Chapter 50
SAWYER
As she unzips the bag, the one I recognize as hers from school, gray fabric appears from inside. It’s so familiar.
But it’s impossible.
She reaches in and pulls the garment out all the way. My mouth drops open.
My letterman jacket. I was sure she trashed it years ago.
I can’t breathe as I watch her bring it to her nose and visibly inhale. “It doesn’t smell like you anymore,” she says. “But it did for a long time. I kept it under my bed, and on the worst nights, I’d reach for it. It helped me sleep. It’s the only thing I kept with me from my life in Blue Ridge.”
My heart stutters in my chest, a dull ache forming there.
What she said before was true. This is the evidence. She really did have feelings for me, even back then. Even when I was my worst.
“Why?” I croak.
“Like I said,” she says, voice breaking, “I always knew there was more to you, that it was all an act, that you were going through something, too. Maybe because I could see the signs, because of what I was going through.” She clutches the jacket tighter.
“And this helped me through it all. It was a reminder of the real you.”
I shake my head. “What I went through was nothing like what you did.” I look at the mouse—Squeakers—laying on her bed. “But I get it. Squeakers helped me through stuff too.”
When I look back on my behavior, it makes me sick. I can’t believe she could have seen any good in me, even now, let alone back then. I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve her forgiveness.
But I’m going to take it because I won’t be without her anymore.
I’ll just make damn sure she’s taken care of from now on.
I want her to always feel loved and secure, even when she distances from me again, closes off because of some trigger.
Now that I understand the reason, I’ll be prepared to get us through it, I won’t lose my patience.
I’m going to keep her.
As if she can read my thoughts, she presses her palm to my heart.
“You’re too hard on yourself. You can’t punish yourself for not suffering the same way.
” She pauses. “That night in the rain, when it was just the two of us, I saw the real you, the one I knew existed before I even had proof. The you that I had feelings for. It’s the same you as now, and I love you. ”
My whole body quakes at those words.
“Say it again,” I rasp, stepping into her touch.
She looks up, biting back a smile. “I love you.”
Finally, I let myself touch her. Cupping the back of her neck, I bring her toward me until my lips almost graze hers. “I love you, Brie.”
My lips brush hers, and an electric current moves through me.