“But I want you just like this, Angel. Just the way you are. Perfect.”
“Yeah? You know, you’re not supposed to talk until your vocal cords heal. I won’t tell Chase though.” She smiles, it’s a shy smile that hides how broken she is. “He’s supposed to teach me a few signs tomorrow. I didn’t know you knew sign language, but I guess that makes sense since you did the whole mute kid thing.”
She kisses me again, and it’s slow. Like she’s trying to tell me everything will be okay even if she doesn’t believe it herself.
“I love you,” I whisper against her lips. She lays her head on my chest and I drift off to sleep again.
CHAPTER34
TILL FOREVER FALLS APART
ASHE, FINNEAS
I’m cleaningup the tornado that is Bex staying in my living room when there’s a knock at my door. It’s so soft I almost don’t hear it over the music. I open the door to find James, struggling to hold a box between his hip and good arm. I take the box from him and put it on the table as he stands by the door. He looks like a lost puppy, and it’s likely because I’ve been distant lately.
“You know you can come in.”
“Yeah, I…didn’t want to bother you.”
“You’re not. Sam gave me some time off to deal with things.”
He walks over, sitting on the other side of the table. “It’s, uhm, it’s for you.”
I open the box and it’s full of painting supplies. Jars and tubes of paint, brushes, things that I’m not even sure what they are. “You might have brought the wrong box.” I mumble and hold up one of the jars.
I feel bad pointing it out to him because he’s been trying so hard—a little too hard at times—to act like he’s fine. I can see how much pain he’s still in and every time he winces or moves strangely, I just remember that I’m the reason this happened. How do you tell the man you’re pretty sure you’re hopelessly in love with that he’s a daily reminder of the worst night of your life? Every new scar on his body is there because of knowing me.
“No, that’s the right box.” He pulls out a jar of red paint and holds it up. “We can start with the wall behind the Rent art piece you did.”
“Start what?”
“Our therapy?” He puts the jar down and runs his hand through his hair. It’s grown so much, it’s almost to his shoulders. Natalie has offered to come over and cut it, but he declines every time. “Your therapist helps, I can tell. But, I thought we could work on painting the walls here. Maybe a gigantic mural or even just a solid color. Something we could do together. Something, to…” his voice trails off and he mumbles the rest, “Are you leaving me?”
“What?”
“You’re pulling away. You don’t mean to, I can’t even blame you. I wanted to do something special for you, with you. I want to help you get yourself back. Get us back.” He frows at the box of paints. “I don’t even know if it will work, but it’s the only damn thing I’ve got.”
He’s right. I’m a shell and I have been since that night. I don’t laugh unless it’s fake. I haven’t done a single design since Sam pulled us both off the project without an explanation beyond ‘it’s nothing personal’.I’m not me anymore. I’m even doubting if I love James, which is stupid because I do and he’s done nothing wrong.
“Oh, uhm. Painting might need to wait. Mom wants to sign the place over to me, but that’s in limbo and, frankly, I don’t want to stay here. Bex and I are going out tomorrow to look at apartments while you’re at your physical therapy appointment. She said she found a few I can afford and might like.”
“Oh.”
I didn’t even tell him I was moving out—I guess I’m pulling away from everyone faster than I thought.
“Yeah.” I take the jars and put them carefully back into the box, sealing it back up. “The lawyer is looking over the paperwork and trying to see what can be done. If I keep it, I’ll rent it out. I’ve always hated it here because they owned it; it was never mine.”
“That makes sense. It’s probably weird living next door to your new therapist, too.”
He’s picking at the cast on his wrist, not wanting to make eye contact. He’s two feet away from me and it feels like we’re miles apart. The silence is no longer comfortable, it’s deafening. I stand and go to pick the box back up when he says something I don’t catch. “What?”
His glistening eyes meet mine when he lifts his head. “Stay with me.”
“Like, right here where I’m standing? James, I need to?—”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, move in with me.”
“James, I don’t…that’s probably a terrible idea.”
