Page 118 of Our Hearts Knew Better

Until I remember he’s not.

IwantLevi’s open heart. Iwantto hear these things, but they sting like secrets, because they were. Things kept from me for years.

And there’s still more.

Theclickof the door, as light as it is, jolts me and my focus to that curtain, seeing another hiding thing, everything tight and hot and aching pushing me toward that area.

The white of a sail.

The white of a bedsheet—

I yank it down, and freeze.

Bookshelves. Built into the wall. With books.

There’s no organization to them, and not every shelf is filled, but…books, myfavoritebooks.

He’s started a collection.

I step up to them, blinking at a building haze to see romances, thrillers—they look used. Lived in, as I’ve lived in my own copies. The romances look more spread open, the spines cracked.

I stroke my fingers down the fractures of one, the motion like a question that Levi answers.

“I’ve been reading them,” he tells me, low, and I only have one thought as I drop my hand.

He’s a spine cracker.

Then something in me cracks and I lift my hand again, in a point at the shelves, my stare touching every book and the curtain crumpled on the floor. “You hid this when you knew I was coming.”

“I had to,” he says, the words burdened with everything else he’s had to hide. Like he didn’t have choices.

He always had choices. We all did.

Thunder rumbles outside as my heart thuds against my ribcage.

Wind whistles as my breathing grows heavy.

The second downpour comes like hundreds of angry slapping feet on the roof as my hands slap at books, one gripped in each.

Spinning on Levi, I throw them at him, both sailing at the same time, before I grab more and throw those too.

Him, the books, it’s all a blur as I throw one after the other, each hitting his held up hands as he tries to fend them off, yet standing in the same spot, taking them like he deserves these punches, and I deserve the release.

He’s so fucking thoughtful and yet…he handed me over.

He stays with me and yet he handed me over.

He found me and I found him and yet he handed me over.

He does all these things with me in his mind and yethe handed me over.

“What was thepoint?” I say through my teeth and another throw. “Whathappened?” And another. “What happened to mylife?”

I’m out of books. They’re all on the floor, scattered around Levi.

I grip a shelf now, both hands, my fingers digging in as I slow my breathing. My heart, though, won’t stop racing, seeming topound even more when I face him again and see a reflected wildness in his eyes.

“What happened between you and Adam that summer? He said you handed me over to him.” I clear the higher pitch from my voice. “You just said, here? Take her? When I wantedyouback?”

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