Page 99 of Kill Me

“No, I, uh…”

“What’s wrong, Bones?”

“Tell me one of your favourite memories with Tommo. Humour me for a second.”

“The bluebell fields.”

And just like that, the waterworks start. Tears stream down my face.

“Bones… What’s happening?”

“It’s me, Magpie.” She looks so confused.

“What’s you?”

“I’m Tommo. It’s me.” Her mouth drops.

“No, you can’t be. His parents took him away when he was—”

“Twelve. I know. I never knew the reason why, but the day we left was the day they died. The accident was on the way to our new house.”

“Tell me something only you or I would know.” She sits there in disbelief.

“We would read under the tree, holding hands. Our lake.” It hits me. “The bridge I found you on was at our lake.”

Tears pool in her eyes. “I used to go there after you left, hoping it would be the way you’d find me again. This can’t be real. Is it really you?”

I nod. Thinking of a way I can prove it. “Wait there.”

I take the stairs two at a time, looking for the last picture I took with my parents before we moved. I’m standing in the middle of them with a cheesy grin on my face, but if we’re right, she’ll know straight away.

I run back down the stairs and drop onto my knees in front of her. “Here. Look.”

She turns the photo over in her hands and strokes her finger over the face of the twelve-year-old version of me. “No fucking way,” she whispers. “I looked for you my entire adult life. Everywhere we had been, everywhere that meant something to us. I tried everything to find you.”

“Me too,” I croak back. I bury my head in her lap as she strokes the back of my head. “The day I met you, there was something familiar. Something I couldn’t put my finger on. Like I’d loved you in a past life. There was a reason I started calling you Little Magpie that day.”

“Yeah, because of the magpie song.”

I shake my head.

“Why do you call me Magpie, then?”

“Because the night I met you, I asked my parents for a sign that they were with me. And then there was you. The little magpie sent you to steal my soul.”

She traces the features on my face as she absorbs the information. “It’s really you?” I nod. “So we really are a real-life romance novel.”

I laugh. “A second-chance meet-cute for the ages.” I pull her to me and kiss her like my life depends on it. All of those childhood stolen kisses flash before my eyes—the feelings of first love, protection, and the memories that I thought I would need to lock in a box forever that can now be brought back to the forefront of my mind.

“I thought I’d lost the love of my life once, and then I found another one and couldn’t believe my luck. Only to find out they’re both the same person. I loved you then. I love you now. And fuck me, I’ll love you always.”

He grabs me up off the chair, and we fall to the floor in a pile of tangled limbs and messy kisses. Teeth clashing against each other, hearts pounding, both gasping for breath but desperate to tear each other's clothes off. We make love on the floor. It’s all-consuming. No end goal other than to feel closer to each other, like we want to climb into each other's skins and be joined together forever.

***

Once again we find ourselves on the sofa, in each other's arms, me with my Kindle in hand and him with his own book. We’re scrolling through the TV trying to find something to watch. On the continue watching list is a true crime show that looks interesting.

“What's My Child, My Killer about?”