Page 61 of Our Hearts Knew Better

Last time, it was him saying he should’ve just died in the crash, allmight as well.

Sometimes, I wish something would kill me too.

But it’s not this world we want to leave. Just this life.

Do you need to talk?

My eyes blur Levi’s response and I blink them clear. I know I can talk to him. He’s told me before to talk to him when I can’ttalk to Adam. Now he just asks, waiting for me to turn him down. He still tries to take things deep, and I still can’t let him. Not when I can’t see him. I want his eyes with his words, the face to face that shows me it doesn’t just come from the safety of a screen, of the miles between us. I have to see the spark, with a hint of anguish, that never died when he looked at me, even after he broke my heart.

And his last deep words were deep enough to settle into my core.

He didn’t want to be with me.

Right.

His gaze on mine said I was all he could see and he let me be with his best friend.

Until we finish our unfinished business, every conversation feels like a hem and haw, parrying our elephant, or tag teaming with Adam.

No. Thanks, I send back, then put my phone face down on the marble.

I stir the squash with a squeeze in my chest I’m sick of feeling, an accompanying guilt I’m sick of carrying, sucking it all up again because I still don’t have a choice, and this food needs to be soft but not squishy. The squash needs me.

And my best friend, who’s now inviting herself in, needs the squash.

“Hey oh!” she hollers out, bringing in the cheer, hauling in her bag purse that houses her entire existence when she’s away from her own house. Need something from a First Aid kit? Look inside the purse, she’s got it.

I glance toward the closed bedroom door, hopinghervoice will make Adam come out—they really liked each other before the accident changed everything—but there’s still not a peep.

I throw Clarissa a flat grin as I toss the squash with the oil, circles flying a bit higher than usual.

“Hey, be careful,” she lightly scolds. “I’m not eating any pieces that fall on the floor.” She drops her bag at the island as Itryto be careful, while finding a comfort in the constant motion and the satisfaction of the pieces landing perfectly.

“I believe in the five second rule,” I say back as a tease and she makes a playful pouting noise as she fixes her wind blown hair, tucking the blonde strands behind her ears. She’s the one who introduced me to a straightener our freshman year of college. Her’s is naturally straight, but she can never have it straight enough.

She waits until I’ve topped the squash with seasonings and herbs and have our filled plates in front of us before she sighs, pointing out and asking, after a glance toward the closed door, “You’re taking care of him, again, today, who’s taking care of you?”

“Besides me, you are.”

She drops her elbows onto the marble with a nod, going in with the question I don’t let her ask often or usually give a real answer to.

But today feels the heaviest, at the edge of something.

“When are you getting out of here?” She whispers it close like we’re making plans to sneak me out of the country without anyone knowing. Some of her hair grazes her plate and she checks her food for shedding before looking back up at me in waiting.

One more time.

“I love him, okay?” I say back, low. “I’m committed to him.” I chew a bite of my squash, closing my eyes with the burst of flavors, a palate cleanser.

“You’re gonna love him to your grave,” she says around a bite of food, with a groan of approval as she fingers in an herb that tries to escape. “You almost did that with your dad.”

“I didn’t ask,” I warn her around another bite of my own.

Clarissa is actually nicer than me. I tend to be the one giving the tough love, so when it’s me in the hot seat, she tries to be that person for me.

I didn’t ask, but her look says she knows. Says I don’t have to. She feels the extra weight of the day and howeverythingon my heart is beating too hard, too much.

She makes a sudden noise like she’s rewinding her words, and takes another quick bite of squash as if her first went away too. “So I have vacation time coming up and could use a girls’ trip. What do you say? We go driving, and if we happen to end up in North Carolina…” She shrugs with her filled fork, then shoves the bite into her mouth. “It’s just seven hours from here, it could happen.”

---