Page 102 of Cross My Heart

Dear Noah,

There are so many things I wish I could say to you in person, but a letter will have to do. First, I want to say I’m sorry. From the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry for telling on you. I know it was wrong of me. I hope you understand why I did it. More than I want your forgiveness, I want you to live. I want you to have a long and happy life, even if it’s without me.

From the time we met when we were thirteen years old, I’ve loved you. I didn’t know it then, but I know it now. I’ve known it for a decade, and the truth is that I don’t want to live without you. I don’t know how, and I don’t want to find out. Maybe it makes me selfish to beg this of you, but please don’t leave me.

I hope this treatment facility helps you and returns you to me whole and happier. I wish you the best with healing, and I dream of our future often. I hope you do too.

I love you.

Forever yours,

Tyler

Folding the letter back up, I return it to the envelope and seal it once more. I don’t want it to get ruined. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I’m keeping these letters forever. Until we’re old and wrinkly, I’ll still have these. And if he thinks he can get rid of me so easily, he’s got another thing coming. I wouldn’t leave him—not even if I had a gun to my head. I’d rather die than be without him.

Someone knocks on the door, and after I yellcome in, they open it. It’s my new friend Caravas, and I know he’s coming to get me because it’s time for group therapy. I get up from the bed and follow him out, hot on his heels. The walk is short to the room where the chairs are arranged in a circle, and I take my seat and look down at my feet.

Sharing never gets easier, and I haven’t done much of it at all. I mostly listen, and what I like most about this program is that no one tries to force you to talk before you’re ready. I know people who have been here for a month or two and still haven’t shared. And you know what? That’s their right. If they feel more comfortable sharing during individual therapy and just listening during group, then that needs to be respected.

Today is different for me though. Today I’m ready to recount my story. Talk about the gory details that made me want to end my life. Talk about the guilt I feel when I wake up in the mornings and realize I’m the only one alive out of all my friends. Talk about how I miss them.

I wait for everyone to take their respective seats before looking at the therapist eagerly. We make eye contact, and he nods subtly. I know he understands what I’m trying to convey, and I’m grateful.

“Would anyone like to go first?” he asks the group. “Any volunteers?”

Immediately, I raise my hand. “Me.”

Everyone turns to look at me, and I swallow hard.

“Go ahead.” Conrad—the therapist—says. “Take your time. No pressure at all.”

I nod. “Hi, my name is Noah Milner, and I’m a lone survivor.”

For the next who knows how long, I recount the events of the worst day of my life. Everyone’s eyes are on me, and while it should bother me, I know they are paying close attention to what I’m saying. When I’m done, I hold my breath. Conrad praises me for my bravery, and everyone claps.

I’ve never felt more seen.

It’s beentwo months since I got here, and today is visitor’s day. Tyler is supposed to come see me, and I’d be lying if I said I’m not nervous about it. This is the first time we’re seeing each other in months, and though we talk weekly, it’s not the same. Will things be awkward between us? I guess there’s only one way to find out.

I open my door and make my way to the common room, sitting on the couch to wait for him. They told us most of the time they do the visitor’s day outside, but it’s really cold right now as it’s January, and they don’t want to put us through that. I wonder if being inside will be worse for us. If somehow being around other people will make things weird between us. But surely it won’t.

All of those thoughts die a quick death as Tyler walks toward me with purpose, a huge smile on his face. His eyes shimmer, and he looks sure of himself. So why am I not? Why am I so damn scared right now?

He looks good though, with his curly brown hair falling over his forehead, and his tight shirt hugging his biceps. His jeans fit him like a second skin, and my mouth waters involuntarily. As soon as he sits next to me on the couch, his clear-blue eyes dilate and he smirks, knowing damn well what he does to me.

The past two months have been some of the hardest of my life. Being here has taught me a lot about myself. It’s taught me to find my strength and take my power back. It’s taught me that what happens to us doesn’t define us. That I’m worthy of living a happy life. Being here has reminded me just how much I love Tyler Hayes. Deeply. Endlessly. He’s my sun, my moon, and all the stars in my night sky. He’s mine. All fucking mine.

“You look good,” I tell Tyler, breaking the silence. “Real good.”

Ty smirks. “You look even better.”

“Being here has been good for me,” I tell him, and he nods slowly. “I’ve learned a lot.”

“I’m happy for you, Noah.” He smiles, and my stomach flutters. It doesn’t matter how many times he directs that smile toward me, I’m a puddle every single time. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a new man.” I shrug, trying to play it off. But the truth is that being here has really opened my eyes to a new world. A new life. And I’m grateful to him. If I hadn’t hit rock bottom, I wouldn’t know just how badly I needed this. “Thank you.”

Tyler frowns. “For what?”

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