I touch my lips to the rest of the lines that represent all the years we’ve lost. All the years we hurt. Grant wasn’t the only one stuck in the past. I was too. I couldn’t believe I could love, make myself vulnerable again.
Grant’s muscles flex and move under my mouth. I place my forehead on his shoulder with a sigh. What little tension remains inside me eases completely. Though I’m scared to trust him again. To start fresh, like he said on Saturday. On the other hand, I don’t want to be the only one stuck in the past, unable to move on to a future that could be brilliant and beautiful, if I’d just be brave.
He strokes my hair, the touch gentle, like he can sense my hesitation and doubts. “I’m never going to leave your side,” he whispers somberly. “I’m always going to be there for you. I’m going to prove myself to you even if I have to walk across broken glass to do it.”
I let his words sink into my mind.Just take the next step.
My blood pumps with fear and embarrassment. I thought I had nothing to lose after Monday, but I’m realizing that I still have something—my heart. It broke all those years ago. I thought I’d buried all the pieces with Grandma, but I’ve been kidding myself. All those pieces are still with me, just not very well mended. Now my heart is jagged and scarred. I’m too ashamed to show it to anyone, especially Grant. How will he react when he learns how damaged it is, how fearful I am? He’s always been so bold that I don’t know if he’s going to understand.
I lift my forehead from his shoulder. “Is there something for me to wear?”
He looks at me like he’s already missing the sensation of my leaning into him. “Um, yeah. I have some shirts.”
He stands up, and I follow him to the closet. He opens the door, and I blink at the sight of my old things—the stuff Suyen auctioned off for me. The dresses are hanging from the hangers, and the bag and shoes lie underneath. Not a speck of dust sits on any of them.
It’s like the world suddenly turned upside down. “How…? Why are they here?”
“I bought them when Marketta told me about the auction listing. I was going to ignore what you were doing, but I couldn’t. And when I saw a bunch of assholes bidding on your stuff, I couldn’t let it go.”
“I’m pretty sure it was women bidding.”
“I don’t care,” he says stubbornly. “I couldn’t imagine somebody else wearing them. They were for you, and you only. Jesus, we danced in one of them. I peeled you out of it when we had sex for the first time.”
I stroke his arm, surprised at how sentimental he is. “I didn’t know.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t want you to.”
“Why didn’t you throw them away?”
“I don’t know. I just…couldn’t. It’s like my subconscious was trying to hang on to the most beautiful memory of my life, even if, at that time, I thought it was fake.”
I look up at him. How can a guy make a girl’s knees weak without using the L-word? Grant’s the first. And only.
“I wish…I wish I’d sent you a hate text after Grandma’s funeral. That way…we could’ve had this conversation fourteen years ago.”
He turns and cradles my face in his hands. “No, Aspen. Never, ever blame yourself for what happened. That’s all on me.” When I stare back mutely, he says, “Say you agree with me.”
“But I don’t.”
His face twists like he wants to cry, but he laughs instead. “You’re always so goddamn stubborn.”
“It’s the basis for my charm.”
Still laughing softly, he pulls out a cotton T-shirt for me. It probably fits him, but on me, it’s going to be enormous, reaching a couple of inches above my knees. “Here. This should do it.”
“Thanks.”
I go to the bathroom to put on the shirt and hang the robe where I found it. When I come out, he’s in a white T-shirt and loose black shorts, and the curtains are drawn.
“You want to eat something?” he asks.
“No, thank you. I’m not hungry.” I slip under the covers, more exhausted than anything. I haven’t had much sleep since Monday, and sleep seems more urgent.
He turns off the light and joins me in bed, and we lie there without touching. It isn’t that difficult, given the size of the mattress. And I know he’ll give me whatever space I need, for as long as it’s necessary.
I stare into the darkness, feeling the air move in and out of my lungs, and hear the quiet sound of Grant breathing. I think about all that’s happened since he walked into my apartment just hours ago. What I’ve discovered—his holding on to our memories, the tattoos and the things from college. How much he blames himself. How his very presence soothes me, so the pain is no longer overwhelming. Even the acidic ache in my heart that’s been present for the past fourteen years is gone. It’s like I’m starting to heal.
“Can you hold me?” I ask quietly, turning so I’m lying with my back to him.
