Chapter 9 #2
It’d been five whole years since I saw him.
Since we shared the same space. Since we laughed from our souls.
Since he teased me incessantly. I pretended to be annoyed, but in my heart of hearts, I loved it.
It may as well have been a lifetime for how much we’d grown apart, yet I’d give anything for ‘the way we were’ to be present tense.
I gather up all the courage I can muster and whisper, “Where have you been, Thane?”
He clears his throat and swallows so loud I can hear it.
“Well, you know about Costa Rica, and now, California,” he begins slowly, matching my timid descent into a deeper topic.
“I spent about a year in Key West, I worked for nine months on a cruise ship, then I spent nine months backpacking in Europe.”
I snicker. “That last one is so cliché.”
He chuckles. “I know. But I couldn’t help myself. I had a great opportunity to stay when the cruise ship I was on docked for repairs in Spain. I trekked through ten countries and met some really great people along the way.”
My heart aches for how much life he’s lived compared to me. It had always been my dream to see the world, but after Bash and Thane’s accident and Thane’s disappearance from my life, I could barely face a future at all, much less entertain the idea of chasing my dreams.
“From the looks of it, you seem to have it made. I’m glad you’re happy.”
“Who said I’m happy?”
“Your Instagram posts, for one. And the fact that you never came home…” I trail off.
A lump forms in my throat, and I force myself to stop talking before I cry.
No matter what, I can’t let him see how much his leaving hurt me.
If I have it my way, he’ll never know, but he has a way of pulling the truth from me.
There’s a fine line between saying too much and saying too little when it comes to Thane, and I stagger across that line like a drunken clown at a circus.
“Sure, the parties were fun—full of booze and beautiful women. I had amazing experiences all over the world, but not everything is what it seems,” he says softly.
“What do you mean?”
“Parties are different when you’re the only sober one in the room.
And I was surrounded by company, but no one really knew me.
No one permanent was there when I woke up in the morning.
I shared my highlights with strangers, but I faced the lows alone.
I could go anywhere I wanted—whenever I wanted—but there was no one leaving a porch light on for me.
I went everywhere—except home. What do you call that, Fina? Freedom… or loneliness?”
His words are a sledgehammer to my heart. I have been watching him live it up on social media for years, sometimes angry that he had the high life when I could barely move on. I was so blinded by the smiles and scenery in his photos that I failed to notice the sadness in his eyes.
My chest aches, and guilt bubbles from the recesses in my heart to the surface. I used to pride myself on how I knew Thane better than anyone else—even Bash—yet I didn’t see through the facade he put on.
“I left a porch light on for you for years,” I whisper into the darkness.
The silence that follows my quiet confession hangs between us like a heavy fog.
I hold my breath and wait for his response to shatter the stillness.
But instead of words, one warm pinky laces into mine by my side.
The dam of tears I’m holding back breaches the banks, and I swat at them as they fall, hoping the night will hide my emotion.
“Don’t cry,” he says softly, reaching up to find my cheek.
He misses his mark and pokes my eye instead, flipping the switch from crying back to laughing. I’m a mess of emotions, snotting all over myself. Which is another reason to be grateful for the power outage, because I can hide my ugly laugh-crying from him.
“Sorry about that.” He chuckles, handing me a tissue from his nightstand. “I’m not very good at this.”
“That’s okay,” I say softly. “I’m not either.” The vulnerability tugs at me, begging me to dive deeper into the hurt I carry. But I shove it aside. “Tell me more about Europe.”
“Hmm. Where to start? I thought Paris was a bit overrated, and the subways smelled like urine, but the Eiffel Tower sparkled at night. That part was pretty amazing. That made the whole trip worth it, right there. And, of course, the chocolate croissants.
“Then there was Italy. Fina, it was so beautiful, so full of picturesque places and incredible architecture. It was hard to pick a favorite, but I left a little piece of me behind in Venice. When a gondolier’s boat passed by, his songs echoed off the old buildings, making it sound like a whole group of voices, not just one.
And the whole city bustled with life, but the sounds were the low hum of boats instead of honking horns and traffic like New York City.
I read at an outdoor café, sipping espressos all day long, just so I could absorb it all.
It still wasn’t enough. The food is delicious, and people dress so classy.
With purpose, you know? Then there’s the history behind the beauty. You would love it there.”
I lie next to him, wrapped in his velvety voice, gazing in awe at the mental picture his words painted. I could almost taste the flaky French croissants and strong Italian espresso.
His words hang in the air for a beat before he adds, “Everything there reminded me of you. Italy is where I missed you most.”
Inside, I feel like the sparkling Eiffel Tower. I remind myself to breathe and be cool, but it’s everything I can do to hold back and keep my heart safe.
“Fina?” Thane says softly. “Are you asleep?”
I don’t know how to answer. Part of me wants so badly to pour my heart out and mend every inch of broken fence we share.
But the other part is hurt and jaded by love.
She has been my protector for years, keeping my heart locked away and guarded.
I owe her everything. She is the reason I moved forward when I thought I couldn’t take another step.
And she wins. She always wins. So I stay silent and let him think I’ve fallen asleep. It’s better this way. Easier. Safer.
What I’m not prepared for is when he kisses my forehead softly and whispers in the darkness, “The whole thing would’ve been better with you.”