Being with him in this way was selfish, I know. But it felt sogood. It’s the only selfish claim I’ve ever dared to make, and every cell in my body knows it was wrong.
But if I could claim just one more thing for myself, I’d choose to keep him. I’d choose to lose myself in his love again and again until the person I thought I was became a distant memory—someone I could finally forget.
I’d choose to love him more every day in a way that only I could, even though it would never be enough. Because that’s what he deserves. All of it. Everything.More.
More than the greatest love the world has known, this is the love I’ll give to you alone. More than the simple words I’ve tried to say, I’ll only live to love you more each day. More than you ever know, my arms long to hold you so. My life will be in your keeping. Walking, sleeping, laughing, weeping.
Longer than always is a long, long time, but longer than forever, you’ll be mine. I know I’ve never lived before, and my heart is very sure… No one else could love you more.
Track 21
“All For You” Nat King Cole, 1944
JAKE
IT’S RAINING AGAIN today. I can’t say it’s much of a surprise for this time of year, but it feels like a purposeful reminder of where I’d rather be when the weather acts up like this—wrapped in her arms, the way we were those first few carefree days of winter break. They’ve grown farther and farther behind us, but their memory still lives vividly in my mind.
I set my gaze out the window and watch the rain fall, each drop calling the images front and center.
It rained those last days of December, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t care at all.
It was as if the world had stilled for us, and with the ticking clock counting down on our dwindling time, I was thankful for every second.
We spent those days similar to that first night—lying together and falling between sleep and euphoria—splurging on Chinese food and tacos while we barely left the bed.
Alana told me more about her life—about the little she remembered before her dad’s accident and the dark parts that came after. How quick his pill addiction went from barely there to taking over their entire lives. About how abusive he became once he started drowning his excessive pain in alcohol. And how her mother had almost no choice but to run away.
My heart broke for her with every word she shared, even at the things she didn’t say—like how saddened her heart must’ve been to never know if her mother was coming back or why she didn’t take her with her—a burden no child should ever experience.
The heavy parts of her life made every beautiful moment she shared hit that much harder. My heart warmed at every mention of her brother, her hero. The way her eyes would shine brightly with every story she shared. Simple things like him brushing her hair into pigtails for school at a young age and him running beside her as she learned to ride a bike. The way he fell and scraped his knee, raw and bloody, but never stopped cheering her on. The endearment she carried was more than love; it was true admiration. Gratitude. It made me want to reach out to him personally and thank him for loving her so genuinely, to tell him how much I care for her and how I’ll always take care of her the way he did.
I watched her smile brighten and her eyes twinkle as she shared heartfelt memory after memory. But each time, the light would dim, blanketed with guilt. I wished so much that I could change everything for her.
I told her about my life, too. About the simplicity of it. Other than a cheating father who ran off when I was a kid, anda heartbroken mother who pretty much did the same a few years later, my life was fairly black and white.
I learned how to cook because I had to.
I learned how to do laundry because I had to.
I learned how to get myself to school, how to sign permission slips, how to sit through empty houses and pretend silence was normal.
I learned how to stop asking questions that never had answers.
I learned how to pack things away before they could hurt me.
I learned how to never show my need for anyone—because needing people was the fastest way to losing them.
By the time I was grown, independence was more survival than strength. And the one time I had let anyone in, it nearly destroyed me.
It was odd how natural it all came out. The way sharing things with Alana felt like talking to myself. She understood it all so well and seemed to grasp the things I didn’t say in the same way I had for her—things I never saw until now.
“There’s nothing simple about that life, Jake,” she said. “You’re very strong to have come out of it so well-rounded. The way you understand and just accept things the way they are—it’s so…heartbreakingly beautiful. And the way you see what needs to be done without cowering from it. You just do it, no matter what. And it’s always the right thing.” She paused. “I admire that so much about you.”
My heart felt too big for my chest to hear the way I was seen through her eyes. It was a gift.
“You’re the right thing,” I whispered against her lips. “You will always be the right thing.”
She kissed me so deeply then, it was as if my soul had been set on fire.
