Page 242 of There's No Us Without You
“Thanks for coming,” he says finally, his voice raw.
“Of course. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”
Nausea threatens to drag me away from Will before I finish what I need to say, so I calm my breathing and prepare myself.
“Listen, Eden?—”
“Me first, please.” I let go of Will’s hand and step away from him.
If I don’t say this now, I never will.
He frowns but says nothing.
I can do this.
“I just wanted you to know I’m not angry at you. You had every right to blame me, and I know I messed up?—”
“But—”
I hold up a hand as my heart slams against my ribcage. “Let me finish. Please.”
Will clenches his jaw and nods, signalling he’s going to let me finish.
“I wanted to come here today to say goodbye to Tyler, but after seeing you, I know I need to say goodbye to you too—to let you go.”
Will searches my face, his eyes glassy as he sucks his trembling bottom lip between his teeth. A single tear slips down his cheek, so I place my hands on his shoulders and press up on my toes to kiss it away.
As much as I want to crawl inside him and heal his pain, I know me being here will only cause him more, and I can’t do that to him.
I breathe in deeply, letting his scent overtake my senses one last time, my heart cracking against my ribcage. “I’ll always love you,” I say, then drop my head and walk away.
The only sounds filling my ears are the dead leaves crunching under my feet and the breaking of my heart.
SIXTY-EIGHT
Will
Everyone else has leftthe bar, leaving just Wren and me to clean up the mess after Tyler’s wake.
I’d prefer he left too, but I’m also not about to ask him, considering he’s doing most of the cleaning.
I can’t do much of anything at the moment. Everything fucking hurts—my heart the most.
Tyler’s death left a gaping hole in my chest, one I never thought possible.
I’ll never get to hear his voice again. Or tell him how fucking sorry I am that I left him alone, just like Mum did.
I abandoned him when he needed me the most because I was too stuck being deluded to realise my mother was never coming back—and holding onto her jewellery of all things wasn’t going to make a difference.
Wren throws another three empty beer bottles into the black bin in his hand, the clang of glass against glass piercing through my already throbbing brain. “That should do it,” he says, placing the bin down and pushing his hair back from his forehead.
It falls straight back into place a moment later.
He still has the same haircut he did when we were thirteen. I wouldn’t have him any other way, though. He’s been one of my best friends since Koby and Emerson decided all those years ago that they were going to adopt Wren into our group.
Fuck, they didn’t have a problem bringing me in—the poor kid with the holes in his shoes who never had anything to eat for lunch.
They never once judged me. They fed me, handed me shirts and shorts, telling their parents they didn’t fit any longer when they noticed the items were missing.
