Page 101 of Cross My Heart

“I heard they will teach me coping mechanisms,” he says softly, still not looking at me. I pull into a parking spot in front of the large building, and he tenses. “I just hope I can make them work.”

“You will.” Turning toward him, I unbuckle my seatbelt. “Look at me, Noah.” He turns toward me now and we make eye contact. He licks his lips, and my eyes track the movement, but I don’t move to kiss him. When my eyes snap back up to his, I say, “You’re the strongest person I know.”

“No, I’m not.” He shakes his head. “Right now—I’m so fucking weak. I tried to kill myself, for fuck’s sake.”

“But you’re still here,” I tell him. “And you’re trying to get better.”

Noah nods with sadness in his eyes. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never.” I shake my head quickly, reaching for his hands and squeezing tightly. “You’re the love of my life. You’re everything to me. I couldn’t live without you if I tried.”

“Promise me.” His voice shakes. “Promise you’ll wait for me.”

“Cross my heart.”

This brings a smile to his lips, and he leans in and takes mine with his. They’re so soft, and I groan when he sucks on my bottom lip and lets it go. I chase him, pulling his head toward me with my hand at the back of his neck. And then I kiss him in earnest, thrusting my tongue into his mouth and tangling it with his. The kiss is over quickly, an alarm going off on his watch telling us our time is up. It’s time to report to the front desk.

I pull away, closing my eyes tightly, trying not to cry. Turning off the car, I get out and go to the trunk to retrieve his belongings. He has a suitcase since he will be here for three months, and I take it out. There are clothes, books, and letters from me in there. I decided to write to him so he has something from me when we can’t speak and he’s missing me. All I’ll have is memories of him, but I can be strong for us. Our future plans will hold me over.

I can’t wait to start our new life together.

Noah and I walk in silence toward the entrance of the fancy building in front of us. It’s huge, and now I wonder how many veterans and soldiers are inside of these walls. But I don’t have much time to wonder, because suddenly Noah’s hand is on my lower back, and he pulls me into him. Our bodies are flush as he buries his face in the crook of my neck, and when he inhales deeply, I close my eyes.

“This isn’t over, Ty,” he tells me, his voice muffled against my skin. He pulls away and looks into my eyes. “We will never be over.”

“I know.” I nod, trying to smile, but my lip wobbles, and tears sting my eyes. “You’re never getting rid of me. And you’re never leaving me.”

“Never.”

Noah’s eyes are full of tears, and one spills over, running down his cheek. I brush it away with my thumb and his breath hitches. “I love you,” I tell him.

“I love you too.”

“Go get better, Noah.” I lean in and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You have to do it for yourself.”

“I will,” he replies with determination, grabbing his suitcase and turning his body toward the building, beginning to walk toward the door. I don’t follow. I think I’ll break down if I get any closer to that door, and I don’t want him to see me like that. I’ll wait until I’m in the car to let myself break. “See you soon, Ty.”

“See you soon, Noah.”

And then he turns around and goes through the glass double doors. I turn away from him and speed walk to the car, and it’s not until I’m inside that I let the tears fall. I let myself break, sobbing harder than I ever have in my life.

These are going to be the longest three months ever.

Chapter 51

NOAH

It’s been five days since I arrived at Warrior Refuge. Five days of endless time to think and reflect. Five days to think about the people I hurt when I attempted to take my own life. Five days to think about how I hurt myself. And five days to think about how my friends, my comrades, would’ve never wanted that for me. They would’ve wanted me to live a long, full life. And I just keep letting everyone down.

When I arrived here, I was skeptical. I didn’t know what to expect or how my time here would go. But between individual therapy and group therapy, I’ve already learned a lot. I’ve learned that I’m not guilty of being alive today, but that doesn’t mean that my mind is getting the memo. I still feel guilty, but logically I know I shouldn’t. It’s fucked up, and I’m tired. I just feel a bone-deep exhaustion. I want to get better; I just don’t know how. So I’m letting the experts guide me. I’m letting them teach me, and I’m open to learning.

I’m not going to lie, when I first got here, I was angry at Tyler. It felt like he betrayed me because he went behind my back and told my boss about it. But now those feelings of betrayal have been replaced by relief. Because if he hadn’t told on me, I probably would’ve tried to kill myself again. And I would’ve made sure I succeeded. Now, I can confidently say that I don’t want to die. I want tolive. I want to be happy with Tyler and honor my friends’ lives by fighting for mine.

Group therapy has been the most helpful for me. I know the therapists are veterans, but they don’t really talk about their personal lives or their experiences much. Which is why I think the group has changed my life. Other people here have gone through similar experiences, and I feel…seen. Understood. I think it’s changing me and my life, knowing I’m not alone in this. That other people have struggled too and they’re still standing. It gives me hope for the future.

I wish Tyler could see me right now, could see all the progress I’m making. I get my first phone call in two more days, and I can’t wait to hear his voice. He wrote me a bunch of letters, one that I’m holding in my hand right now, but I haven’t opened any of them. I don’t know why I’m so scared to do it, but maybe it’s because I don’t know what to expect. Is he mad at me? Does he resent me? Or are they love letters? Who fucking knows, but the longer I sit here and stare at the envelopes, the more my anxiety rises. I need to just get it over with.

He wrote me a letter for each week that I’ll be here, and he told me to open each one before we get our phone call. I don’t know if he’ll remember and ask me if I’ve opened them, but something tells me this is important to him. So as I sit on my bed and stare at the envelope, I decide to rip it open. My hands shake slightly as I pull out the folded paper, and I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I begin to read it.

---