Page 102 of Just One Moment
Hisface crumples but he nods as he backs toward the open doorway, only to pause.
“CanIkeep that?”Henods toward the knitted blanket balled in my hands. “I’mgoing to try.Forus.Idon’t know what it looks like, but whileIsearch for what you—we need—canIkeep something of yours?”
Idon’t know how my tear ducts haven’t dried up yet.Mylip wobbles asIplace it onto the bed, not brave enough to give it to him becauseI’llend up in his arms. “Youhave my heart.That’swhat you’ll keep.”
“It’smy most prized possession,” he says hoarsely before swallowing. “WhatifIcan’t love myself the way you love me?”
“ThenI’llwait.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
graham
Silencewas a friend
Thatquickly turned to a foe
Allbecause of her
IfIthoughtlife was lonely before she walked into it,Idon’t know how to describe the aftermath of her departure.
It’slike spending your days basking in endless sunshine, knowing nothing different, for someone to then lock you away in a windowless, barren dungeon, one hundred feet below ground.
I’mglad she didn’t make me watch her pack, becauseIcertainly couldn’t watch her leave.
IheardJohanna’squiet voice consolingQuinnas she helped her with her suitcase.Justbefore she closed the door, she said, “I’lllook after her,Graham.”
That’smy job,was allIcould think.
Curlywhines and scratches at the door now.Everyminute that’s passed since she left has sent me deeper and deeper intoa world of regret.It’sdark here.ButIswear, in the distance, there’s a speck of light.
Myliving room still holds traces of her.Shesaid this wasn’t goodbye andIbelieve that.Seeingher yellow rain boots still lined up next to my running shoes feeds that hope.
Afterthirty minutes of taking in all the things she left behind,Ican’t stand to be trapped in here for a second longer.
WithCurlyclipped into his harness, we find ourselves on the same bench whereBoothconvinced me to askQuinnto be my fake girlfriend not that long ago.Thebite of the cold air meansIcan feel something other than utter misery.
Mydog jumps onto the bench and lays his head on my thigh with a sad noise.
“Imiss her, too, buddy.”
I’mangry for spiraling the wayIdid and for makingQuinnthinkIwas trying to push her away.WhenIpaid for the repairs on her van,Iknew there was a chance she’d leave, butIalso know how important her freedom and independence are to her.
Afterthe worst night’s sleep,Iexhausted myself on a run this morning untilIstarted to think logically again.
Quinnnever gave me any reason to doubt she would change her mind about our future together.Iwas the one who allowedJenna’swords to burrow into my brain and distort everythingQuinnandIhave built.
Heropinion shouldn’t matter, yetIlet it.Thatshould have stopped the minute she walked out of the door and into the arms of my cousin.Thisagreement withQuinnwas about proving toJennathat she doesn’t hold power over me any longer.SomethingIfailed miserably at.
Asthe chill sets in my bones,Itake in the white bluffs across the bay.Thesomber sky above drowns out any color, making everything look solemn—an accurate depiction of my mood.Eventhe choppy waters smashing against the hulls ofthe boats mimic the banging of my heart against my ribs, screaming at me to see this—myself—differently.
Ilose track of time until a voice interrupts my thoughts.
“CanIjoin you?”
Thesudden appearance of my older brother as he slides onto the bench has my head jerking up.Theusual insult or jabI’dthrow at him for scaring me is too much effort.SoIjust nod.
“Quinn’sat our place,” he says as he settles next to me. “IthoughtI’dgive the girls some space and come find you.”