Can we pretend this conversation didn’t happen?
Her words hurt more than they should.
Noah
What if I don’t want to?
Tori
I think it’s for the best.
Noah
Why?
Tori
Please don’t make me answer that.
Noah
I miss you. I miss talking to you.
Tori
Me too.
There's so much more I want to say, but like the coward I am, I back down because when I really thought about it, I know pursuing her is wrong. How could I do that to Scotty? So, like always, I bury my feelings and accept she’ll never be more than just my friend.
Noah
Night Tor.
Tori
Night Noah.
I toss my phone onto the nightstand with a growl. Fuck. I fucked it.
Why did I text her?
Because you are a fucking idiot.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tori
The glow of the North Carolina sunset hits my face, and I close my eyes to soak it up as I sink back into the passenger seat of Noah’s pickup truck and listen to the country music floating through the stereo. This weekend marks two years since Trent died, and we have driven over to visit his hometown to cross another thing off Trent’s life list.
Two years feels like a milestone. It feels like I should be further along in my healing journey, but the truth is, I still feel like I’m drowning in it all some days. I am a far cry from the woman I once was. But I’ll never be her. There was before Trent, with Trent, and now an after, and I don’t think anyone would expect me to remain the same. We had plans. We were going to travel the world with our baby in tow, and now all of it is just a whisperof a dream I’ll never get to live. I just need to figure out who I am now, and that is harder than I could have imagined.
Two years without hearing his voice, two years of not waking up with him or to a message from him telling me he was thinking of me. They say time is a healer, and although that may be true, it doesn’t get easier. You just learn to live alongside the feelings. This year, I feel a little more at peace knowing I won’t be waking up on the anniversary of the day that changed all our lives alone.
We pull up outside the bar Trent visited frequently. Tonight we will eat his favorite foods, share old jokes and stories, and keep his memory alive as we tick something off the bucket list. It’s not easy, but doing it with Noah makes it a little easier to manage. I worry I have become too reliant on him and lean on him in ways I maybe shouldn’t, but when you feel like you are drowning and have someone who feels like the anchor to help stabilize you and keep you safe, it’s hard to let that go. If I were being truly honest, I like the way I feel when I am around him. Noah gets me in a way no one ever has.
“You ready?” Noah asks, giving me a grin that makes my stomach flutter. He’s dressed in dark blue jeans, a white T-shirt that shows that artwork on his arms, which he seems to add to with each passing year, and a baseball cap, and it makes it harder to keep denying how I feel about him. I replay the night we were texting over in my mind, flitting between regretting the entire confession and then wishing I was a little braver and admit that my feelings for him are growing into something that is more than friends. But of course, when those feelings surface, so does my guilt for having them.
All I can manage is a nod as I reach for the door handle.
