Page 94 of Light Up The Night
"See what?"
"How much I have come to care for you. It has happened faster than belief would merit, but I cannot deny the facts. I would not have shared my body with you, otherwise. I know for you, sex is not—"
He cuts over me. "Whoa,no. Donotdo that. Don't assume that. I've had quite a few sexual partners, yes. I've never been in love. I've never dated anyone very long. But…sex hasneverbeen meaningless to me." He looks hard at me. "And this, with you? Means more than I can put into words. Yes, partly because I know how big a deal this is for you. But for me, it's meaningful. It's deep. It's…more real than…I don't even fuckin' know what to say. I just know I care about you too, and…"
I touch my forehead to his. "I am coming back, Riley Crowe. I am coming back to you. This I swear."
"And I'll be waiting." His voice is low, rough.
"I know I have no right to ask you to wait, but—"
"Six days, six weeks, or six years, Cadie, I'll wait." His eyes drill into mine, and I do not doubt him. "There won't be anyone else. How can therebeanyone else but you, when there isn’t anyone else but you?”
I sniffle, laugh. "For me as well, Riley."
He kisses me. "C'mon. Better get cleaned up and make a plan.”
Chapter 14
RILEY
SEPTEMBER
I'm a fucking mess.
I don't sleep for shit anymore. Why? Because I'm thinking about her.
Missing her.
Remembering the few, short, incredible hours I had with her—two and a half days that changed my life. Changedme.
I'm not suddenly some pious, Bible-quoting, church-going goody-goody, but I find myself trying to be…better. Kinder. More generous. I try to spend more time reading and learning shit than scrolling and drinking.
I wrote a letter to Ellen Johnson forgiving myself; I wrote it and burned it in the backyard. Perhaps not so weirdly, I've felt lighter ever since.
Cadence warned me she would not be able to communicate with me regularly, and more than likely not at all or very rarely, and that's been the case. I got one letter from her back in August—the paper had bloodstains on it, and it was more of a note than a letter—I miss you, I'm thinking about you, I'm fine.
Better than nothing.
I track the news out of Sudan religiously, even though I don't even know exactly where she's located. Some hospital that is supposedly nowhere near any of the heavy fighting. She wasn’t happy about that initially, when the company she hired insisted, for safety reasons, she not be near the hotspots. But it was either accept that placement or not go, so she went.
It's hard not to worry when I hear about a new battle or reports of some heinous new atrocities. Knowing she's there, on the ground, in the country where that awful shit is happening. She'sseeingit all firsthand.
It was abstract, discussing it when we met:Oh yeah, you're going to Sudan. You're a doctor.
It's another thing helping her prepare.
I took a week off work, borrowed Bear from Fee to be in charge, and helped Cadence get ready to leave. I saw the crates of supplies, helped her take inventory. Helped her pack the crates, address them, and ship them off. I saw her bedroom—diplomas, awards, certifications. Books—so many books. No band or movie posters adorned her childhood bedroom walls—instead, she had the periodic table, a line graph of the history of the world that wrapped around three full walls—handmade by her, apparently. That weird diagram of a man by Leonardo da Vinci. Diagrams of the human body—nervous, skeletal, muscular, organs, et cetera.
I helped her pack her suitcase.
I drove her to the airport.
I kissed her goodbye.
That made it pretty fucking real.
We didn't do anything else, physically. She was fixated on preparations, and there just wasn’t time—she was gone within a week of Felix's call, and we were running from dawn to midnight every day in between. We did sleep in each other's arms, though.
