Page 135 of When Hearts Remember

A scent of lavender lingers.

An imprint time will not erase.

Pain and distance cannot sever.

Her laughter, her light—a path I chase.

Once in a lifetime, a sure-fired arrow.

Even through agony, loneliness, and sorrow.

No regrets, only gratitude—the lavender,always, woven into my soul.

I grip the pen tightly, the words blurring in front of me.

My hands are shaking.

Why is it so hard to breathe?

I read his heartfelt poem again, and two droplets of water smear the page. Glancing up, I don’t see rain.

It’s then I realize…those are tears.

My tears.

“Nova,” he whispers, and cradles my face.

“I don’t know why I’m crying.” I wipe my tears away, but they won’t stop falling. “What’s wrong with me? Is this a side effect of the meds too? I swear, I feel like I’m losing it.”

“Shh…” He crushes me to him. “Don’t cry, Lexy. Please don’t cry. Don’t cry for me.”

He smooths his hand over my back as I tighten my arms around him, wanting to feel his heartbeat next to mine.

I want the pain to go away. My pain. His pain.

Suddenly, everything is too much. Too intense. The rightness of me in his arms. The shredding of my heart inside me. The onslaught of grief coming from nowhere.

I need space.

Pulling back, I barely notice the alarm on his face. I quickly pack up my things, shoving everything in my bag—the notebook and the pen, my cell phone.

In my haste, I knock over the box Liam left me and the contents spill on the ground. Instead of putting them back inside the box, I toss the contents into my satchel.

“This. You forgot this.” He hands me a pen from the box, but this time, the cap has fallen off, revealing a flash drive.

I don’t have time to wonder about it when I grab it from him and jam it in with the rest of my things.

My breathing comes out in harried pants, and I stand, remembering to address the silent man behind me. “I’m sorry. I suddenly remember I have an appointment. Thanks for your help with the poem. It’s beautiful. You really are a poet. This picnic has been wonderful. Stay longer—keep the food and the blanket. I’ll see you back in the office on Monday.”

Without waiting for a response, my pulse a cacophony in my ears, I scurry away.

Why am I feeling this way? Is this what a heart attack is like? Why—

Heavy footsteps pound behind me, and a second later, a firm hand grips my wrist and spins me around.

And I’m in his arms.

Ethan crushes me against him, like he wants to meld our bodies together.

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