Page 63 of Growing Into Love

A tear spills over and leaves a hot sticky track down the side of my face.

“It’s probably stupid,” I say.

“It’s not stupid at all.”

“But what if it’s not real,” I croak. “What if I only made it up?”

“Your mum likely held you as many times as she could before she died. Why wouldn’t it be real?”

I swallow and it hurts. “Yeah. I just wish it didn’t hurt so much still, you know? I wish there were some way I could think of her and not…” My voice trails off as more tears fall.

There’s another long pause. “It’s too bad you’re not a horse,” Jaz says.

That shocks me out of my grief. “I’m sorry,what?”

“Shit,” he mutters. “I meant—didn’t—wild—” I hear him take a long breath. “Do you know how wild animals are able to process their trauma? Why they can live free of past fear and stress?”

“No,” I say with a hiccup.

“Humans are always asking things likewhyorwhat if. We make up theories meant to help ease our pain, but they actually dig us in deeper. Animals are able to release trauma by going to a safe place and reliving it again. They experience their trauma from start to finish and their nervous system discharges the fright. Otherwise, if they held onto it, they’d die. They’d be too frightened to actually do what they need to in order to survive.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a shift as Jaz turns onto his side. I see a glint of his eyes in the light from the clock. My breath comes ragged and hitched. I don’t want to be crying in front of Jaz. I didn’t mean for the conversation to go this way. But now that I’ve started talking, I can’t seem to stop.

“I feel like I don’t deserve to miss her,” I whisper. “Because it’s my fault she’s dead. If she hadn’t had me, she would have lived.”

“You don’t know that. She may have succumbed to the cancer anyway. And she made a choice—it was her decision.”

“I want more than only one maybe-memory,” I say. “I want her alive. I want her here, I want to know her, I want…” I dissolve into heaving sobs that reverberate through my body. It’s so embarrassing but I can’t stop it. The grief pours out of me.

Suddenly, I’m pulled against a hard chest, a pair of strong arms wrapping around me.

“Shhh,” Jaz murmurs in my ear. “It’s all right. Let it out…”

He lets me cry against him until his T-shirt is soaked with my tears. And I can’t even think about the feel of his body or marvel at his strong hands as they curl around my shoulders and back.

I only feel safe.

I fall asleep with his arms around me.

EIGHTEEN

JAZ

Cass is stillin my arms when I wake up the following morning.

Our conversation last night was like something out of a dream, but having her here, her head resting on my chest, one palm splayed over my stomach…I feel grounded.

We fit together, she and I. I know it’s not appropriate to hold someone else’s girlfriend like this. But I don’t want to let her go yet. I want the dream to keep going, her and me, entwined together. I can still see the future I painted for us at the bar last night. And the warmth of her in my arms this morning only makes me ache for it more.

Unfortunately, other parts of my body are making themselves known. The last thing I need is for Cass to think I’m sexualizing her, especially after she shared something so deeply personal with me last night. I carefully extricate myself and head to the toilet. When I emerge, teeth brushed and presentable, Cass is already up and in her running gear.

“I’m off for a run,” she says.

“See you in a bit,” I tell her. There’s a coffeemaker in our room so I set it brewing and jump in the shower. I can’t help having a wank—the feel of Cass in my arms is still so potent.

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