Page 114 of The Space Between
His shirt.
The one I wore last, folded neatly and placed on my top step.
A yellow wildflower is placed on top of it. The same kind that grows up near the ridge he took me to.
And underneath both is a note.
Three words. Just three. But they say everything.
I’m still here.
My knees go weak, and I sit down, right there on the step. The shirt is in my lap, the flower is between my fingers, and the note is clutched to my chest like a lifeline.
Because it is. Because he is.
He’s still here.
He’s trying.
He’s still fighting every wall inside him to give me even this.
I won’t ask for more right now.
Because this… is everything.
Gruene
I tellmyself it’s fine. That she didn’t expect anything after Saturday night. That she knew exactly what it was when I kissed her like she is the only thing I’ve let matter in six fucking years.
But that’s a lie. And I’m a coward. Because Ifeltit.
Every second of her under me. Around me.Withme.
Not just her body—though fuck, I could lose myself in that—buther. All of her. The pieces she’s still learning how to carry. The ones I’ve been too broken to hold.
Blakelyn.
So, I leave the note. I leave my damn shirt because even though it’s two sizes too big, it looks better on her than it does on me. I leave that flower I picked from the ridge this morning likeit means something… because I can’t say the words. Not yet. But I need her toknow.
I haven’t run.
I’m still fucking trying.
Even if my chest feels like it’s caving in under the weight of it all.
I’m here and here with her is where I want to be.
Reece doesn’t saya thing when I show up late. He just tosses me a pair of gloves and nods toward the busted ice chest someone left floating downstream. We can repair it and rent it out. Less trash for the landfills and more money for us.
I spend most of the day doing grunt work.
Avoiding people. Avoidingher.And mostly—avoiding myself.
My head is fucked and my chest feels like it’s burning from the inside out. It shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t feel like this. Not again. Not withher.But I do… and I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do about it.
By sundown,the river’s gone quiet other than the low hum of cicadas and the distant babble of the water.
I should eat. I should shower. I should doanythingother than what I’m about to do. But I can’t help it.
