The hard slap of boots crunching on loose gravel makes me lift my head. I freeze, eyes widening as Levi’s long stride eats up the distance between us, and then slip my journal into my bag. His face is a thundercloud, shoulders bunched almost to his ears, his body a tight coil of contained tension under hisfaded blue mechanic coveralls. He jerks to a halt in front of me, his jaw flexing in determination as he slaps a hand against the top of the game table, a copy of Matthew Perry’s memoir that had been standing up now falling on its face.
“What is this?” Levi asks in a controlled tone that makes my skin tingle.
My gaze darts down to his hand, the envelope holding my letter pressed between his palm and the tabletop. I lift my eyes and swallow.
“What is this, Hayley?” he asks again. Quieter this time, though each word seems to have been sharpened on a whetstone of pain.
Tiny pinpricks stab behind my eyelids as a lump forms and lodges in my throat. I knew this would be hard. For both of us. I knew it, but the knowing didn’t leave me any more prepared.
“I’ll tell you what I think this is.” He places his other hand on the table and leans forward, invading my space until our noses are only inches apart.
The faint smell of mint on his breath mingles with the sharp hints of engine oil and sweat. The combination is so distinctly him that I’m hit with a fresh wave of grief. After this, I won’t be able to take my car to get an oil change without being reminded of Levi and experiencing this sense of loss all over again.
“I think this is you attempting to think you know what’s best for me and giving me a way out.” He’s searching my eyes now, the hard lines of his face softening the longer he looks at me, as if he sees and recognizes how much it cost me to write each one of those words on that piece of paper.
I swallow the emotions thick in my throat and slowly nod just once. What else can I do? We both know that he’s right.
He raises his hands and brackets his callused palms on either side of my face, gripping my head in a firm hold that’s sending the message that neither of us are going anywhere. “I don’t want a way out, Hayley. I’m all in, you hear me? I amall in.” His voice breaks in a strangled cry as he pulls my head forward and presses his lips to mine.
We kiss like it’s an argument. Every feeling of frustration, despair, and unfairness is spoken in nips of lips and clashing of mouths. I can hear him accusing me of playing the martyr and not allowing him to make his own decision in the flex of his fingers on my scalp and the way he grazes his teeth along my bottom lip. His silent plea to give him a chance and not push him away is spoken in the gentle caress of his thumbs along my cheeks.
I kiss him back with the same urgency, grabbing at him and clutching his shoulders in such a way that I know I’m holding on to him physically in this moment the way I wish I had the possibility of holding him close forever.
I argue back, meeting his lips in rebuttals.I’m trying to do the noble thing, I say as I trail small, closed-mouth kisses from one corner of his mouth to the other.I wish thingswere different.The message is sent in a guttural moan that vibrates through my chest. He swallows the sound, taking it into himself, and then pours more of his own conviction back into me through his embrace.
A tear slips past my closed lids, and all of a sudden anger I didn’t even know was inside of me boils in my gut.
It’s not fair. Nothing about my life has been fair. It isn’t fair that someone had to die so that I could live. It isn’t fair that other people my age are getting married, having kids, and buying their first home while I’m lying to myself that I’m content without those things. It isn’t fair that Levi removed the rose-colored glasses of disillusionment from my eyes and makes me yearn for something that would be selfish of me to pursue.
A sob breaks from my lips, pouring out from a place deep and hidden inside. So hidden, I hadn’t even been aware it was there. I’m heaving now, my shoulders shaking and tears spilling from my eyes like a broken dam.
These thoughts and feelings are coming at me like a stalker I didn’t know I had. They must have been there all this time, lurking in the shadows, and now they’ve sprung out and struck me with the force of a mean right hook. I can’t ignore them any longer. Can’t hold them back. Writing that letter ... facing Levi ... it’s brought things I didn’t even know I felt to the surface. Desires. Dreams. Guilt. Regret. Anger. Sadness. I’m overwhelmed by it all.
Seemingly unperturbed by my choking sobs and loud sniffles even though I know the unearthly cries I’m making must be akin to an icepick stabbing at his cerebellum, Levi gently kisses away my tears and strokes my bangs away from my face.
He moves around the table, his arms long enough to keep his hold on my face while he does so. He scoops me up and takes my seat, resettling me on his lap. My legs drape across his, and my head tucks against his chest. He rocks me gently back and forth, making calming shushing noises and squeezing me in a tight hug.
I don’t know how long I cry, but eventually my tears start to dry. I wipe my eyes and place a hand on Levi’s chest to dislodge myself enough to sit up. His arms loosen but don’t fall away. My mouth opens to apologize, but he shakes his head before I can say a single word.
His jaw is tight again, and I feel bad because I know that I’ve caused this man both emotional and physical pain today. That martyr voice in my head tries to tell meSee,you’re already hurting him. That’s onlygoing to get worse,not better. The right thing todo is walk away before you cause even more damage.But I try to quiet the unwanted accusation before it takes too much of a stronghold in my thoughts.
Levi’s gaze bores into mine, grappling hooks shot into my very soul to seek purchase. The man is waging an invasion on my heart. “Before we kissed the first time, do you remember what I asked you?”
As if I could ever forget. “You wanted to know how I liked being touched,” I say in a whisper.
He traces the shell of my ear with his finger. When we first met, he flinched at any physical contact between us. Now, he can’t seem to stop himself from touching me any chance he gets.
“It was more than just touching. I wanted to know what your needs were, Hayley. I know what it’s like for people to not be considerate—to assume we all think or feel or process the same way. But we don’t. And if what you need is someone who lives in the moment with you without thought of the future, then carpe diem is my new life motto.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Look, I know I’m not the poster child for good communication. I tend to retreat and shut the world out when things get to be too much.” He pushes back my bangs, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I don’t want to do that with you, and I don’t want you to do that with me. We have to communicate—talking, letters, carrier pigeons—anything. I know it’s not going to be easy. None of it will be easy.”
He pauses and looks into my eyes, letting me know he understands everything I tried to tell him in the letter and all the implications that knowledge brings. He knows, and he’s still right here. “But good things are worth fighting for, and you, Miss Hayley Holt, are the very best thing that has ever happened to me. So, I’ll say it again. I’m all in. For however many days you have on this earth. For however long you will have me. I’m not going anywhere.”
22
Wouldn’t it be nice if one conversation was all that it took to make things better?
Worried about something that could have huge ramifications and cause colossal heartache? Have a little chat. Bam. Everything is peachy keen again, and all parties can smile and go on with their lives as if they no longer have a care in the world.
