43. Past Tense
FORTY-THREE
PAST TENSE
? I found - Amber Run
CLIO
All it takes is two simple words, and I break. A waterfall of tears cascades down my cheeks as every pent-up emotion comes rushing out of me. Two days’ worth of fear and worry.
His gaze softens, and he lifts his uninjured arm. “Come here, baby.”
Without an ounce of hesitation, I nestle into him, laying my palm over his heart. I hear the door open and shut and realize someone must’ve left the room.
“I missed you,” he murmurs against my hair. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”
I can’t bring myself to say the words back, but I feel them with every fiber of my being. The anger fled when the cookie jar shattered, and now all that’s left is the pain. He runs his hand through my hair, and the familiar, gentle touch grounds me. He smells all wrong, though. I hate it.
His gaze roves over my face, a fraction of a movement each time.
I press my hand to his cheek and run my thumb across his beard, forcing him to meet my gaze. “What are you doing?”
“Forty-two.”
“Hm?”
His fingertip traces the bridge of my nose. “You have six new freckles.”
“I’ve been out in the sun a lot lately.”
“I haven’t seen the sun in weeks, but things are looking brighter now.”
My foolish heart stutters, but I refuse to let on how his tenderness affects me.
“I’m so sorry. For everything. I thought by letting you go I was saving you, but all I did was hurt us both.”
I sit up and swipe at my damp cheeks—the tears have all but dried now. He reaches for my hand, but I pull away.
“Ok. I deserve that.”
“This isn’t us getting back together. You don’t get a free pass because you almost fucking died. This is just me checking on the man I—”
“Say it. Say it in the light of day when you know I can hear you this time.”
I look him dead in the eyes, and I don’t waver. “Loved.”
It’s a low blow… and a lie. Despite my best efforts, I haven’t stopped loving him.
There’s no on/off switch for that sort of thing, though some days I wish there was.
For two days I worried he might not wake up, and the last thing I would have said to him would’ve been spewed in anger.
Now he’s all but asking me if I love him, and I can’t give him that.
Maybe it’s petty, and if it is, then so be it.
I’ve spent my whole life pleasing everyone else; I think I’ve earned a bit of pettiness.
“I made a mistake.”
“The end or the beginning?”
“Both.” My stomach roils, and I start to leave, but he frantically grabs onto my wrist and holds me there. “Wait.” His thumb skates along my pulse point, and I melt in spite of myself. “Let me explain.”
“Explain what? Explain why you keep driving the knife in deeper?”
“No. What I mean to say is that this should’ve been real from the start.
If I’d only had the courage to tell you how I felt, maybe none of this would’ve happened.
But as it has been pointed out by several people over the last few days, I’m a coward.
I was convinced loving you would only end in pain. ”
I huff out an indignant breath. “How did that work out for you?”
“It’s Hell.”
I sink onto the side of the bed.
“Is it Hell for you, too?” he asks in a much more subdued voice.
I want to pretend I’m fine. Why should I give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurts to wake up without him? But I’ve never been much of a liar, so I nod.
He takes my hand in his and runs his finger over the spot where there used to be a ring. “We can start over.”
I peer into his pained blue eyes. “I don’t want to start over. I don’t want to erase all of the good memories just so you can absolve yourself of the bad ones.”
He chews on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t want that either.”
“Then we’re at an impasse.” I pull my hand away, missing him all over again as the ache in my chest becomes unbearable. “You weathered every one of my storms with me. You should’ve trusted me enough—loved me enough to do the same.”
After nearly a full week in the hospital, they finally discharged Noah with instructions to take it easy and avoid anything resembling strenuous activity, including things that require intense concentration.
Turns out he has a concussion. Having his brain jostled might account for his sudden change of heart.
In the interim, Lexi and I moved back to the apartment. There are still two weeks left of summer break, and she’s been spending every spare moment with Hayden before school starts back up.
I text Emma to ask about Noah more than I should, but the thought of losing another person I care about jarred me, and regardless of how things ended, I still care deeply for him.
The nights alone are the worst, knowing he’s just on the other side of the wall and I can’t reach him.
Sometimes if I listen closely, I can hear him reading Auggie a bedtime story.
I flick off the living room light and head down the hallway, peering into Lexi’s room. “I’m off to bed. Do you need anything?”
She stops texting and peers up at me, her face illuminated by the glow of her phone screen. “I’m good. Night, Mom.”
“Tell Hayden I said hi and don’t stay up too late.”
“Yes, mother,” she says sarcastically.
“Good night, my darling daughter,” I tease back.
I pull the door shut behind me and pad into my bedroom. I bought new bedding when we moved back because the old ones held too many memories. My lips curve into a bemused smile as I pull back the comforter. I wonder what Noah would say if he saw the new bed sheets covered in strawberries.
I sigh, slipping under the covers with my back propped against the pillows.
“Clio.” My name is but a whisper on the other side of the wall. “Are you there?”
I pinch my eyes shut as my chest tightens. I can’t bring myself to respond.
“I miss you. I know there’s no fixing this, but I just need you to know you were never too much for me. You were—are—everything.”
A silent tear tracks down my cheek, and I press my palm against the wall, wishing I could feel him on the other side. It’s everything I’ve been waiting to hear, but it’s too little, too late.
NOAH
Lexi: Please don’t give up on her
Me: What can I do?
Lexi: It’s her birthday next month
Me: I know
Lexi: So get your shit together.
Me: Ok
Me: I love her Lex
Lexi: Duh.