I take a pause to sniffle, wipe my eyes, and breathe.
“Oh, Holland.” Ivy leans into my side, her arms wrapping around my far shoulder. She’s pulling me into her.
“I don’t know if things would’ve been different if I would’ve made it there when I was supposed to. But I would’ve been able to see her. Just one more time.” I drop my head down. I hurt right down to my bones. This is the same hurt I’ve carried for years. I’m reminded why many people don’t know this story… I can barely tell it.
We sit on the loveseat in silence. The fire crackles. Ivy doesn’t ask any questions. She just lets me be. I do what I can to tell the rest of the story.
“After that, my life was immediately different. I asked Lauren and some of my finance friends to come to the funeral and they all told me they couldn’t make it. Lauren could’ve made it, but told me funerals made her uncomfortable and she’d only met my sister once.She didn’t want to intrude.” The last part comes out sounding sarcastic because of how bizarre it is. Doesn’t seem like a real person would do this. But I have to remind myself that I wasn’t that far off.
“And that was it. The life I thought I wanted, the person I wanted to be, crumbled down in front of me. I went back to my apartment to pack everything up and submitted my resignation. I moved into Hazel’s place— now my place. She finished it a few months before the accident. She didn’t even have a chance to show it to me in person. We did progress updates via FaceTime and photos.”
“The first night I slept in the new place, Hazel’s place, it felt like I was cracked open. She was everywhere and nowhere. I thought about how I couldn’t remember what she was wearing the last time I saw her.”
I look over and see Ivy wipe a tear from her face.
“A few days after the funeral, when I was ready to explode with every feeling, I needed to escape. I couldn’t look at my parents for another minute. Couldn’t handle the hugs and hands on my shoulders telling me how much Hazel loved me. It was fucking torture.” I can hear the anger in my voice.
“I hid in my childhood bedroom and found a task I could accomplish. I listened to and deleted old voicemails from my phone.” I’m rubbing my hands together hard enough for my knuckles to be white and my muscles to cramp. “There was a voicemail from Hazel. It was the night I missed my flight. It was my last piece of her. She was so fucking nice. I was a fucking selfish prick and she was still so nice to me. She didn’t complain about me missing a flight or sound irritated. Instead, she told me how excited she was to see me the next day and that she had something special for me, and knew I’d love it. And she told me she loved me.”
I take another break. Air is hard to find.
“I must have listened to that voicemail a hundred times. I couldn’t move from that room.” I wipe more tears away.
“This was Hazel’s dream… the lodge. I came to do what she would’ve done if she’d had the chance. There was no other way. All the people who I thought were my friends in the city, all faded away. I got a few texts after the funeral but they stopped reaching out pretty quickly.”
My eyes gaze at my arm.
“I got that tattoo so that it feels like she’s close to me. When my arms are down, that H is close to my heart.” I pull the arm into my side.
Ivy takes it in. My hurt. My pain. The saddest story I’ve ever told. The saddest story I’ve ever lived.
“Holland. I’m so sorry,” she says as she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me into a hug. “There are no words.”
“I was such a dick. To be honest, I used to be more like Royce than I care to admit.” I laugh it off like it doesn’t make my stomach hurt. “Hereminds me so much of my past life and people who I thought were my friends.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t compare yourself to him. You’re a kind and wonderful man. We all fall short sometimes but you are nothing like Royce.” She’s stern but makes her point clear.
I hug her back but don’t say anything. There’s more to say but I don’t have any words left. Not tonight. Not about this.
“I think it’s incredible you came back to the lodge. You could’ve stayed in the city, left this part of you and your family behind. But you didn’t.” Her words are full of empathy and her touch is full of care.
“When did this happen?” She’s quiet when she asks.
“Three years ago.”
She doesn’t say anything in response but instead, she crawls into my lap. Ivy alternates between running her fingers through my hair and rubbing my back. Her forehead rests on the side of my face. The flames feel like they’re hypnotizing me. The ache in my heart will never go away, but with each touch from Ivy, it shifts.
After my tears are gone and the hurt isn’t roaring through my bones, Ivy takes my face in her hands.
“Holland. Listen to me. You’re a good man.”
She doesn’t give me time to protest or respond. Instead, she presses her lips to mine. Her fingers trace my jawline, soft on my face. The kiss is slow and heavy. She tastes like wine and sugar.
I could live in this moment forever.
Chapter Forty-Nine
I DON’T KNOW how late it is when we finally pull ourselves away from the fire. Everything is different. I know it was a substantial step for Holland to share Hazel’s story. He was vulnerable and tried his best to be open. All I wanted to do was kiss him, over and over, like I could lessen the hurt.
