Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
ELIZABETH
About fifteen minutes before nine, I finally boot up my phone and am not surprised to see my voicemail inbox is full and about a hundred text messages are waiting. Meredith should already be in English Lit right now. I hit the green call button.
“Holy shit! You’re alive!” she answers immediately. “What the hell, Elizabeth?”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m a horrible friend.”
“Hold on,” she tells me. Her voice is muffled when she says to someone else, “Mind your own damn business and stop listening in on other people’s conversations.” Coming back, she whisper-hisses, “Where are you? You haven’t shown up to class or study group all week. Trevor and I have been trying to reach you. We stopped by your apartment after we went to the freaking hospital to see if you were there. Where have you been?”
“Don’t freak out.”
“Too late. Your guys haul you out of the library unconscious, won’t tell us what’s wrong, and then you vanish. I think that fully warrants a freakout. I’m also pissed.”
I wince with guilt. I didn’t mean to scare her, but I couldn’t function and mentally shut down. Jayson and I needed time to grieve together. We’re still grieving, and it’s an ache I don’t think will ever go away.
“I fainted.” Not a total lie. “I’m okay. I just needed a few days to recoup.”
“What do you mean you fainted? Where are you? I’m coming to you right now.”
“Who fainted?” a deeper voice says, and I recognize it instantly.
“Is that Trevor?”
“Yes, it’s Trevor,” Meredith replies, her tone slightly clipped. “You know, the other friend of yours who has also been worried sick about you.”
There’s a scraping noise on her end, and then Trevor’s voice comes through the phone. “Elizabeth?”
“Hey, Trevor. Before you start yelling at me, too, could you please make sure she doesn’t leave class to hunt me down? I’m fine. Honest.”
“You weren’t fine Tuesday evening,” he responds flatly.
A scuffle follows—rustling fabric and Meredith’s voice protesting, “Trevor, give me my phone back.”
I can picture her trying to wrestle the phone from his grasp. He’s easily over a foot taller, probably holding it just out of her reach.
“Trevor!” she snaps, exasperated.
“Settle down, Firecracker. When are you coming back?”
“Monday,” I tell him. “Pizza and a movie with me and the guys later tonight at their place if you and Meredith want to join us.”
“We’ll be there.”
“Let me talk to her.” There’s another round of shuffling noises. “Where am I going?”
“You guys are coming over tonight. You can yell at me then. I deserve it.”
“Yes, you do,” she agrees, not bothering to hide her irritation.
“Hey, Meredith. Did you notice?”
“Notice what?” she asks, her tone suddenly wary.
“Trevor just gave you a nickname.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then I hear her gasp. “He totally did, didn’t he?”
I smile, picturing her wide-eyed realization. “Stay in class. I’ll see you tonight… Firecracker .”
She squeals. I hear Trevor groan. The phone disconnects.
“Why did you invite Fallon’s brother?” Jayson says from his reclined position on the sofa, eyes closed.
“Half brother.”
After breakfast, we did some coursework, and we’re now settling in for a nap. Ryder is already passed out on the other end of the sofa. I’ve been sitting on the floor, working on calculus problems.
Jayson pats the place beside him on the couch, and I join him. He reaches around me and settles back into the cushions.
“This is nice,” he says. “I’ve missed this with you.”
I tuck my legs and get comfortable. “Napping?”
“Napping’s always a plus.” He chuckles, the sound vibrating gently through his chest. “But I miss the quiet times, like you and me snuggled on the couch listening to the rain fall outside. It was nice. Peaceful.”
His reply immediately evokes a memory. It doesn’t barge its way in like the others but pushes forward softly. I’m able to grab it and hold on. There’s a quiet patter of rain against the window, a comforting rhythm, almost like a lullaby. The dim light filtering through the curtains casts a warm, golden glow over the room. Jayson’s body is warm against mine, a familiar presence I didn’t realize I missed until now. I shift closer, resting my head against his shoulder, his fingers playing through my hair. It’s the kind of moment that invites peace—the rain, the quiet, the closeness.
Snuggling a little deeper, I relax fully for what feels like the first time in days.
I drop my gaze to his chest, noticing a small, loose thread on his shirt. My fingers move without thinking, absentmindedly tugging at it.
“That sounds like a good memory.”
Jayson rests his head against mine and closes his eyes. “We made a lot of them.”
Another image flashes behind my closed eyelids—faded but vivid in the heart—of a young dark-haired boy with light-gray eyes and a blond girl in a pretty, blue dress. Their laughter is beautiful, their smiles so big.
“Jayson?”
“Yeah?”
“You would have been a great dad.”
His chest stops moving, and it takes a minute before he starts breathing again.
“I don’t know about that. I’m hotheaded. I usually act before I think. Those aren’t two qualities a kid should look up to.”
“I disagree. I see how deeply you love. The love you show Julien and Elijah…and Ryder…” I swallow, my throat tightening before I add, “And me. I can see how the old me would have fallen head over heels in love with you. So, yeah, you would have been a fantastic father to our daughter.”
“Liz…” he says, rough and broken. His breath grazes my hair, and I feel the pain welling up, unstoppable, sharp, and deep, like a million tiny paper cuts across my heart.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to protect our little girl.”
His hand moves to the side of my head, and his lips press a tender kiss along my hairline.
“You fought as hard as you could. She knows that.” His voice shakes, and it makes my throat burn with the tears I’m holding back. “She’s looking down on us right now. She knows we love her.”
“Do you really think she knows?”
“I do. We weren’t perfect, Liz, but the way we loved each other was, and we made her from that love. Now, get some sleep.”
“Okay.”
I can’t stop the tears now. They spill silently down my cheeks, and I tighten my grip on his shirt. His reassurance is a balm for the wounds I now carry for a daughter I will never know.
Fingertips brush against my ankle.
I turn my head. Ryder’s eyes are open, his face a mask of fierce love and overwhelming sorrow. He heard everything.
I reach down and grasp his hand firmly, our fingers tangling, and I give myself over to exhaustion and fall asleep.