Page 64 of Pieces of Me

It’s pure darkness out, the rain killing the torches’ flames almost instantly.

We’d lain down to sleep less than an hour ago, and now I’m scrounging around for my phone amidst all the blankets. “It’s okay! I should probably head back, anyway! My ride will be here in a few hours!”

Besides, it would’ve been impossible for me to get any sleep while wrapped in his arms. It was far too tempting to cross the line—a line I’m now positive can no longer be crossed. Because he didn’t say it wasimpossibleto fall out of love. He saidalmost. Andalmostis the single most heartbreaking word in the English dictionary.Almostleaves no room for questions. Forhope.

He finds his phone only seconds before I find mine, and he uses what little light it emits to guide us through the sheets of water and out of the truck. “The blankets!” I yell.

“Leave them!” he shouts back, running to open my door. I slip inside, wiping the wetness from my face, my hair. In the seconds since it started pouring down, I’ve somehow managed to get drenched all over again.

Holden slides into the driver’s seat, his hands on the wheel as he shakes out his hair, spraying droplets all over me.

“Holden!”

“Sorry,” he laughs out.He’s not sorry at all.

It takes all of two minutes to get back to the main driveway, and he parks his truck beside my RV, leaving the engine running as he turns to me. He opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. “Thank you for tonight,” I tell him. “You got your wish.”

He exhales a breath, his chest deflating. “And what’s my wish?”

I take him in, one last time—green-green eyes that give nothing away and lips I could spend my entire life kissing. A droplet of water streaks down from his hairline, past his temple, hangs at his jaw, where it clings to the few days’ worth of growth. I reach over, swipe it away with my thumb like he’s done with all the tears I’ve shed in front of him. “You’vealwaysmade me happy, Holden.Always.”

I get out of the truck and close the door behind me because no other words need to be shared between us. If nothing else comes from my time here, he needs to know that one thing. It was never him who pushed me to leave or pushed me away. He was the only thing that could ever make me stay. I already have my fingers on the RV door when I hear the truck door open and close. “Jamie!” he calls out, and I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to say goodbye. Heated tears mix with the icy rain, and I try to force my features in line. I don’t want him to see me cry. I don’t want him to know how much this is hurting, how much it’s ruining me.I’m happy. I need to be.For him.

“Jamie,” he says again, his grasp on my hip begging me to turn to him. The second I do, I’m in his embrace, his arms around my neck, hand on the back of my head to hold me in place.

Rain falls like a torrent all around us, but I don’t feel a drop when he holds me like this. I just feelhim. Covering me. Protecting me. He sniffs a few times, his chest jerking forward against my cheek. “I always thought it would be so much easier if you’d just said goodbye.” He wipes his eyes along my shoulder, soaking his tears into me. “It’s not, is it?”

I shake my head against his chest.

For seconds, we hold each other, my arms around his torso, my hands gripping the back of his shirt. I don’t want to let go, but I know Ihaveto, and when he pulls back, I reluctantly release him. He kisses my forehead but doesn’t force me to look at him. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

I nod at the ground, and then he reaches around me, opening my door. I don’t look back as I step inside, close the door between us. I lock it, then lean my back against it, unable to catch my breath. I hear his car door close and then nothing.

And I wish I wasn’t hoping that he’d stay. That he’d ask me to do the same. Becausehe said almost. I heard the word.

He’s not in love with you, Jamie.

The truck starts, and I choke on a breath, my tears flowing fast and free. And when his headlights illuminate the darkness around me, casting light through all the cracked pieces of me, I can no longer stand, my legs too weak to hold me up. I slide down the door until my ass hits the floor, and I cry into my hands, cursing at the world for all myalmosts.

28

Jamie

The rain doesn’t let up, and I don’t sleep. I simply watch the minutes turn to hours until my car to the airport arrives. I’d pre-booked the ride only moments after my decision to leave, and it took an entire day for anyone to accept it. Made sense, considering I was asking to be picked up in the middle of nowhere at six in the morning.

My driver, Paul, is a man in his mid-fifties with long, salt and pepper hair so wild it looks like he stuck a fork in an outlet. But beneath his handlebar mustache, I can tell that his smile is kind, similar to Miss Sandra’s from the diner. “I got it, sweetheart,” he shouts, his shoulder hunched, head down to avoid the heavy rain pouring down on us.

He takes my luggage from me, and I yell back a “Thanks.”

I’d been waiting in the office so I could see the car pull in, and so I turn and lock the sliding door behind me. When I spin around again, he’s right there—only a foot in front of me. “Is that everything?”

“Yes, sir,” I say, nodding and holding up the keys. “I’m going to go return these. You should get back in the car and out of the rain. I’ll be right back.”

He does as I suggest without a word, and I run to the back deck of the main house. I find relief from the rain for a few seconds when I place the office key beneath a pot by the back door, next to a pile of work boots and flip-flops. It’s the first time I’ve been on the deck, and it gives an ample view of the backyard and beyond. It’s everything I imagine ahometo feel like. There’s a covered patio area with a grill, rustic table, and bench seats. Beneath a large elm tree, there’s a man-made swing set, and next to it is an old wooden playhouse with the wordsHolden + Miaetched on a sign just above the door.

I’d seen the playhouse before—in the catalog Holden had given me. Mia had been the one to show me the picture in detail the night she came to see me at the diner. She recalled the moment the picture was taken and what Holden’s mom had said.“That girl looks at him as if he sneaks out every night and hangs the moon just for her.”It was over five years ago now, but I still hold on to every word she said.“Every day, the sun would go down… And the moon would rise. Just for me.”

Sometimes, I wonder if I was more like Mia, then maybe...

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