In a good way.
If good means sitting in the dark long enough to feel like the silence might start talking back, at least.I let every one of those songs bleed into me.There’s something holy about saying goodbye with that much grace.
Is this what you did when you had to do it?No flinching, just opening the door and let the ache speak?If that’s how you did it, I envy you.You can find it ...hope, after what might look like the ending.
I’m not good at hope.I don’t trust it—it usually asks for more than it gives.But tonight, I needed something that might say, ‘It won’t be as bad.You just have to find a window.A sliver of light in the darkness ...a reason.’
So, this is what I’m offering:
“Let My Love Open the Door”—Pete Townshend
It’s been misreada thousand times—too upbeat, too straightforward, too obvious.But if you strip it down, the bones of this song is about rescue.It’s one person reaching out, trying to say, ‘I see you drowning.I don’t know how to fix it.I don’t have the answers.I probably never will.But my hand’s here if you want it.’
There’s a simplicity to it, but not emptiness.It’s all a plea.And the rhythm?It’s the heartbeat you thought had died during that goodbye.In fact, it reminds you: you’re still here.Even after your heart got ripped out of your chest and stomped on.Even after everything you’ve let go of.
You said endings deserve a soundtrack.I think maybe recovery does too.
This one’s mine for tonight.
No pressure to respond.Just listen if you want to.
And if not—I’ll be here anyway.
ChapterFifty-Three
Kit
May 16th, 1997
I should’ve done this yesterday.But I was numb—mind buzzing, body on autopilot, throat thick with regret and lust.Yes, I shouldn’t have kissed Roderick Wilder.Did I stop him?Nope, actually, I kind of gave him a green light just by looking at him like I wanted him to devour me while I got a taste of what I’ve been missing.
And, yes, I’m judging myself for that so hard.
Then Lola didn’t show up for her shift, and everything unraveled.I had to cancel my lessons, close the shop, and sit in silence with the memory of Roderick’s kiss singed into my skin.
At least it gave me a night to think about everything I’ve done wrong.Yet, somehow, I feel like I didn’t handle our last goodbye like a real closure.Also, that kiss was a big no-no.Kissing another man while I’m dating Perfect Timmy ...that wasn’t right.
It’s obvious that my relationship has to come to an end.
I’m not sure if there’s a protocol for this—showing up at your boyfriend’s apartment before eight in the morning to end things—but it seems less cruel than doing it over the phone.Cowardly, maybe, but at least I’m here.
In my defense, I’m not doing this to run back to Roderick, even if that kiss shattered me in all the worst and best ways.I’m not naïve enough to believe a single kiss rewrites everything.It didn’t stitch me back together.It ripped open everything I’ve tried to bury.
Exposed the truth I’d been pretending not to know: that no matter how long I stay with Timothy, I’ll never love him.
Not like I loved Roderick.
And I don’t want to waste years crafting a lukewarm love story that never becomes anything more than polite silence and well-scheduled sex.
One day I will find the right guy, and for that ...well, for that I need to fix myself.Scrape Roderick out of my bloodstream with something stronger than time.A lobotomy would be ideal—if it didn’t mean erasing the good parts too.Because some memories, I want to keep.Even if they ache.
For now, I’m just going to focus on ending my current relationship.I ring the bell to Timothy’s apartment.
He opens the door wearing a half-finished button-down shirt, shaven, hair neat, already prepped for whatever clean-shaven thing men like him do before a morning espresso and passive-aggressive meetings.His tie hangs over his neck like a noose he hasn’t committed to yet.
“Did I miss something?”he asks, eyes narrowing in polite confusion.“Is everything okay?You could have confirmed tonight with a phone call.”
“Oh, right, well, tonight is a no-go.I have to be at my father’s,” I say.“One of the nurses canceled for the evening.”
