Chapter Twenty-Four
Twenty-four
We stayed up talking every night.
There was a delicate innocence to it, the way we simply talked about our days.
Dex opened up more each night, the highlights and low points of his day slipping into messier feelings I helped navigate as best I could.
He did the same for me. It was such a gift to be understood.
I hated that we had this thing in common, but every time Dex told me he knew exactly what I meant, something inside me came back to life.
We agreed to hold off on the deeper conversations until we were face-to-face. He hadn’t given me an update on his return home, but I assumed it remained a number of days away. Until then, it was enough to know he had every intention of coming home to me.
With Phoebe’s birthday next week and the anniversary of Dad’s death looming, it was nice to have a happy distraction.
I kept expecting Phoebe’s mood to take a turn, but she seemed okay.
We’d tentatively discussed how to deal with the anniversary: ordering enough food to last the day and crying our eyes out to his favorite movies.
The preplanned breakdown eased the dread slightly.
I would be devastated and it would be horrible, but Phoebe and I were in it together.
As for her birthday, I special-ordered a donut cake and dipped into some savings to get her a real camera.
We had to find a way to live with the pain, not live in it. We were making progress.
I walked home with my tote bag of school supplies slung over my shoulder.
The clouds overhead blended into a milky white and if I wasn’t sweating through my clothes, I might’ve thought flurries were in the forecast. I didn’t mind walking.
It cleared my head and it was nice to get to know our city better.
Sometimes I stopped into the bakery located an equal distance between school and home, and every time I passed the run-down café before 8 A.M., three old men sitting outside would tip their hats to me and tell me to have a great day.
Boston was vast, but I’d found a quaint comfort among it.
My eyes snagged on Sequest on my way by. The Pride flag danced in the wind.
I wasn’t a religious person, but I liked to believe my dad was somewhere out there, and I talked to him on occasion, when no one was around to hear.
I’d started talking to Benji, too, mostly to say thank you for bringing Dex into our lives.
He only needed the last word when he had something really good to say, Catalina said, and I had a feeling this whole thing was his last word, one more grand gesture for the road.
By the time I reached our building, the sky had darkened and a light drizzle fell.
I moseyed inside and checked the mail, letting out a breath when I got in the elevator.
My phone told me it was almost four. We were in different time zones, but Dex hadn’t complained about my increasingly earlier phone calls.
I wondered if six was too early. Or now.
I debated it all the way to my door until the sound of voices inside snapped me out of it.
Phoebe had company? Not notable, really, seeing as she’d invited a few friends over since returning from our trip, but she’d never done so without asking first. Awareness pressed in from every side as I pushed the door open.
Holding my breath. Bracing for—what? A few teenagers on the couch or maybe even just Noah home early, attempting to fix the leaky sink.
Or.
I stepped inside, greeted by Phoebe’s cackling laugh and a loud, plinking soundtrack to whatever game system she’d hooked up to the TV.
Mario Kart, I recognized, and my heart jerked wildly at the sight of three heads on the couch, facing the screen.
Phoebe in the middle. Noah on one end. A familiar mess of dark hair on the other.
“Dude!” Phoebe shouted, turning her controller upside down as she furiously tapped buttons. “What did I ever do to you?”
“Hit me with two red shells in a row.” Dex’s voice sent me into a tailspin. I caught myself on the door, the metal cool against my clammy hand. He was here. I blinked hard at the back of his head, expecting him to disappear in a wisp of smoke. Instead, he groaned and said, “Fuck. Blue shell.”
“NO!” Phoebe wailed. He laughed, glancing over at her, catching me in his periphery. He spun around, his chest rising in a tight breath.
“You guys keep focusing on each other,” Noah said, turning his controller forcefully. “And I’ll keep winning. This works for me.”
Dex’s mouth tipped into a devastating smile, turning my mind and limbs to jelly. My tote slipped from my arm, landing with a loud thunk on the floor. Phoebe jumped and wheeled around.
“Vi!” She scrambled to pause the game. “Hey! You’re home!”
Noah grinned and set his controller down, giving us his full attention.
Dizziness engulfed me. I managed a slight nod, my focus never leaving the man on the far end of the couch whose hair had a teensy bit more length to it and a bit of curl, his face semirecently shaved, that easy smile tugging at his lips.
Something had changed in him, maybe the same thing that had turned over inside me these last few months.
Without the tension in his shoulders or the tightness in his eyes, he seemed more at peace than I’d ever seen him.
My body was drawn to him. I remember you, it seemed to say.
“Is this okay?” Phoebe said. “I figured it probably would be, but—”
“Yes.” My voice came out too loud, so I cleared my throat and tried again. “Of course it’s okay. Hi. You’re here. You’re home.”
Dex’s smile lit something up in me. I could’ve produced actual light. “I’m home,” he said. “Sorry it took so long.”
“Oh!” Phoebe smacked her palm against her forehead. “Noah! Remember you were gonna show me that thing?”
Noah hummed and climbed to his feet. “Oh, sure. That thing.”
Phoebe hurled herself over the side of the couch, bounding up to me. “I know you don’t love surprises,” she whispered. “But I figured this one might be okay.”
I squeezed her elbow. “Thanks, Bee.”
They slipped out the door, easing it shut behind them. Silence echoed. Dex stood up and rounded the couch, his gray button-up loose at the collar, jeans dark, his sleeve folded up over his cast.
“Hey,” he said softly. I padded over, not stopping until he was right there and I could fling myself into his arms, knocking him back a couple steps. He lifted me up, squeezing me even tighter than I held him.
“You’re here,” I said into his neck. His hand brushed up my back, his fingers sliding along my nape.
“I’m here.”
“I missed you so much.”
Impossibly, he held me tighter. “I missed you, too, Vi. So much.”
“I know we have stuff to talk about. But can we just…”
“Yeah. Yeah. Another minute.”
In reality, it was another three and a half minutes. It felt so good to touch him again, to simply be in his presence. I could feel myself glowing, could see him glowing right back at me.
I wanted to jump his bones. Badly.
“So, we should…” I said, and he nodded, the fingers of his opposite hand tracing one of the countless stickers and signatures accosting his cast. I made a mental note to sign it later, after the more pressing matters.
“Yeah.” He took a breath, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he met my gaze. “Violet, you have to know I regret it. Not telling you about Benji. I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“I spent the last year convinced I was fine,” he told me.
“Because I didn’t talk about him and I rarely let myself think about him.
It was so bad at first, it didn’t feel survivable.
I needed the repression to get through the day.
And then I just… kept at it. It worked, or it felt like it did.
I ran. I kept running, thinking if I went far enough, it wouldn’t catch up.
And then you came out of the blue and you wouldn’t let me run anymore.
“It was terrifying, Vi. You were terrifying,” he went on, shaking his head.
“You felt everything so loudly. You didn’t care who knew.
It was intimidating, but it was also addicting.
You were… fascinating to me. Someone who lost so much, who wasn’t afraid to feel every second of it, and still believe in a bright side.
” He stepped closer to me, his hand sliding up my neck to cradle my jaw.
“At first, I tried to pass it off as morbid curiosity, but the more time I spent with you, the more time I wanted to spend with you. I knew I needed to tell you, but I wasn’t sure if I’d already taken too long to do it, or if I could do it at all in the state I was in.
That letter was suffocating me. It felt like Benji was sitting on my shoulders.
He was everywhere and it was too much, but it was also… ”
“Good,” I whispered, finishing his thought. “You realized it was good to have his memory around. You didn’t need to repress it.”
He nodded. “But that didn’t make it easier. I rehearsed what I would say in the shower and I’d just end up crying like a baby, right back where I was when I found out he was gone. Like I hadn’t moved an inch.”
“It feels like that sometimes.” I swallowed hard and placed my hand over his. “I think it’s always gonna take our breath away. But we are further from it, Dex. The fact that you’re talking to me about this, that you’ve been opening up to me, is proof of that.”
He exhaled and leaned in to press his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I wish I’d told you.”
“I get it.” My hands moved to his shirt, making fists around the fabric. “I really do.”
“And what I said at the lookout.” He dragged himself back to look in my eyes. “It was pathetic and I was drowning, so I tried to push you away. I won’t do that again.”
I smiled. “We’ll make new mistakes.”
“Better ones,” he promised.
“I’m going to kiss you,” I said. His eyes flared. “But I want to know something first.”
“Anything.”
No hesitation whatsoever. I knew now he would’ve read off his Social Security number and his mother’s maiden name if I’d asked.
“Should I call you Dex or August?” His expression softened and he pulled me in closer, his lips brushing my cheek.
“My friends started calling me Dex in college and it stuck. A lot of people in my life call me August. My family. Co-workers. Bree when I piss her off.” He hesitated. “Benji.”
“You don’t have a preference?”
“Nah. Whatever you want.”
“Maybe I’ll just start calling you ‘gorgeous.’ Throw out the others entirely.”
I felt his teeth graze my cheek as he grinned. “I do admire innovation.”
I turned my head, slipping my mouth against his. A rough sound ground from his throat and he hauled me up, anchoring me with one hand on my ass; I gasped into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist, fingers tangling in his hair as he pressed me into cool metal.
“I was gonna take my time,” he said against my lips. An involuntary whine left me. “But now I’m thinking about fucking you against the door.”
I nodded furiously. “I’m good with that.”
As if on cue, someone knocked on the other side, rattling against my back. Dex groaned and dropped his head to my shoulder. Pushing down the disappointment, I twisted around to look through the peephole. Arden.
“Just a sec,” I murmured, squeezing Dex’s shoulders. He set me down and scanned the room casually, as if he wasn’t sporting an impressive hard-on. I cracked the door open, poking my head through. “What’s up?”
Arden stared at me for a moment. “Are you… naked?”
“No.”
“Is he inside you right now? I swear to god—”
“No.” I opened the door a bit farther to prove I was clothed. “Thanks for the heads-up, by the way.”
“You mean like the heads-up you gave me when Noah was proposing?” Her face split into a grin. “I was just letting you know that Phoebe’s at our place. You guys can come over when you’re… finished.”
I slammed the door. I could hear her laughing through it.
“Sorry,” I said, shooting Dex a smile. He nodded, his eyes locked on something over my shoulder. I twisted. The carving: At least tomorrow. I moved into him, pressing up on my toes to kiss his jaw. “You didn’t tell me Benji was an optimist.”
“That was me, actually.”
He smiled so softly, it felt as if every frayed end in my world tied itself up. I kissed him again, slower this time, taking time to memorize and relish. I would learn new things about him every day and I would show him how much it meant to me to know him.
To love him.
“And you say you don’t believe in fate,” I whispered. He buried his face in my hair, hand sliding over my hip. “Can I do something really quick?”
“You can do anything you want to me.”
I laughed and patted his cheek, making my way over to the kitchen junk drawer. He tilted his head, watching as I brandished a Sharpie, grinning. “I want to sign your cast.”
He held his arm out. I bent over it, inspecting the signatures—no one really signed their names, instead jotting little messages or jokes or insults.
Phoebe doodled a little caricature of Dex, basically an angry stick figure.
In the blank space beside it, I wrote: At least tomorrow with a little heart underneath. Dex studied it, eyes heavy.
“That message on the door saved my life some days,” I whispered. “And it was you.”
“I thought about it sometimes,” he said quietly. “It was our thing, me and Benji. Today sucked, but at least we have tomorrow. And then I didn’t care anymore.” He pressed a soft kiss to my temple, lingering there. “You make me so fucking excited for tomorrow.”
And that was it, wasn’t it? The ultimate thing I could add to those lists of threes, the one good constant: There was always tomorrow.
And then a tomorrow after that. And some days it felt like it didn’t matter, you would wake up feeling the same for weeks, months, years.
It was so hard to get unstuck, to even remember the sun would rise again.
I’d spent nine months spiraling, caught in the miserable time loop of grief, and now, suddenly, a new day.
I was excited for tomorrow too. And the one after.