I hum. “What d-do you dream about then?”
“Us, Gracie. I dream about us.”
Chapter 14
Grace
Dreams don’t hold your hand on the worst day of your life, and the promises we made in the woods wouldn’t hold up for either of us. He missed the happy events: my twenty-first birthday party, my vet school graduation, the grand opening of my animal clinic. But what devastated me most was his absence at the tragedies. He wasn’t there when our mutual college friends ditched me. He wasn’t there when we sold my childhood home. He wasn’t there when Mae moved into a senior living center.
Needingsomeone is such a curious concept. More often than not, people viewneedas a stronger word thanwant. In actuality, it couldn’t be further from the truth. It turned out that I didn’tneedDanny. I got myself through those difficult times. I came out the other side slightly more hardened to the harsh realities of life, sure, but I did it. However, the messy truth was that Iwantedhim there. I wanted him there, with me, so desperately.
Revisiting the memories is creating an invisible itch in my brain that needs to be scratched. Who is he, after all these years, since those pictures were taken? How much has he changed? Who are those strangers in the frames? What do they mean to him?
We stand in complete silence for a few more minutes. For me, the silence is comfortable as I take my time exploring the gallery wall in more detail. For Danny, I’m not so sure. I can feel his eyes on my back, patiently waiting for me to finish looking through this visual representation of his life. I turn to face him and try to interpret his gaze. Does he wish that I had been there, at his birthday party? At the wedding he officiated? Cheering him on with a homemade poster during his race with Tessa? The desire to know is so strong that I have to be careful not to ask it out loud.
As I give the wall one last look, I realize I skipped over a frame. In the photo, Danny is wearing a fitted gray suit and a Mustangs baseball cap. Janie and Tessa are sitting on either side of him on a velvet couch dressed to the nines, and there’s confetti on the floor. Janie’s eyes are teary as she looks at Danny with pride. There’s no question in my mind—this was his Draft Day.
I allow myself just one moment to picture myself on the couch next to Danny and his family, how we always planned.
I’ll kiss you first, he’d said.
I’d pretended to be affronted on his mom’s behalf.What about Janie?
She’ll understand… It's us.
That memory feels like a microscopic bee sting, a reminder of the pain associated with the end of us. Resurfaced emotions swirl in my stomach as Danny breaks through the silence, like he knows what I’m thinking.
“Hey, did you ever watch my draft on TV?” His tone is casual, but I know the question is serious.
“Uh, no,” I admit hesitantly.
How can I explain to him that it hurts to watch him play?I know it’s petty. I should want to support him and watch him succeed no matter our relationship status. But the pain isoverwhelming sometimes. Often, it still feels raw, like an open cut dripping blood. Other times, it’s like a scarred-over wound that’s barely noticeable to anyone other than me.
He allows me only a glimpse of the hurt in his eyes before he turns around and takes the few remaining steps to his bedroom door. He opens it and gestures for me to go in.
I find all the personality that’s missing from Danny’s house in his room. Pushed up against the middle of the back wall is his bed. The mattress sits on top of a cherrywood frame, which is the exact color of the deck outside his childhood home. Artwork on the sophisticated forest green walls includes a canvas map of Columbus, an abstract labrador made out of metal, and an oil pastel painting of Elite Stadium, where the Mustangs play. He has an old-timey record player on his nightstand next to a stack of albums, some of which are bands we listened to in high school. I swivel my head to look at the floor to ceiling windows that lead out onto a Juliet balcony.
“So… this is it,” Danny says quietly.
“Mystery solved,” I reply.
He cocks an eyebrow at me.
“I found the ‘you’ in this house, after all.”
That earns me a soft smile, but I still see leftover sadness in his eyes from my earlier confession. I need to bring some light back to his eyes.
“So, um, how was it?”
The corner of his mouth ticks up. “My draft?”
“Yeah, how did it go?”
An amused smile sticks to his face. “It went okay… I was only the third overall draft pick.”
“Holy shit, Danny! That’s incredible. Congrats.”
He laughs his genuine, loud laugh.
