Page 6 of Pieces of Me

You’ll laugh and nod again because he’ll somehow know how to piece you together. “I had a ballet recital when I was six,” you’ll tell him. “And my mom was in the audience, clapping and cheering louder than anyone. I thought I was the best girl there because that’s how she made me feel. It turns out she was just drunk. Someone must have called the cops because they were waiting in the parking lot for her when it was over and made her do a sobriety test in front of everyone. It was the first time I was taken from her… It’s the day I lost my innocence.”

He’ll hang your winning artwork on the wall opposite the bed, and even though you’ll find it morbid, he’ll convince you otherwise.

He’ll tell you that now, the younger you can see the new you, and she’ll know that the heartache and the pain and the anguish will ebb and it will flow, but it isn’t always, and it isn’t forever, because when she sees who you are now,howyou are now, she’ll know it will be okay.

Youwill be okay.

You’ll fall asleep the same way you do most nights—in the safest place in the world—in his arms. But when you wake a few hours later, he’ll no longer be there, in your arms or your bed. Instead, he’ll be pacing—limping—at the foot of the bed, and you’ll hear the harshness of his breaths slice through the surrounding silence. You’ll sit up, flick on the lamp, and his eyes will snap to yours. “I didn’t make plans for you,” he’ll say. “All this time, it was about Mia and her baby, and I… I never made plans for you.” His words will be rushed, no room for oxygen. “We’ll be graduating in a couple of months, and then… then what?”

You’ll push the covers off of you and shuffle on your knees to get to him, pull him down by his arm until he’s sitting on the bed with you. “Then we’ll have the summer,” you’ll tell him.

“I have to go back home for the summer.”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

A hint of a smile will grace his lips. “And after that?”

“After that… whatever it takes, we’ll make it happen.”

“Promise me,” he’ll say. “Because I can’t live without you, Jamie.”

You’ll nod, and you’ll kiss him until you feel the tension leave him…

…and that same tension leaves you…

Because while almost everything in your life, in your future, is uncertain, there’s only one thing you’re sure of:

You can’t live without him, either.

And in that moment,you’rethe believer.

The dreamer.

Theliar.

“It looks just like it did when you moved in here.” Holden’s words have me shutting my laptop and rushing to my feet so fast my head spins. I open my mouth to respond, but nothing forms.

He’s standing in the open doorway of the pool house, hands shoved in his pockets as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. After yesterday’s reading of the will, I assumed he left town. Obviously, I was wrong.

He steps into the room and looks around. Nose scrunched in disgust, he adds, “Not so much when you left, though.”

There’s a disdain in his voice, in the way he spits every word. And even though his reaction is what I expected if I were ever around him again, I didn’t expect this level of hurt because of it.

Maybe I should’ve.

“I guess,” I murmur, turning from him to shove my laptop in my bag. Heart heavy, I push out a breath and try to collect my thoughts. “I was just leaving, so…”

“You don’t have to,” he says, and when I turn to him, he shrugs. “I mean… this placeishalf yours.” He stops a foot in front of me, head angled to one side as his eyes roam mine, and I can’t look away. Can’t bring myself closer. “You seem smaller than I remember.” Hemakesme feel smaller. “And why do you look so…” He pauses a beat as if contemplating his following words. “Scared?” He doesn’t wait for a response as he moves around me to the bed—the bed I was just leaning against while I wrote random words to form useless sentences. The same bed we practically shared once upon a time.

It seems like forever ago.

And yesterday.

All at once.

He sits down on the edge of the bed, arms outstretched behind him. “If you’re worried that I’m going to ask where the fuck you’ve been the past five years and why you up and left in the first place, then don’t. I don’t want to know because I don’t give a shit. It won’t change what happened, and it sure as hell isn’t going to change the way I feel about you, so—”

“Holden,” I cut in, my voice cracking, breaking my facade. I fight to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. “You have every right to feel however you want to feel, but I was still trying to process Esme’sdeathwhen you came storming through those doors yesterday. So if at any time you feel like cutting me some slack, now would be great. Because I’ve had a really,really, fucked-up week.” I fill my lungs with some much-needed air before adding, “And I’m pretty sure that you piling more shit on me is going to push me over the fucking edge.”

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