Page 56 of Leave Before I Love You
“It’s okay. I’ll…I’ll just have to get back to you on the being-friends thing. I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
“Of course. I understand.”
“Well…” He shrugs. “Goodbye, I guess.”
“Goodbye, Justin.”
Ironically, now that I’ve cut him loose, I’m having a lot less trouble remembering his name.
He doesn’t say anything after that, instead searching my eyes for one long moment. Eventually, he leans forward to press a kiss to my cheek and walks out of my room, and I take the first full breath I’ve had since the helicopter landed at the Coast Guard station.
The door clicks shut behind him, and just like that, all my guilt over Henry is gone.
In its place, an intense yearning I can’t quite shake. The room feels bigger now, colder. I sit back on the bed, staring at the door like I’m expecting someone to walk through it.
But no one does.
My thoughts scour memories of Henry, pausing on his crooked smile and the way his eyes softened when he looked at me on the island. To the way he made me feel like I wasn’t just beautiful, but…enough.
I close my eyes, leaning back against the pillows. Life on the island was hard, but it was simple. With Henry, everything felt clear. Here, in this hospital room, surrounded by the mess of reality, I’m not sure of anything anymore.
Except for one thing: I miss him. And it doesn’t feel like there’s a damn thing I can do about it.
Henry
The hospital room is quiet in comparison to the Coast Guard station, but it feels anything but peaceful. It’s sterile and empty, the faint beeping of machines the only sound, and in some weird way, it feels as if I’ve been dropped off on a new island to start all over again.
Maverick and Ronnie left about an hour ago after making their usual jokes to lighten the mood, but now it’s just me and Ashley and my tortured thoughts.
She’s sitting in the chair by the bed, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the sheet draped over me like she’s trying to smooth out wrinkles that aren’t even there. I should say something, but I don’t know what, and even when I try, nothing comes out. I’ve been quiet since they brought me here, my mind running circles around everything and nothing.
Mostly, though, around Avery.
I shouldn’t be thinking about her. Not right now. Not with Ashley sitting a foot away, her eyes red from crying. But I can’t help it. Thirteen days on that island… It was like nothing else existed. Just us. And now, sitting here under the harsh fluorescent lights, it feels like a dream I’ve woken up from too soon.
I pull out my phone—the new phone my assistant Cara dropped off for me after a rigorous fight with security to be letthrough—and scroll to Beau’s number. My thumb hovers over the screen for a second before I type out a quick text, my question simple on the surface. In reality, it’s a thought mined from deep roots in a healthy system of weeds.
Me: How’s Avery?
Beau: Just being kept overnight for observation. Little dehydrated, but she’s fine. She kicked us out and sent us home—and sent me to get her a new phone. I guess she’s antsy to have her connection to the world of Starbs and nail techs and online shopping back.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. She’s fine. Of course she’s fine. Avery’s tougher than anyone I know. Still, knowing she’s just a floor away and not being able to see her feels like some kind of punishment I didn’t earn.
I poise my thumb over the keyboard to tell Beau I’ve already sent Cara back out to get Avery a phone and deliver it to her too, but I am interrupted by a quiet, unsure voice belonging to a woman I hate to admit I’ve completely forgotten about again.
“Henry?”
I look up to see Ashley staring at me. She’s stopped fidgeting with the sheet, her hands now clasped tightly in her lap, and there’s a question in her eyes—one I’m not sure I’m ready to answer.
“Yeah?” I say, forcing my voice to sound even.
She hesitates, her teeth catching on her bottom lip. “Are you okay? You’ve barely said a word since they brought you here, and I understand what you’ve been through is…well, it’s unimaginable. And I don’t want to pressure you, but…”
“I’m fine,” I say automatically. It’s a lie, but not for the reasons it should be. I’m not traumatized beyond repair and mute from the experience. Just the opposite. I’ve got things to say—millions of words and phrases and declarations—but my head’s so tangled up in thoughts of Avery that I can’t focus on anything else.
“Henry,” she says softly, leaning forward. She reaches out her hand, resting it lightly on mine. “You can talk to me, you know. About anything.”
I look at her, really look at her, and guilt hits me square in the chest. She’s trying so hard, and I… I don’t feel anything. Ashley may as well be a stranger off the street for how emotional I am to see her, and even though my reasoning is complex, it’s still fucked up.
