“How about a hundred thousand dollars to Mercy in Justice?”
“Whoa!” Miguel says. “That’ll do!”
The guys start elbowing each other, but Joey’s not impressed. “If you have a hundred thousand, I bet you have two hundred thousand.”
It sounds like a small animal is dying in Oliver’s throat, but he nods, changes something on his phone, and then holds it up again. And sure enough, there on the screen is a donation page that showstwo hundred thousand dollars.
Oliver holds his thumb over the “Donate Now” button. “Is that okay?”
I’m not sure who he’s asking—Joey, Uncle Bill, me, the universe—but we all shout, “YES!”
He laughs and hits the button.
And everyone cheers.
The guys rush Oliver, but this time, there’s no hint of threat. Miguel and Mike hoist him on their shoulders, and everyone laughs as they bring him over to me and drop him at my feet. Then they back off, giving us space.
I hardly notice the tears on my cheeks, but what I do notice is the cozy, warm feeling of love swelling in my chest.
Oliver’s here for me.
He did this for me.
“I love you, Poppy Grace,” he says, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear and then cupping my face so tenderly, it makes me go weak in the knees. And ankle. “If I’ve lost you, I’ll never forgive myself. Nothing on earth matters more to me than you.”
I want to tell him how much I love him, too, but something occurs to me, something painful. “You saw my messages onBeyond Justice, and you didn’t respond. It hurt, Oliver. Why didn’t you answer?”
“That isn’t the whole story. I saw your message after a huge blow up fight with my granddad, and when I wanted to answer, Darren Murphy came over, and I dropped my phone between the seat and console, and my stupid big hands couldn’t fit, and by the time I finally grabbed it, you were already gone. I felt sick. I didn’t know how to find you and make it right. ”
His clear guilt and obvious pain soften my remaining hurt. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“It is,” he insists, grabbing my hands. “It is a big deal. I should never have made you feel small. And I never will again. If you’ll take me back,” he adds.
I hesitate. He’s saying all the right things, but there’s so much he’s not saying. “I hid a lot of things from you—my dad, my work, my pain. I’ve hidden it from everyone. It’s easier to hide than it is to be seen and rejected. At least when I was hiding, if someone didn’t want me, I could say it’s because they didn’t know me. The people who’ve known me best haven’t always treated me best.”
He winces, and his eyes go glassy, like he’s fighting tears. “I hate that. I hate even thinking about it.”
When I speak, my voice is so small, I can barely hear it. “I don’t want to hurt anymore.”
A single tear spills out the corner of his eye, and his arms wrap around me, hugging me. “I never want you to hurt again. I know I’ll mess up, but I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. If you’ll let me.”
I’m crying again, and Oliver kisses my head and holds me until the tightness of his embrace makes something in my chest finally give way. The hug undoes me, unravels me. All the threads I’ve kept wound so tightly come loose, falling into his arms in a tangled mess he doesn’t let go of.
But as I fall apart, he shifts, and somehow his arms gather me back in, gentle and steady. It’s like he’s reweaving me—thread by thread—into something whole again. Not new, but stronger where the seams used to split.
Stitching me back together, like I’d hoped he would.
One of his hands cradles the back of my head to him, while the other wraps around my waist. He’s so warm. When did I get so cold? I grip his tuxedo jacket and let myself dissolve into him. My tears soak through his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to care. He just holds me. “I was already half in love with you months ago online, and the other half only took a few days.”
I laugh, my cheek to his chest, feeling how fast his heart beats and marveling that it could possibly be for me.
“I should have asked to meet you months ago,” Oliver says. “But I was so scared, Poppy. You’ve seen me at my worst this week. I didn’t know someone could care about me after seeing even half as much as you did.”
“I should have told you the second you mentioned Mercy in Justice who I was,” I say, hoping the words can reach him over the new song: “Space Age Love Song” by Flock of Seagulls. One of my all time favorites.
“You were probably afraid I’d bite your head off.”
“I wasn’tnotafraid of that.” I say with a light laugh. “Maybe not right then, but I could have told you later.”
