She scooted away, pressing herself against the wall,searching my face as if she were hoping for some sign that I was lying.
“To whisper ‘I'm here’ and show that I care.”
“No. It’s not true.” She slapped a hand over her mouth.
It was time to go for broke.
“It is, Tally. I’m Leggs and you’re…The Girl.”
Her eyes widened more, aghast. She shrank against the wall. Then she rolled over, facedown in her pillow, her back to me. “No. No, no, no, no.”
I slid onto the bed, supine next to her, and wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her back tight against my chest. “One word from your lips could end all this pain,” I breathed. “And turn nine years of drought to life-giving rain.”
She shuddered against my chest and the sobs ripped through her so hard it vibrated through my cast and into my broken hand.
“I love you,” I confessed. “I always have. Since the moment we argued about Jane Eyre at my parent’s dinner table.”
“No,” she cried. “You can’t. You can’t.”
“I do. It’s just a fact, the same way the sun rises every morning. It’s like God made my heart for one purpose and one purpose only. To love Tallulah Hawkins.” I dropped my forehead to her shoulder, praying she’d accept it.
She groaned and sobbed some more, like me loving her was the worst thing that could possibly happen. I tried not to take it personally. This was probably a terrifying conversation for her to have.
“I’m so sorry for what he did to you,” I whispered.
“No.” Her head shook vehemently. “You can’t know that about me. You’re not supposed to know. No one is supposed to know.”
“But I do. And it hasn’t changed the way I feel about you. Hasn’t budged me at all. Nothing does and nothing ever will.”
She shoved my arm off and crawled to the endof the bed, where she sat up and faced me. “You can’t. You don’t,” she said, shoulders back and head held high, feigning confidence. In truth, she looked terror-stricken. “You can’t tell Anna or Brooklyn oranyone. Please.”
I raised up on my elbows but said nothing.
“Do you hear me?” her voice quavered. “You’re going to walk out that door.” She thrust her arm out to make it clear she meant her bedroom and not the front door. As in, ‘don’t you dare say a word to Brooklyn when you pass by.’ “And we’re never going to speak of any of this ever again. Austen and Leggs are over.” A plump tear slid down her cheek. “This,” she pointed between us, “isnothing.” She shook her head, wiping her nose on her blanket. “You don’t love me. I wasn’t raped. And you’re going to pretend we never had this conversation.” Her chest heaved. “Say it,” she whisper-shouted.
I stared at her for a long moment. “I won’t tell anyone,” I said. “But you should. Your friends love you. They’d want to know.”
She wiped a tear from her cheek. “You have no idea what you’re saying. Trust me on that. Telling my friends would be the worst thing I could do.” Her jaw clamped tight like that was all she was going to say about it.
I pushed forward, my eyes drilling into hers. “Things happen for a reason. Of the twenty-seven million writers on Incognito, the algorithm matchedus. Maybe the universe knew what it was doing. Maybe it knew you’d carried this secret alone long enough. Think about that.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You want to know what I know about the universe?” Her jaw pulsed. “That it sucks. The universe is a drunk driver, careening through the cosmos, leaving wrecked lives in its wake. And now you think it's suddenly sobered up and decided to play Fairy Godmother?” She exhaled a bitter laugh. “No. Sorry. I don’t believe that. I’vecried more tears this week than I have in nine years. That’s what the universe does. It breaks hearts. It doesn’t mend them.” She hugged her knees to her chest. “You don’t love me. You need to go.” Her gaze was trained on the opposite wall like she didn’t want to look at me for another second. “Please.”
I stood and walked to the door, hands shaking, feeling like I was tumbling head over foot into a bottomless abyss. But I needed to know for sure. “Are you saying that you don’t love me? Because that kiss…felt like love. It felt likeintenselove.”
“You can’t love me,” she said again, not answering my question. Then she looked at the opposite wall and whimpered. “Please, go.”
“Tally.”
She shook her head and crumpled in on herself, crying even harder.
I didn’t want to go. It was the last thing I wanted. But Tally needed to know that I would always respect her boundaries. So I pulled the door open and did as she’d asked.
eleven
TALLY
Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it.
