Chapter 24
TJ
Ihold Lucy as she silently cries into my henley.
I bring my hand up to cup the back of her head and gently stroke her hair.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur before pressing a quick kiss to the crown of her head.
My heart pounds in my chest, protectiveness surging with each pulse.
I wish I could take away all of Lucy’s pain.
I wish I could do something for her right now.
I’m honored she felt safe enough with me to share this part of her story, and her raw honesty steals my breath.
She’s been through so much, and she’s so brave, but I don’t think she’d call herself that.
In my eyes, the fact that she’s still standing—or I guess, slumped into me right now—speaks to her inner strength.
I want to make her see how strong she is …
somehow. I want to make sure she knows she’s not alone. That she matters.
Lucy leans back after a couple minutes and wipes at the mascara that’s bleeding beneath her eyes.
“Thanks,” she says, her voice hoarse from the tears. “I needed that.”
I sit back on my heels, giving her a little space.
“I’m such a mess,” she says and hits me with a look when I start to tell her she isn’t.
“I am. It’s been a really hard year. I miss writing and writing well.
That’s always been how I’ve coped, so it’s felt extra empty the past few months, not feeling like I can even do that.
” She pulls her knees up, hugging them to her chest.
“I get that. I can’t imagine not having football as my outlet.”
She nods and then lets out a small laugh. “I feel like I just laid myself bare. All my wounds right out in the open for you here.”
Her cheeks flush, and I don’t want her to regret her openness. I like knowing what she’s going through. I’m humbled that she shared all that with me. I want her to know I see her, and in a small way, I get her.
“Would it make you feel better if I told you something about me?”
She looks at me with wide eyes, still glassy with emotion. “Only if you want to.”
The thing is, I actually do want to. I don’t overthink it.
I summon my courage. I want to give Lucy a piece of me, something to go along with the shreds of her heart she placed in the space between us.
I take a deep breath. “My girlfriend in college passed away the week before Christmas our sophomore year.”
Lucy’s lips part in surprise, and her hand flies up to cover her mouth. “TJ, I’m so sorry.”
I swallow down the knot in the back of my throat. “She was alone in the house she and her roommates rented. It was a total dump. Classic college house. Their landlord was kinda the worst.” I shake my head.
I’ve thought about how I should have made her move.
I should have confronted the guy when, time after time, he didn’t fix things when they asked him to.
He was negligent, and no one called him out on it.
If I had, maybe things would have been different.
Maybe Tess would still be here today. I blink and find Lucy with her head tipped to the side, compassion in her gaze.
I plow ahead. “She had texted me that she was taking a nap. The rest of her roommates finished their finals and headed home earlier in the day. I waited to hear from her when she finished her exam, but she”—I swallow—“never texted me again.”
Lucy reaches out and grabs my hand, squeezing it hard.
“When she didn’t show up for her final exam that night, one of her friends from the class tried to reach her, and when she couldn’t, she got in touch with her parents. They ended up finding her in her bed. She died from carbon monoxide poisoning.”
“Oh, TJ.” Lucy swallows and shakes her head. “She was so young.”
“She was the best the world had to offer. Bright and funny and curious, but kind and always looking out for people.” I cut myself off when my voice cracks.
I haven’t let myself dwell on Tess in several years, but it’s not difficult to remember what a light she was, and how it felt so cruel that she was taken so soon.
“I sometimes think if I had been there with her, I could have done something.”
I don’t admit that out loud very often. Probably haven’t said it in years. I wish I could have done something—anything—to help her.
“Or you might have died too,” Lucy says quietly after a moment. “It’s hard not to hunker down in the place of regrets, trust me, I get it. But it doesn’t change what happened. What happened sucks.”
I huff out a breath. “It really does. I still feel like I should have taken care of her somehow.”
Lucy presses her lips together and looks at me with a furrowed brow.
“What?”
She shakes her head slightly. “I think if Tess was here today, she’d say you did take care of her. She wouldn’t blame you. It was an awful accident, and I’m so sorry for you and for Tess’s family.” She pulls in a breath. “Are you still in touch with them?”
My phone burns in my pocket where the email from Tess’s mom is waiting for my response.
I think about Tess’s parents and how they took me in and treated me like their own son.
I’ve kept in touch with them, but only over the phone and via email.
I haven’t seen them in person since the funeral.
I gave all my focus to football. I didn’t graduate, instead choosing to enter the NFL draft the spring of my junior year.
I’ve been in Green Bay playing for the River Foxes ever since.
I know it’s a lousy excuse. Tess’s family lives in the suburbs of Chicago. It’s a three-hour drive. Hardly insurmountable, even with my schedule.
“I’ve been cowardly.” I glance at Lucy, my cheeks heating.
She releases her grip and brings her hands up to cup my face. “Not you. You’re fearless, isn’t that what you told me the night we met?”
“I lied,” I whisper, relishing the feel of her soft skin on my coarse cheeks.
“I’m afraid that people I love will always leave me.
It’s why I haven’t dated seriously since Tess died.
” I gulp down my rising emotion. “I don’t know if I can handle losing someone again, so I haven’t gotten close to another woman since Tess.
” I blink and meet her gaze. It’s open and kind, and I suddenly feel brave.
“Not until getting to know you, actually. Thanks for being my friend, Lu. Thanks for being here.” My voice cracks.
She presses her lips together as fresh tears spring to her eyes. “I’m really glad to be your friend.” She swallows. “You’re the first person I’ve let in in a long time, too.”
“I know you said you haven’t thought of hurting yourself, but I’m going to check in on you, because I don’t want you to leave.”
Her fingers press into my skin. “I don’t mind. But you can trust me when I say that I’m not going anywhere.”
I nod, and our gazes stay locked in. Lucy’s eyes are bright with unshed tears, gold flecks sparking against dewy blades of grass.
“Thank you for telling me about Tess,” Lucy says after a second. “I’m guessing she’s the woman in the photo on your shelves at your house.”
“That’s her,” I say.
Lucy nods.
“You also probably noticed my pathetic Christmas tree when you were at my place.”
“Not gonna lie, I wondered about that. And about your comment when you walked in downstairs.” Lucy scoots back and sits crisscross on the edge of the bed. “Guessing the timing of the holidays is tough for you.”
I stretch my arms over my head. “Getting the news of Tess’s death five days before Christmas put a damper on everything.
My parents’ car accident was also in December, so it’s never been my family’s favorite time of the year.
Gram and Pa tried to make happy memories for me growing up, and I didn’t always hate Christmas.
I still don’t hate Christmas,” I amend. “It feels like a heavy time, and truthfully, I haven’t really had anyone to share the weight of it with.
” I chuckle nervously. “That came out sounding way more vulnerable than I intended.”
“Don’t apologize. I think I understand.” Lucy’s eyes take on a faraway look.
“My dad and I used to cut down our own Christmas tree every year. It was one of my favorite traditions, but I haven’t done that in years.
Ruby, my stepmom, prefers a fake tree. That’s what we’ve had since my dad passed.
I haven’t cut down a tree in over a decade. ”
She’s quiet for a moment, looking lost in memories of the past until she blinks, focusing her gaze on me and offering me a small smile.
My heart surges in my chest, beating more quickly with a desire to give something more to Lucy. “Want to go and cut down a tree with me?”
Her eyes go wide. “I don’t want to do anything that’s painful for you.”
The thought of getting a Christmas tree and putting it up in my house has always felt like a betrayal of Tess, but sitting here, staring at Lucy, there’s a voice in my head that sounds a lot like Tess saying, Go, take the girl to the tree farm, you big oaf. Live, laugh, love.
“Live, laugh, love,” I say slowly.
Lucy’s forehead creases, and a huff of a laugh escapes her lips. “What’s that?”
A sense of peace comes over me, and I smile for real. “It’s this dumb sign I have in my house.”
“No, I know. I saw it when I was there. I just didn’t know why you were saying it now.”
I smirk. “First of all, I’m starting to think you might have gone through my drawers when I wasn’t around, Lu.
” I wag my brows to let her know I’m teasing, but it doesn’t stop her cheeks from turning pink.
“Second, I’m quoting it because Tess and I used to joke about that.
She had that sign in her house, mostly to make fun of it, but we used to say ‘Live, laugh, love,’ whenever we were trying to decide what to do next, or what our next move would be. It was a tongue-in-cheek thing.”
A soft smile spreads across Lucy’s face. “Tess sounds awesome.”
“She was.”
So are you.
The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I rein them in. I’ll make sure Lucy knows she’s incredible, too, but if I say so right now, it’s going to sound like I’m saying it because I have to, or because I feel guilty for bringing up my former girlfriend.
Do I feel guilty? I always expected talking about Tess, reliving some of our time together, especially with another woman, would be upsetting and awkward.
There is some of that, but not like I anticipated.
It feels more like I’m taking a bandage off a burn wound.
The adhesive sticks and pulls from being in place for so long, and it’s not super comfortable, but underneath, the scar is smoothed over and not painful to the touch.
“She would be telling me to stop being a baby and take you to the tree farm. She’d be saying, ‘Live, laugh, and love, TJ. Quit sitting on your butt like an oversized toad.’”
Lucy smiles. “Did she call you an oversized toad often?”
“Nah, I added that myself.” I grin at Lucy. “So what do you say? Should we go for it?”
Lucy’s eyes take on a glint of hope—anticipation. “Let’s do it.”