He meets my eyes, his attention seeming to focus on my mouth for longer than normal.
Then he turns and makes his way back toward the church.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ROWAN
I walkover to the tree and lower myself to the ground, stretching my legs out in front of me and resting my back against the trunk. I don’t say anything right away. Just sit and run my fingers through the cool grass.
The sun peeks through mostly bare limbs and warms my face, taking the edge off the December chill. Not cold enough to be uncomfortable. Just cold enough to remind me I’m still here. Still breathing.
Still alive.
“I don’t blame you for not wanting to be in there,” I begin after a few minutes. “It was very…heavy.”
I steal a glance up into the branches where Presley’s hiding, but I don’t push for eye contact.
“I’m not sure what’s worse about these things,” I continue. “Being reminded that someone you love isgone, like you need the reminder when every day already feels like one long reminder. Or everyone staring at you with that look of feigned sympathy, which is more like pity than anything else.”
I shudder, rubbing my arms.
“For me, it’s the pity. There’s something about people looking at me that way that makes my skin itch. Someone thinking they’re better off than you, so they should feel sorry for you. It’s honestly the worst.”
Silence settles between us again as a breeze blows through the air, causing leaves to skitter across the ground. There’s a faint rustling, but even when the wind settles, it continues.
I lift my gaze as Presley carefully climbs down, her movements slow and deliberate. She drops the last foot to the ground and comes to sit beside me, hugging her knees to her chest.
I don’t suggest we go inside. Instead, I stay right where I am, not wanting her to shut down again.
“I got sick a few years ago,” I announce after a few moments. “Really sick.”
Presley’s head snaps up, eyes wide, fear flashing across her face so fast it almost knocks the air from my lungs.
“I’m okay,” I rush to assure her. “I promise. I’m more than okay now. I had an incredible team of doctors just like your dad and they fixed me.”
Her shoulders ease a little.
“But there was a brief time I didn’t think I’d ever leave the hospital.” I stare out across the grass, letting the memory wash over me without pulling me under. “Alot of people came to visit. And the way they looked at me…” I shake my head. “Like I was already dead. I hated it.”
I twist my fingers into the blades of grass, tugging at them as I remember how awful that time in my life was. How it felt like every visitor who walked through the door wasn’t there to see me but to pay their respects.
“But there was one person who never looked at me like that. My best friend, Emily. She never stopped believing I’d get better. And I think she’s why I didn’t give up.” I laugh to myself.
“She used to play this game whenever she visited. She’d talk about all the things we’d do once I got better. At first, I refused to play along. I was convinced it was pointless.”
Presley shifts her eyes to mine, listening intently to my story.
“But Emily didn’t care. She’d rattle off ideas anyway. Like spending an entire day shopping without looking at price tags. Or hiring a limo to drive us around for no reason.” I glance at her. “Or buying a van and traveling the country.”
Presley’s eyes widen.
“Every day she visited me and forced me to listen to what my future would hold, I felt a little less stuck. A little more hopeful. Eventually, I started making my own list. I called it my ‘life list’. I even started journaling, as if I’d spent the day crossing off another item on this list. It didn’t matter that I was stuck in a hospital bed with more wires attached to me than a science experiment and could barely stand without getting dizzy. I wroteabout hiking to see the hidden waterfalls in Hawaii. Or seeing the catacombs in Paris. Or dancing on a float during Mardi Gras in New Orleans. And I didn’t write about doing them someday. I wrote about each of these things as if I’d already done them. And do you want to know the crazy thing?”
Her brows knit together in a mixture of confusion and intrigue.
“It worked. What I thought was a pointless game gave me hope. I stopped feeling sorry for myself. Stopped thinking the world was unfair. Stopped thinking I was never going to get out of that hospital bed. To this day, I’m convinced Emily’s game saved my life.”
I give Presley a soft smile before shifting my gaze forward again.
