“Oscar…” Eventually, I’ll talk in full sentences again. My mind is spinning way too fast, throwing out a word here and there.
Nellie smiles like a giddy school girl. “He’s the first breath I’ve taken in years. Do you have any idea what it’s like to physically feel your breath? It’s like your heartbeat. It’s there doing its job, but we take it for granted until we almost lose it or until something orsomeoneunexpectedly crashes into your life, making youfeelabsolutely everything.” She rolls her red eyes. “You must think I’m a stupid woman saying such nonsense.”
One.
Two.
Three.
I count them all the time. With Theo each breath felt like life. Without him, each breath is nothing more than a chemical exchange necessary to keep my heart beating. Without him, I can imagine I might eventually take them for granted and stop counting.
“Oscar has a past that’s—”
“He’s told me about his past,Ruby. Prison. His ‘profession,’ your mom, and… your cancer.” Nellie grabs my hand and squeezes it.
I blink away my own tears. Oscar is in love. He’snevertold another soul about my mum.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
My name is Scarlet Stone and when I was fifteen, we had to disappear for a while.
Take all thestars, Theodore Reed. You own all the breaths that have mattered most to me. Why would I think that anyone but you could claim every. Single. Dream. The idea of living without you seemed much more bearable when I thought I wouldn’t be alive.This… is a skeleton of existence.
Every new day should be a celebration—complete gratitude—of life. Instead, it’s just another day I’ve survived without you. When loneliness takes its occasional break, guilt takes over.
Guilt over needing you.
Guilt over needing anything but a heartbeat.
No one wants to be the last human living on Earth. Why do I feel like that person? What’s wrong with me?
The first of November ushers in a few brisk mornings, so I pull on a jumper and go for a walk this morning since I have a few days off. The Moores left town today for a wedding in South Beach. Nellie plans on telling Nolan and Harold everything.
My father has moved back in with me, but just until Harold is gone. I’m not sure if Nolan will welcome Oscar Stone into his house—his mum’s bed.
After I get a stone’s throw from my flat, an unexpected shower spoils my walk, so I duck into the library for shelter until it lets up.
I browse through the aisles, pulling this book and that book off the shelf.
I look at the rows of computers.
I browse some more.
I think of Theo.
I look at the rows of computers.
I go to the loo and browse some more.
It’s still raining.
I ease into a chair by a computer, just to rest.
My hand bumps the mouse and the screen lights up.
I fist my hands. Maybe I can just do a search for live radar to see when the rain will let up. That’s no big deal. I did read Nellie’s journal on my phone, but I haven’t touched it since then. I can do this.
*
