Page 24 of Leave Before I Love You
A soft snort of air leaves my nostrils as I shake my head at myself, my anxiety to see Avery and ground myself by giving her a hug at an overwhelming high.
I’m an independent guy, but it’s amazing what being trapped somewhere with no idea when or if it’ll end will do to your codependency.
Part of her routine in the mornings is going for a swim and a bath all in one, so I look to the water first, rounding our fire pit on the beach to get a view of the whole cove, but even after a thorough scan, I don’t see her anywhere.
I’ve been gone too long for her to still be sleeping, but I check the tent anyway, the gnawing feeling in my gut growing in intensity with each passing second I don’t find her. There’s a small chance she would have gone to gather some breadfruit, but by and large, not seeing her immediately is completely out of the ordinary.
What if she did go swimming, but she got taken by the current or pushed under by a wave? Or woke up confused when I wasn’t there and wandered off?
Fuck,I can’t believe I thought it was a good idea to go to the top of the ridge without her—without telling her.
Concern ravaging my nerves, I call out her name. “Avery!”
She doesn’t answer right away, so I call again, this time as loud as I can manage. “Avery! Where are you?”
I run into the water, splashing frantically and searching the white sand bottom for signs of her bright-orange bikini. I don’t see it, which is an obvious fucking relief, but at the same time, my gut only feels heavier.
Where the fuck is she?
“Avery!” My scream is desperate and sore, and it’s so loud, it nearly bursts my own ears.
“Henry?” I finally hear in response, the soft, muted sound coming from way in the distance around the natural rock jetty that acts as a wave break at the end of our beach.
Fuck, Avery.
“Oh my God!” she yells now, the volume escalating so much, the panic at its root is impossible to deny. I have a sudden feeling of impending doom I can’t shake. Leaving without waking her up this morning wasn’t kind; it was cruel.
I drop my stick and break into a run to head in her direction so I can cut her distance in half, cresting the jetty just as she’s coming up the other side as well. Her face is red and her eyes are wide, and fear radiates like a painful swipe of a sword in the space between us.
I feel fucking sick to my stomach over the five minutes I’ve been searching for her since I returned, and I’ve been gone forhours.
“Oh God—”
“Where were you?” she yells harshly, the accusation and anguish in her voice locking up my throat. “I thought you were dead or missing or really, really hurt!”
“I’m sorry,” I apologize as she shoves me in the chest in an attempt to storm past me. “Avery, I’m sorry.”
Her sobs only heighten as I grab her by the wrist to stop her, and she claws and scratches at my arm to get away. Her reaction is big and dramatic and over the top, but what it isn’t is manufactured or uncalled for. I can see the raw terror in her eyes and hear the hoarseness in her cries, and it’s all my fault.
I’ve been gone for close to three hours at this point. Who knows how long she’s been screaming my name—how long she’s been scared to death.
Even as she fights, I pull her into my chest and put my hands to her chin to lift her gaze to my own. The whites of her eyes are bloodshot and tear-filled and hurt, and I hold them anyway, letting them lash me as a reminder for the future.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. Her lip quivers. “I didn’t think. I wanted to try to get cell service at the top of the ridge and you were still sleeping, so I didn’t want to wake you. It was a terrible idea, and I promise I’ll never do it again.”
Her neck strains to fight from my grip, but I steady her, forcing her to hold my eyes as I swear it to her all over again. “I’ll never leave again without telling you where I’m going. I promise.”
“I hate you,” she cries, pushing at my chest with her forearms. When we’ve fought before, I’ve given her all the space in the world, but right now, I know deep down what she needs is me.
Lord knows I sure as hell need her.
To feel her. To touch her. To convince myself and her and God above that we’re both here and well and alive.
“I’m sorry, Avery. Fuck. I’m so sorry.”
She cries harder, her lips quivering as she finally stops pushing herself away. I deserve a million and one insults, and I know for damn sure Avery has the vocabulary to come out with some good ones, but I fill the space between us with more promises instead.
“I’ll never do it again. I swear. We’re in this together, and from here on out, we do everything together.”
