumped into the air.

“Dad!” I exclaimed, fumbling to catch the book before it leaped off my lap.

“Sorry, Peanut. I’ve been calling your name.”

He glanced around me, at the memories spread across the bed, and smiled up at me with remorse heavy in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, just pushed a few photos out of the way and sat down next to me, putting his hand on my knee. It was the silent support I needed.

Never once in the several long minutes did he try to speak or act like I was a bother. He was justthere.As he had been twelve years before.

“You’re home early,” I finally managed to say.

He lifted his opposite hand and glanced down at his watch. “I try to leave a little early when I can.”

“Right. Umm…I honestly planned on being gone before you or mom got back. Sorry if I startled you.”

He chuckled and patted my leg twice. “I saw your car out front, so I figured you were here somewhere. It was a good surprise.” His smile turned sad. “What prompted this?” he asked, motioning to the box.

My sigh was loaded. I didn’t know how to respond. Telling my dad that I was freaking out because I was feeling emotions I hadn’t felt in almost a decade for someone I shouldn’t, didn’t seem wise.

It was also a lie. Because what I felt for Ryder went beyond anything I’d experienced before, which was more terrifying than the fact I was feeling anything at all.

“It was time,” I said, and he nodded.

“You haven’t looked since?—?”

“No,” I responded quickly with a sad smile.

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