But afterward, when standing up to use the restroom required two nurses and ended with me screaming in pain, I couldn’t imagine letting you see me like that. Like I still am. You were right not to rely on my future career when it still had a good chance of existing, but now, it is completely gone, for good. I felt embarrassed. I felt pathetic. I felt worthless. And above all, I felt ashamed of myself for ever suggesting you trust me with your future in the first place.
But I’ve been sitting in my childhood bedroom foreight months straight, recovering, thinking. I have so much time to think in this stupid bed. Some days are okay. Some are boring. Every day I try to walk and get angry all over again. But one thing is always the same.
I think about you. How much I miss you. How dumb I was for turning you away when you wanted to see me. I would give anything now to let you see me. Crutches, and pain medication, and hopelessness, and screaming in pain while trying to walk, and all. I don’t care if I look pathetic. This is me right now, and I’ve always known you loved me for more than football. For more than just what I could give you. I don’t know where along the way I started believing you saw me like my dad does. Like I’m worthless if I’m not bringing home achievements. Like I’m unlovable if I’m not giving you something to show off.
You were always the opposite. So much so, that the one time I did try to offer you my accomplishments, we ended up here. So, why, in my right mind, would I ever block you out? I don’t know, Blair. That’s the horrible thing. I don’t know what I was thinking.
I didn’t want you to see me out of control, and in wanting that, I took away all your control. I stripped you of any say in us having a relationship.
And that’s not what love does. Love doesn’t choose itself. It doesn’t only consider one side of the story. And love doesn’t shrink back from pain either. Which definitely isn’t something I need to be explaining to you. You have such a big heart, I actually get concerned sometimes. It must be bursting at the seams of your chest, Blair. I don’t know how it stays in there. Seriously, see a doctor.
But anyways.
I assumed bad character of you by thinking youwouldn’t be here for me since I have nothing to give you in return. But there’s practically a photo of you in the dictionary next to the word selfless. Gosh, that was cheesy. I’m cringing reading it back already. But it’s true. You’ve centered your entire life around giving back to your mom. What teenage girl thinks about those things?
All of this to say, I know you’re doing just that right now: going to Pepperdine to study hard and get a good job to help retire your mom one day. And I won’t ever find myself in the way of that dream ever again.
But if I could ask you to believe one thing, believe this: There is nothing about you that caused my idiotic actions. You are perfect, Blair. You are everything I could ever want. It’s actually difficult to think about for too long. It makes me so scared to think I’ve lost you forever. And I genuinely don’t think I’ll ever find anyone who understands me like you do ever again. That’s the truth.
I know that must be hard to believe. I know that I messed up in a way too big to just ask forgiveness for. But if you would give me the chance, I’d love to tell you how sorry I am in person. Face to face. I just want to see you. Even if it’s for you to yell at me. Or slap me. You can. As hard as you want. I deserve it. It would be an honor, honestly.
But if you never respond to this letter, I will respect it as your choice to move on with your life. You deserve to be with someone who loves you in a way that makes you feel like the funniest girl in the world. The prettiest. The sweetest. The smartest. And if that’s not with me, I’ll wish you true happiness, with whoever that may be.
But you best believe, if it doesn’t end up being me, I’ll still read every single book you write. I’ll go to the bookstore every day until I see your name on the shelves.You’re gonna go far. I hope he holds your hand all the way there. I hope it’s me.
I miss you, Little Bird. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, fly back to me.
-Declan
Loud, primal sobs rack my body. I have to cover my mouth to muffle the sounds. If there were ever a time not to think, just to feel, this would be the moment I’d trace back to. The outside world seems to completely fade away. It’s just me, and the tears racing down my face, and the letter on my lap.
I fumble for the discarded envelope on the floor and flip it over to read the address on the back. It’s addressed to the dorm I lived in my freshman year at Pepperdine. Everything is correct. The room number. The street. The zip code. How did I not get this? How has it finally found me now? I collapse over my lap and mourn the years we could have saved if I’d read these words.
This was so much more than Declan made it out to be. It wasn’t just an apology. It was confirmation of everything I’ve ever wanted from him. And beyond that, it was the answer to the question I had been debilitated by since the charity gala.
Back then, I wanted nothing more than to see Declan. If he wasn’t able to speak, if he wasn’t able to move, if he was simply asleep, I just wanted to be by his side. Because it was him. It’s how I felt with Lottie, too. And now, the pain I felt in her absence? He wasn’t scared of it. If anything, he knew what I was in for more than I did. And he was running my way. My body feels weak as I stand up, open the front door, and run across the street to Declan’s house. The fog of morning fading curls around me as I make my way to his front porch, tryingto catch my breath as anticipation vibrates through me. My hand lifts, but before I can knock, his door swings open. His blondish-brown hair is mussed, and his shirt is crumpled like he’s been bent over building the bar at the coffee shop.
“Declan,” I say, breathless.
His eyebrows crumple, eyes wary beneath them. “Did you read it?”
My lips flatten in an attempt not to cry, but when he sees my reaction, his bottom lip goes unsteady too, and I throw myself into his arms.
“I’m so sorry,” I cry. The words are muffled by his shirt. “I’m so, so, so sorry, Declan. How did I not get the letter? How did you find it?” I rear back, looking up at him.
He looks down at me, tension creasing the space between his eyebrows, and his mouth twitches to speak but makes no sound.
“Can we sit?” he says.
I nod and he steps aside. I make my way to his living room couch, wiping my face.
He takes a seat next to me, head hung low while his eyes blaze holes into the floorboards. After a moment of silence, he breaks his staring contest with the floor and dips his hands under my legs, scooping me from my spot on the couch and into his lap. I release a tiny, startled sound at his forwardness. When I settle, he brushes a piece of hair behind my ear.
“That’s better.” He exhales. “Well, there’s not going to be an easy way to explain this, but, after the event, when you said you spoke to my mom… I know you said she didn’t say anything to you, but I had an odd feeling about the whole situation. So, the next night, I went to my parents’ house to talk to her.” His eyes flit away and the muscle in his jaw ticks like he’s nervous to go on. “Finally, after hours of back and forth, I gother to admit that she took the letter out of our mailbox. The letter I thought had successfully made its way to you.”
My hand drifts toward my mouth, jaw unhinging in disbelief.
“I wasn’t leaving my bedroom, let alone the house, much at the time, so even getting downstairs to put the letterinthe mailbox was a feat. She told me the mail was picked up, and obviously I believed her. Had no reason not to.” He stops and shakes his head like he needs to stop himself from getting too worked up. He sighs, continues. “She tried to justify her actions by saying she was just ‘carrying out my original wishes.’ You know, my wishes not to see you,” he adds sheepishly. “And obviously this doesn’t justify anything, but that day I got the acceptance letter to Notre Dame, and we fought about our futures, she was in the front yard when you stormed out. So, from her perspective, you left, and I was completely lethargic in your absence. I don’t think she would have meddled in our relationship at that point, but then the accident happened, and almost losing me switched something inside her. Like the sudden loss of control made her go into overdrive trying to protect me from ever getting hurt again. Even emotionally. And I guess in this scenario she deemed you as the threat she needed to protect me from.” My face must fall because he rushes in to add, “But I really don’t think she’s going to be a problem anymore.”
