Levi waited until we couldn’t hear Kevin anymore before he turned back to me and held my hands. “I’ve known from the second I met you that you would shake my life up. But I was a chickenshit. I didn’t want my life shook up. I wanted to stay hiding and mourn, but not really. I wasn’t mourning my mother,though. I was in this awful holding pattern between self-disgust and doing nothing. When I told you how I felt about you, I felt small and insecure and a failure when you didn’t instantly return my feelings.” I looked down at our hands, but before I could speak, he went on. “But that wasn’t fair of me. If I know anything about you, it’s that you take your time to understand things. I should have been patient and waited.” He took a deep breath and prepared himself to speak. “Worse than that, though. When you brought the article to me, my pride took a deeper hit. I felt like an absolute failure. You had known the truth for weeks and saw it clearly when I couldn’t in thirty years.”
“You read the story?” I asked.
He nodded. “It was incredible, and you were right. That was how Lily should be remembered. Not whatever it was I was doing. You are brave and full of love. I was fucking stupid to let my own hurt get in the way.”
“Th-thank you,” I said.
A relief like I didn’t know I could feel suffused me. It shouldn’t matter what he thought about me, but it did. I cared about what he thought because I cared about him. “You are a good man, Levi. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You were struggling with loss. I wasn’t close to it like you are. These things take time.”
“I wish I had your patience,” he said.
“I wish I had your emotional intelligence.” I shrugged a smile.
His thumb lifted to brush my dimple. “God, I missed those.” I smiled wider. “I just wanted you to know that everything I said was because I was an arrogant man full of pride andembarrassment for my actions. I never believed for a minute that you would do anything like what I accused you of. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” I lifted on my toes to lean into his touch.
He cleared his throat and stepped back. “But I am here to help you pack. I’m not here to ask for anything. Just help.”
I hid my disappointment and gestured to the area. “Well, it’s going to be a few days before I can leave, but I appreciate you.”
We talked all night as we worked, sometimes quiet, sometimes laughing. He told me what I’d missed in town. Apparently, there had been a lot of drama in the past few months, even outside of our little bubble at the cabin. We only stopped to eat the food he brought. It didn’t need to take that long. There wasn’t much stuff, but what should have taken an hour tops took half the night with our long, comfortable conversation. I had missed talking to him.
After the truck was loaded, all too soon, we sat side by side on the liftgate. Ripley snored loudly in the cabin.
“I miss you too,” I said boldly, my finger brushing his, thinking of his last text.
He swallowed audibly in silent space. “I miss you so much.” His jaw flexed before he added, “All the time.”
We missed each other. What did that mean now? Chicago was so far from Cozy Creek.
“Did you mean it? That day when I ruined everything?” he asked.
I turned to meet his hopeful yet guarded gaze. He was here. He still cared, and it meant more than anything.
I knew what he was referring to. I nodded. “I did.” It was my turn to swallow with effort. “Ido.”
He let out a shaking breath. “I love you too,” he said.
We loved each other still.
Wasn’t that supposed to be enough? Weren’t we meant to have it all figured out now?
I slid my hand on top of his, and he stood abruptly.
“I meant when I said I didn’t come to ask anything of you. I just wanted to help.”
I felt his absence everywhere. The building felt cold and dark.
“Okay,” I said softly.
“I should probably get going.” He wouldn’t look at me, keeping his fists balled at his sides.
I stood too. Shouldn’t this part be easy? Why did it feel so hard and scary?
“I’m not asking for anything. I just wanted to tell you that your story changed me. It changed my life. I realized I was living in fear and labeling it as stoicism. You showed me courage and beauty and all that encompassed my mother and what she would want to have been remembered as.” He reached into his pocket and handed me a brochure. “I wanted to invite you to this. I know it’s last minute, but we are opening on New Year’s Eve.”
“Lily Carmichael Memorial Art Gallery. Levi, really?” I grinned up at him.
