Page 106 of The Space Between
“No. That’s a lie.” I start again. Her eyes widen but I keep going. “I knowhow. I just didn’t want to. Because wanting youmeans waking up to the risk of losing everything again.” I’m so close to her now. I could reach out and touch her cheek. She hasn’t moved. But I don’t touch her. “I already lost everything once. And I’m still here. So maybe, that means I can survive it again. Or maybe it means I’m not supposed to spend the rest of my life surviving. Maybe I’m supposed to fuckingliveagain.” Her breath catches in her throat. I reach out, unable to stop myself. I touch her jaw. It’s soft… certain. “I can’t promise I won’t mess this up. But I can promise I won’t leave you in that bed alone again. Not without something real to show for it.”
She’s trembling or maybe I am.
Then, she nods. Just once, and steps aside, letting me in.
We sit on the couch. She stretches her legs across my lap, and we talk… about nothing… about everything.
I tell her about Aubree’s favorite color—purple. About how she used to put stickers on her stuffed dog’s forehead and call him a unicorn.
About Molly’s laugh when she drank too much wine and burned the grilled cheese… to a crisp, and how I ate it anyway and told her it was delicious.
She tells me about a girl in her class who called her “Miss Can’t Dress For Nothing” and how it weirdly made her day because it reminded her she’s strong enough to handle middle schoolers.
We laugh.
Welaugh.
Sometime around midnight, she curls into my side and whispers, “Don’t break me, Gruene. Please.”
Wrapping my arms around her, I answer honestly. “I’m scared I already did.”
CHAPTER 18
Blakelyn
It’s still darkwhen I wake up. Not from a nightmare this time but because his arm is still around me. Because he’s still here.
His chest rises and falls behind me and his breath warms the back of my neck. His hand is resting just above my hip like he forgot how to be anywhere but here. His body is wrapped around mine like we’re something more than just heat and mistakes.
I don’t know what to do with that. I asked for more.
No, I demanded it and he didn’t run.
Staying the night is not the same as staying, though.
Being held is not the same as being loved.
I close my eyes, just for a second… and let myself pretend.
This—him, here, quiet and real and wrapped around me—isn’t fleeting.
Maybe I’m not just the next temporary in his long line of permanent scars.
Maybe—just maybe—I matter like he swears I do.
But his actions haven’t proven the words he said last night and my heart can’t take it if he really didn’t mean them.
By the timethe sun’s up, he’s gone, but he did leave a note.
That’s something. It might be everything.
With Gruene, every action matters… especially the small ones.
The note is just one word. It’s scribbled in slanted, tired handwriting on the notepad I use for my grocery list.
Lunch?
There’s no time. There’s no place… but I’m working, and my lunch hour is a set time.
