Page 65 of Salvaged Heart
At the same time, I said, “We just need a minute.”
She continued to hover in the doorway, clearly not planning on leaving until I did. “Just tell me you love me,” I whispered, and I sounded like such a fool. “Tell me you love me, and I'll wait for you. No matter how long it takes.”
“I don’t love you.”
Lies, fucking lies.
“Go, please go. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
“Sir, you need to leave. Anderson needs his rest, and you are upsetting him.”
The nurse moved towards me, ready to wrestle me from the room herself. I got up from the bed before she could put her hand on me. I’d already embarrassed myself enough today. I gave him one last pleading look, but he just mouthed the wordgoto me and then looked away. I gave myself two more seconds to take him in, two more seconds to capture everything I was about to lose, and then I finally relented. I pulled together what little strength I had left and walked away, leaving my whole heart sitting there in that hospital bed alone.
Exactly how he wanted to be.
30
BECKHAM
DECEMBER
The sun was already beginning to dip low in the sky despite it being barely four o’clock in the afternoon. The shadows stretched before me were the only indicator of how long I’d been sitting there. Time seemed to be moving at its own pace, seconds dragging, turning minutes into hours, hours into days, days into months.
Four long, long months.
A familiar presence appeared by my side, a small hand slipping into mine as Laurel sat beside me on the cold ground. She shivered, pulling her coat tighter around herself before gently laying her head on my shoulder. Nashville had been having a mild winter, but no amount of heat could warm the chill I’d felt in Anders’ absence.
At first, I’d been delusional, sure that if I gave Anders the space he needed, the phone would ring, and he would be on the other end. He would apologize for everything he’d said to me. He’d tell me he loved me, too, and that he should have never let me go. But that call never came.
It took me a long time to leave Lake Norman, dragging my heels on the last few items of the renovation despite theadditional help Margery hired to assist me. But as the end of September approached, I’d run out of excuses and reluctantly packed my things to head back to Nashville. My parents were overjoyed to see me, especially with my renewed interest in Dad’s business, and he put me to work immediately, letting me run a few projects of my own. The distraction was good, but my heart still ached fiercely.
“He would be happy you came,” Laurel whispered. I had to resist the urge to snap at her and tell her she had no clue what Anders would want, but I knew that was unfair.
That was before. The reality now was that she would know better than anyone, maybe except for Kara, who he was living with, what Anders would want. She hadn’t experienced the radio silence I had been subjected to. Their communication was limited, but he’d called her a few times from rehab, the last time on the day he got out. I’d been sitting on the couch in her apartment, trying to stay as quiet as possible so he wouldn’t hear me in the background. His voice came over the speakerphone, breaking my heart.
He’d said, “I feel good, Laurel.”
He’d said, “I want to see you when you have time.”
He’d said, “I’m sorry for everything. I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll find a way to make this right.”
“Beck’s here with me.” Laurel had told him. “Would you talk to him? He misses you.”
He’d said, “I have to go,” and hung up.
Laurel had been all I had the past few months, my only comfort, and her support hadn’t wavered. It was probably our deep history, but she could read me like a book. Knowing when I needed to talk, filling the silence with stories of Anders as a teenager, running amuck all over town. The trouble the two of them got into with one another. She knew when I needed silence and allowed me to get lost in my thoughts and memories ofhim. But she was always there, by my side, giving my hand soft squeezes, muttering assurances that everything would be okay. That one day, I’d heal from this.
“We should probably head out. They will be locking up soon, and we need to get on the road anyway. Dad said dinner will be served at six. We should try to get there early.”
I nodded my understanding, and she rose, hovering in my periphery, waiting for me. I’m not sure why Laurel hadn’t told her parents we weren’t together anymore. The one time I asked her, she just shrugged and said there hadn’t been a good moment. I guess with Anders’ suicide attempt and his rehab stint still fresh, the last thing she wanted to do was bring up the circumstances around our breakup. But even before the two of us had gotten together romantically, we had been good friends, and since leaving Lake Norman, we'd found some of that lost friendship with one another. I could pretend for her, at least for a little longer. After Christmas, she would tell them.
“Can you just give me another minute?”
Laurel didn’t answer, but I heard her leave. Boots crunching over the remanence of dry fallen leaves, the sound of her car’s engine coming to life a moment later. I pressed my palm to the gravestone before me, trying to find the right words. I’d never been a religious person. I'd never believed that once a person passed on, their soul stuck around, but in this moment, I felthispresence everywhere.
I’d visited Jonah almost every day since I returned to Nashville. Laurel was insistent we discover where he was buried, and it hadn’t taken long for us to hunt his grave down. I don’t know what continued to call me here. Maybe it was the need to feel connected to Anders in some way. Perhaps it was to remind myself of how lucky I was that his heart still beat, even if it no longer beat for me.
Finding my throat suddenly too dry to say all the things I’d wanted to, I stood and took one last look before I turned back towards where Laurel leaned against her car, scrolling through her phone.
