Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Henry
I shouldn't be here. That's all I could think as I watched Savvy struggle with her keys, the glow from River Bend Books' window casting shadows across her face. All those years of wondering, regretting, and telling myself it was for the best. And now, I was hiding in the darkness like a stalker.
She'd been unsteady on her feet the moment Maddy and Ivy had disappeared around the corner, their laughter still echoing up the street. Part of me wondered if I should leave, pretend I hadn't seen how she'd swayed against the door, the fumbling dance of her hands as she tried to fit the key into the lock.
But then she stumbled, pitching backward with a startled cry, and I was moving before I could second-guess myself. I took the stairs two at a time, catching her before she hit the ground.
"Got you." The words scraped raw in my throat as her body curved into mine, fitting against me like the missing piece of a puzzle I'd been trying to forget. My arms tightened instinctively around her waist, muscle memory making fools of us both.
She melted against me for a heartbeat—one perfect, terrible moment where time seemed to stop—before going rigid. "No." Her palm pressed against my chest, and I knew she could feel my heart racing beneath her fingers like it always had at her touch. "Can't be you. Universe isn't that cruel."
"Pretty sure it is." I repositioned her, cradling her against me like something precious and dangerous. One arm beneath her shoulders, the other under her knees—the same way I'd carried her through summer storms and across dew-damp grass, over thresholds we'd dreamed about but never crossed. Her head found the hollow of my throat as if she'd never forgotten the way she fit there, and the familiar feel made my chest ache with everything we'd lost.
"Put me down." Her voice wavered, but the way her fingers curled into my shirt betrayed her. Her head tilted against me like some of her still remembered this and us .
"I hate you," she whispered, her voice unsteady with defiance—contradicted by the way she stayed close. "I hate that being near you still feels like home."
That hit like a gut punch. Home. Wasn’t that what I’d wanted to be for her? The thing I hadn’t been brave enough to fight for?
"You're bleeding." A thin line of blood trickled down her leg where she'd scraped it against the railing.
"Don't care." She jabbed a finger at my chest. "Why are you here? Are you stalking me? Because that's..." She swayed in my arms, frowning as she searched for the word. " That's bad. Terrible." She sighed, her shoulders sagging. "I wished bad things on you. Like warts. Or a third arm."
"No warts. No third arms," I said, retrieving her keys from where they’d fallen. "Let’s get you inside before you hurt yourself worse."
Getting her door open while holding her proved challenging, especially with her alternating between going completely boneless in my arms and suddenly trying to escape. Adjusting my grip, I nudged the door open with my shoulder and stepped inside.
As I crossed into her apartment, it hit me—this was Savvy's space, her life after me, and every detail was like a clue I wasn’t sure I wanted to decipher.
I adjusted her, her head falling against my shoulder, and entered the living room. A worn leather couch sat across from a wall of mismatched frames. Colorful throw pillows were scattered haphazardly like she’d tossed them there in a hurry. A large bookshelf dominated one wall, crammed with titles ranging from classic literature to modern thrillers. I recognized a few of her favorites from college. Their spines were creased, and covers faded from countless re-reads.
But the photos were what caught my eye.
Still holding her, I moved closer to the frames on the shelf. Snapshots of a life I hadn’t been part of stared back at me—Savvy and her parents at her college graduation, their faces alight with pride and emotions too big for words. Then there was Savvy, Maddy, and Ivy, dressed in Halloween costumes: Savvy as a mischievous pirate with a crooked hat and plastic sword, Maddy as a glitter-covered fairy with wings askew, and Ivy as a zombie bride, veil trailing as they laughed at some unheard joke .
I tore my gaze away, my arms aching from holding her.
"Where's your first aid kit?" I asked, my voice strained but steady.
"Not telling." She crossed her arms—or at least tried to—before grabbing my shirt to steady herself. "Because you’re not the one who gets to care for me anymore. You lost that right somewhere between ‘forever’ and ‘ghost mode activated.’"
Christ. Drunk Savvy had always been honest, but this was like taking a razor blade straight to the jugular. “Come on, Savvy. Let me get a Band-Aid.”
"Bathroom," she sighed as if conceding some small battle. "Under the sink. Not because I’m helping you. I just ... don’t want to bleed on my new rug. Mom would kill me."
Navigating her unfamiliar space, I carried her down the hall, every step feeling like an intrusion. The bathroom door was ajar, light spilling into the hallway. I shifted her gently, setting her on the counter, her legs dangling over the edge as she blinked up at me, unfocused.
"This is weird," she murmured as I wet a washcloth. "You're being weird. Why are you being weird in my bathroom? And why is my bathroom spinning?"
"Because you probably drank your weight in wine," I replied, keeping my voice light as emotions churned.
“No,” she muttered, clutching the counter's edge for balance. “Because you’re Henry. My Henry. No, wait. Not my Henry. Just … Henry.”
Her fingers brushed my collar as I dabbed the scrape with a damp washcloth. She winced, her knee twitching like she wasn’t sure whether to pull away or hold still.
“That hurts.”
“It’swater, Savvy,” I said, steadying my voice .
“Well, it doesn’t feel like water; it’s like fire,” she shot back, slumping against the mirror with a dramatic huff.
“You’re impossible.”
“I am not impossible,” she argued, dragging out the word like it was my fault. “You’re heavy-handed. Like a caveman. A caveman with stupid, nice hands…”
Her voice faltered, and her brow furrowed as if she had realized what she said. I focused on securing the bandage, ignoring the way a knot formed in my chest.
“Let’s get you to bed,” I said.
Her bedroom was down the hall, the door ajar. I nudged it open with my foot, moonlight spilling across a space that was unmistakably Savvy—books on nearly every surface, a reading nook under the window, and fairy lights glowing faintly above the bed.
“You still make terrible life choices,” she mumbled as I set her gently on the mattress. “Like showing up here. Like still smelling like you did back then. Like making me remember … when I don’t want to.”
“Sleep, Savvy.” I pulled the quilt over her, my hand lingering for a moment on her shoulder.
“You can’t tell me what to do anymore,” she whispered, curling onto her side, hair spilling across the pillow. “You lost that right when you decided I wasn’t worth your time.”
The words hit like a physical blow. I stayed there for a beat, watching her breathing slowly, her expression relaxing in sleep.
“You were worth everything,” I murmured, the confession slipping out. But she was gone to the world, leaving me alone in the silence.
I stood by her bed a moment longer, exhaling slowly. “You always did make a place feel like home.” It was a space entirely hers , familiar and foreign, like seeing the outline of someone you used to know.
We needed to talk. There was too much between us now, too much unsaid. And if there was any chance to fix the broken pieces, it would have to start somewhere.
Careful not to wake her, I left the room. In the kitchen, I grabbed a glass and filled it with water, then dug through drawers until I found a bottle of aspirin. I brought them back, setting the glass and the pills gently on her nightstand. She stirred, but her breathing remained steady.
I watched her for another moment. This was Savvy— my Savvy—and yet not mine at all. She’d built a life I’d never been part of, and every inch of this apartment reminded me of that. But it also brought back what we’d once been. We were mornings at Common Grounds spent laughing over coffee, promises that seemed unshakable.
I spotted a notepad on her desk, its corner sticking out from under a stack of books. After a moment’s hesitation, I grabbed it and a black Sharpie.
When I glanced back at her, she turned over, and her bandaged knee slipped into view, catching the light. I couldn’t help myself. A weight settled in my chest as I stared, then I forced myself to move.
I left the Sharpie on the desk, staring at the note one last time before sliding it under the water glass. Exhaling slowly, I told myself it wasn’t just a note but a peace offering.
I left the apartment, locked the door behind me, and stepped into the cool night air. It was sharp against my skin, but it did nothing to ease the ache in my chest. Seeing Savvy like this, getting a glimpse into the life she’d built without me, was a poignant reminder of everything I’d given up. And everything I’d taken from her.
I slid into the driver’s seat of my car and gripped the steering wheel until the strain ached up my arms. All those years of telling myself I’d done the right thing, that walking away had been the only way to protect her—now, I wasn’t so sure.
With the image of her tears burned into my mind, I couldn’t quiet the voice whispering that maybe I’d been wrong all along.