Chapter 31
I can’t stop moving.
If I do for even a second, there’s a fifty-fifty chance I’ll change my mind.
The cake I mixed up earlier is in the oven. Fire pit is going. Blankets out in case she gets cold. I grabbed one of my hoodies if the blankets aren’t enough. The journal filled with poems is wrapped in brown paper and now sits on the side table between the Adirondack chairs.
I pace to my living room, snapping open the blinds to check for headlights. Nothing but the silhouette of trees.
Retreating back to the deck, I adjust the flame level on the fire pit just to give my hands a job. If I stay still, I’m gonna lose my goddamn mind.
“Mutt.” I cluck my tongue. “C’mere, bud.”
He hobbles over and I squat to adjust his bow tie. It’s white and covered in the words, Happy Birthday, written in pink cursive. Mutt leaps up to lick my face, and I scratch that sweet spot, under his chin, grateful for the distraction.
“You look handsome, my man. Ready to party.”
Straightening, I shove my hands in my pockets and stare at the wrapped journal, my stomach rolling and pitching again. I’m about to hand Cassie every broken piece of me, wrapped up with a bow.
Shit. This is a terrible idea.
What if she reads it and finally sees me for exactly what I am, not the version she’s been getting, but everything underneath I’ve held close to the chest?
The parts of myself not even I want to look at.
Or what if the poems about Julie make her realize I’m still stuck, caught in limbo between the past and the present?
Then there’s the ones about her…what if they’re too much, too soon?
A confession she isn’t ready to hear. What made me think this would make a good birthday gift?
One big trauma dump disguised as a birthday present.
Headlights cut through the dark, illuminating my living room, and my stomach rolls.
She’s here.
Every instinct I have, every survival mechanism I’ve built over the last few years, screams for me to grab the journal.
Hide it. Toss it in the fire and burn it.
Tell her we’ll do this another night. But that’s the coward’s way out.
And tonight I’m choosing to be brave. I have to be.
A few seconds pass and my front door opens.
Mutt is off like a rocket, running as fast as his three legs will take him to see her.
But I’m stuck, watching through the glass, my feet leaden.
“Oh my god, Mutt! Look at you!” She drops to her knees, gathering him into her arms. Of course, Mutt attacks her with his tongue and she throws her head back laughing, a bright full sound that cuts straight through me. She’s so damn beautiful it hurts.
I have to do this. I have to try.
She stands and walks my way wearing a curious expression as she steps out onto the deck.
I should say something, literally anything other than stand here like I’ve forgotten how words work.
But the firelight is doing something to her that I wasn’t prepared for.
Cast in golden light, it illuminates her, catching the line of her cheekbones, an orange glow that makes her hazel eyes look like they’re glowing.
Stepping closer to me, she’s now framed by the night sky, so many stars glittering like diamonds around her, and the part of me that’s been locked tight loosens a full turn.
“Liam?” She glances at the setup, the blankets, the fire pit, the wrapped journal, and back to me. “What’s all this?”
I try to answer, but my throat is too tight. All I’m capable of is a weak gesture for her to take a seat. I wait for her to get comfortable before lowering into the one next to her. The fire crackles, a sharp pop echoing in the silence.
“You okay?” Cassie tilts her head, searching my face, and I have to look away. I focus on the fire instead, watching the dancing flames.
“Um—” I clear my throat, my voice sounding like I swallowed gravel. “Yeah, I’m good.”
This isn’t going as planned. My hands are shaking and I know I have to pull myself together. Pressing my palms flat against my thighs, I take several jagged breaths and forcibly meet her eyes.
“When I realized it was your birthday, the only thing I knew to give you was my truth. And I’m scared shitless.”
Cassie doesn’t flinch or even look away. That steadiness, calm in the middle of my storm, gives me the final push I need. I reach for the journal and hold it out to her.
“Happy belated birthday.”
Cassie takes the package from my hands, her fingers brushing mine as she does. The touch is brief, but it’s enough to ground me. To remind me why I’m doing this. For her. For us. For myself.
She looks down at the brown paper, turning it over in her hands. “Liam, you’re scaring me.”
“Just open it,” I manage, my voice still rough. “Please.”
With careful fingers, Cassie peels away the tape, unfolding it like she’s scared of what she’ll find. That makes two of us, angel. The paper falls to the ground and she’s left holding the new leather journal.
She looks up, her eyes already swimming. “What is this?”
“Read it,” I rush out. If I don’t get this out now, I never will.
She flips to the first page, and I see the exact moment she realizes what she’s holding. I’ve spent the last several days selecting which poems would tell my story best. The first one was written a week after Julie’s funeral. It’s raw, barely even a poem. Just words on paper.
Her eyes track down the page, line after line. Watching her read my soul feels more intimate than if she were watching me undress. Tonight I am on full display.
“Liam.” Her voice is barely a breath. “Did you write this?”
I jerk my head in a nod. “Keep going.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then I hear the soft rustle of pages.
I close my eyes, trying like hell to breathe and not think about what she’s reading.
Poems about her are scattered throughout.
When I selected the ones I’d include in this new journal, I wanted to show her that when she entered my life, something inside of me was fundamentally altered.
More pages turn, and I chance a glance at her, at the way her hair falls like a curtain across one shoulder.
Finally, she lifts her head, golden eyes searching mine with terrifying patience.
“Who are these about?”
And there it is. The question I knew was coming, that I’m still not sure I’m ready to answer.
Gripping the arms of the chair, my heart beats like a jackhammer in my chest. I can do this. “I can do this.” I don’t realize I’ve said the words out loud until Cassie puts a hand on mine.
“Hey, hey, hey. I’m here. I promise you can do this.”
After a long pause, I answer her. “Some of them are about you.”
She waits in silence, knowing full well there’s more.
I force myself to keep going, to push the words out even if they feel like shards of broken glass passing through my throat. “And some…” I have to suck in a lungful of air before continuing. “Some are about someone I lost.”
Cassie closes the journal and sets it on her lap, resting her hand on top of it, protective, like she knows how much it cost me to give it to her.
“What was her name?” she asks, a cautious note in her voice.
And just like that, I’m thrown back in time. Glass and metal is everywhere, strewn across the pavement. Squeezing my eyes shut, I open my mouth and offer those two syllables to Cassie.
“Julie.”
There. Her name is out there, undeniable now.
My eyes lift, slowly connecting with Cassie’s as the name falls from my lips into the space between us.
Two syllables that usually die in my throat.
I said her name alone in my living room a few days ago, practicing like a kid learning a new word.
But saying her name for the first time in two years, to someone who matters is different.
She’s watching me with the most profound empathy, a look that says, I see you. All of you. Even the parts you think are dead.
“Will you tell me about her?” she asks, giving my hand a firm squeeze.
And God help me, I do. That one question feels like Julie’s death isn’t the single most defining thing about her.
She was once a living breathing person who I fell in love with.
The words pour out, a levee broken. I tell her about the first time I met Julie.
First day of my senior year. I was sitting in homeroom, when the door opened and in she walked.
“Because my reputation preceded me, the teacher sat me right up front. There was one empty desk and it happened to be directly beside mine.” My voice sounds distant, lost in the past as I stare into the flames.
“Even under the teacher’s nose, I flirted.
Didn’t give a damn.” A smile tugs my lips up at the memory.
“It’s safe to say, she was not as into me as I was her. ”
That day is so clear it hurts, but I laugh through the pain. “I handed her my phone with a scribbled out note that said I think my phone is broken. It doesn’t have your number in it.”
Cassie lets out a startled laugh, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Liam, that’s the worst.”
I nod my response. “She thought so, too. She stood, head held so high, and took it to Mr. Sweetwater’s desk. I had two days’ detention, right off the bat.”
Cassie listens with rapt attention as I tell about finally winning Julie over, taking her to prom, losing our virginity that same night.
“Josie rented us a hotel room since we weren’t old enough.
Julie and I told our parents we were staying with friends.
Dad didn’t buy it, though. He said something like ‘I didn’t fall off the turnip truck yesterday’ and slipped condoms into the glove box of my truck with a warning to wrap it up. ”