I’m falling in love with you.
I swallow the lump of emotion in my throat. He’s giving me too much grace right now. He should be upset or feel used or have questions. It’s what I deserve, and besides, isn’t that howmost people would react? But instead, he’s calm. Not even asking for an explanation. Is he so secure in his feelings—inmyfeelings—that even when there’s damning evidence in the palm of his hand, he only believes the best of me?
“How long have you kept track of your daily good deeds?”
I close my eyes, hot and prickly as my rising emotions seek a way out of my body. Grace, but not an escape from accountability. Levi is holding up that mirror once again, forcing me to look into it and examine my reflection. This is a question I don’t want to answer. It’s too telling. Too revealing.
And his voice. He’s asking with compassion like a surgeon’s scalpel, lancing my wounds open.
I blink my eyes open, owing him some type of explanation. Compelled to give him reassurance that he was right not to jump to any conclusions. That my notebook is just my way of bringing light to a dark world.
Or maybe I’m still trying to convince myself that’s my single motivation.
He looks at me knowingly, as if he sees the parts of me that even I’ve been too fainthearted to study. It’s too much. I slide my gaze away, ashamed because I know there are broken pieces inside of me I’ve kept from being healed.
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” Levi’s deep voice rumbles.
I brace myself.
“You’re really blessed, you know that?”
I tuck my chin to my chest, equal parts relieved and disappointed. I do know I’m blessed. Blessed to still be alive when I should have died. Blessed to be given these borrowed years.
It’s a blessing I feel the weight of responsibility for every single day.
He crooks a finger under my chin, gently lifting my face back up into the light, then brushes my bangs out of my eyes. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, evidence that I’m not the onlyone assaulted with the thickness of emotions this conversation is bringing.
“So blessed to have been given a personal perspective of redemption and the cross.”
My brow furrows. Levi has jumped from telling me he loves me to bringing up my notebook, and now he’s talking about the plan of salvation when we’ve never once mentioned our personal faiths before beyond sharing a premeal prayer. His grunting replies, I’ve learned to interpret. But this conversation? “What are you talking about?”
His golden eyes shine like the sun in a cloudless sky. “Think about it. If you grew up in a church, then all your life you’ve been told that Jesus died to give you life. And you’ve experienced that type of gift—being saved from an impending death by the ultimate sacrifice of another—in a physical way that not many people have.”
I blink at his reasoning, slowly understanding how the conversation ended up here. “It isn’t exactly the same.”
“No, you’re right,” he concedes. “But there are similarities. Jesus gave his life willingly for all out of his great love for us. Your donor’s life ended prematurely, but it was his or her wish or the wish of their family that they give the gift of life to another at their death. A gift, Hayley.” He stares into my eyes as if willing me to understand what he’s saying. “One that can never be repaid.”
My gut twists and sours. “I know I can’t ever repay the gift I’ve been given.”
“Do you?” he presses, as if he doesn’t believe me.
“Yes!” I shout.
Levi flinches but doesn’t move away. Doesn’t retreat even though I know that’s his nature and instinct. This conversation is likely just as uncomfortable for him as it is for me, but he’s not withdrawing. His care for me is making him stay.
“Then tell me. What is your notebook?”
I sigh, trying to get my emotions under control. I wasn’t prepared for this. For facing the fact that our hearts are already binding us together in a way that makes the future even more complicated than it was before. For being confronted with my notebook and finally forced to take a good hard look at the uneasy questions about my daily acts of altruism. My head is spinning, my heart pulling in erratic directions.
“I’m paying it forward.” That conviction, hearing it out loud, strengthens me. I lift my chin almost defiantly. As if challenging him to find fault with being aware and intentional, of doing good deeds. Of being a godsend to other people.
“Is that it? Or are you trying to prove you’re worthy of the gift of life you’ve been given?” he challenges right back, no bite to his words.
No bite, but they land like a blow just the same.
Levi scoops me up and settles me on his lap, his arms banding around me in a secure hold, offering me his own strength as he forces me to not push these questions aside any longer.
“Don’t cheapen the gift.” His chest vibrates beneath my ear as he speaks.
