Page 41 of Salvaged Heart
“Or…There are some museums downtown. You like art, right?”
Nothing.
“We could go to one of the lake beaches. I found old chairs and blankets in the attic. We could take a picnic and make a day of it.”
“What are you doing?” He turned his head, finally acknowledging me, his eyes cold and severe.
“I just thought it would be good for you to get away from here for a little bit…I wanted to spend some time with you.”
“We spend nothing but time together.” His words were sharp and cutting.
“You know what I mean,” I mumbled.
He returned his attention to his coin, flipping the red disk over and under each of his fingers, waiting for me to leave, but I stood firm. If he wouldn’t talk to me, I would at least be here. I could at least offer him company. I was trying not to take his change in mood personally, but considering the last time he had been open and himself was right before he told me no and ran away, it was hard not to. I’d crossed some line I didn’t know was drawn. Hadn’t he kissed me?
My mouth opened before I could think better of it. “Did I do something?”
“What?”
“You’ve been distant the last few days, and if I did something to cause it, I’d like to know so I can fix it.”
He let out a long sigh, dipping his head to his knees and bringing his hands to his face. “It’s not you.”
So many unspoken words hung between us. I wished I could pull them from him. Absorb all his secrets, all the things that still haunted his soul, but if there was one thing I’d learned about Anders during our brief time together, he kept his heart guarded for a reason. There had been a time when he’d freely given pieces of himself to others, and they betrayed or rejected him. The latter had done the most damage. Anders might put up a front that he cared little about what others thought about him, but the truth was, inside, he sort out acceptance like it was oxygen.
I sat down in the chair next to him, scooting it a foot or so away, hoping the extra distance would prevent him from running. Instead, he glared at the gap between us, his brows furrowed for a beat before meeting my eyes.
“This time of year is always hard for me.”
Now he was looking directly at me, I could see the puffy skin around his eyes, along with the salty streaks tears had left down his face.
“When I was high, it was easier to pretend, easier not to feel. Easier to forget. J…he…August nineteenth.”
The missing words caught in his throat, but he didn’t need to say them.
Jonah. The love of his life’s anniversary of death was a short three weeks away. I could tell from the look on his face he still blamed himself for the loss.
“I’m sorry.” It was a pathetic answer, but I didn’t have the words to communicate the devastation I felt for him. Pain twisted my heart at just the idea he was experiencing such heartbreak. Saying sorry was like sticking a bandaid on a gaping wound, but it was all I had. “Would you tell me about him?”
He didn’t answer, but his gaze asked a million questions.
“You don’t have to, but…I’d like to learn more about him if you’d tell me. I think it would help.” I got the impression Anders hadn’t let himself talk about Jonah in a really long time, perhaps at all, since his death. He’d said his mother and Laurel’s father had erased any connection between them from existence. It didn’t take a giant leap to understand that had probably come with a gag order for him to remain silent.
“You don’t want to hear about that.”
“Why not?”
Something told me I already knew that answer. Whatever was brewing between Anders and me was new and undefined, but it was something. We both felt pulled to the other like magnets, and there were moments between us that were as hot as lava. He didn’t want to talk about Jonah with me because he had already given Jonah his heart. He was worried that if I knewthat, if Anders let me see exactly what he’d meant to him, it would send me running in the opposite direction.
But it would take a really insecure person to feel threatened by a dead man. I didn’t know what I wanted Anders to mean to me yet, but I did know that regardless of where we were headed, his ability to be with me was not contingent on him forgetting Jonah. If Anders could never love me, it would have nothing to do with the man he still held a torch for and everything to do with us not being meant to be. Being with someone meant accepting every little piece of them. And Anders had a million complex pieces. Many of which I'd surely yet to discover. But that thought didn’t scare me. I wanted to learn all his different parts–what made him whole–and find exactly where I could fit in among them.
Jonah was an integral part of Anders’ life. Knowing the lost love who lived in his soul would only help me understand him better.
“Is that why you’ve kept this from me? You think I don’t want to hear about him?”
“Beck, I…”
“Because I am not lying when I say I do. Anders, you talking about someone who meant the world to you, and the agony you feel in their absence will not change how I feel about you.” He blinked as I tried to convey the seriousness of my words in my expression. “I want to know all of you, whether as a friend or something more. If that means getting to know him too–I want that. Need that. If you're not ready to tell me about him yet, I understand, but I need you to know you can come to me about this. You don’t need to hide this part of you from me. ”
