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He wouldn’t survive it.
You have barely survived it.
His body was in horrible pain from being in a sitting position too long, but the cavern in his chest was the worst pain of all. And it stretched wider and wider now, as he realized all the important conversations that were never had. The forgiveness he’d never given. The time he’d wasted on a book that had been on the wrong trajectory since the beginning. When he could have been with her.
“Take a shower before you go see her.”
“I can’t. Two and a half weeks.”
Natalie yawned, reaching into her room for her purse and dropping it outside the door. “Yeah—and you might want to catch her before she leaves for the home and garden show with the redhead. They are just friends, but, you know, I still don’t think he’s deleting his wedding playlist anytime soon.”
His intestines just sort of melted into his socks. This was peak misery. How he felt didn’t mean jack shit right now, though. He’d walked out on Hallie while she was crying, too bogged down in his own self-disgust that he’d neglected to take care of her. To reassure her that he wasn’t upset over the secret she’d been keeping. He was grateful for it. Those letters were the first step in the journey to where he was now. To seeing the world differently. Seeing himself differently.
“How is she?” He rifled through his sister’s purse for the car keys. Fuck the shower. “I didn’t mean to leave her so long. She must hate me.”
“Hate you? No.” Natalie’s tone of voice turned Julian around. “Julian, I don’t know what happened between you two, but she’s taking the blame. If she hates anyone, she hates herself.”
No. No, no, no.
A pounding started in the dead center of his forehead, his stomach pitching, nausea picking up speed like a rogue wave. Driving to her house and apologizing wasn’t enough. No, she needed more. A lot more. The most unique, loving woman on the planet had been writing him love letters, and he needed to show her what they’d meant to him. What she meant to him.
Everything.
Would she want him when he had the ability to go silent for weeks?
“The last time this happened, I . . . couldn’t be there when my family needed me. Now I’ve done the same thing to her. She’s been hurting for weeks, and I’ve been lost in my own head. Brought down by this fucking weakness. I was just . . .” He searched for the right explanation. “I woke up alone, and she was gone. I thought she was hurt. Or worse. And then I couldn’t calm myself down . . .”
“Julian.” He found Natalie looking at him with a thoughtful frown. “This has only happened to you twice,” she said slowly. “Once when I was in danger. And again, when you thought something might have happened to Hallie.”
All he could think about now was getting to her. Holding her. “I don’t follow.”
Natalie didn’t speak right away, her eyes turning slightly damp. “You’re a protector. A solver of problems. Always have been, since we were kids. If your supposed weakness is caring too much about the people you love, to the point of panic, then that is a strength, not a weakness. It’s just one that needs to be managed correctly.”
His sister’s words finally broke through. Was she right?
Did the worst of his panic stem from people he loved being in danger?
“When I check out like this, I leave everyone to pick up the pieces alone. I couldn’t help with damage control after the fire. I’ve left Hallie for two and a half weeks. My God—”
“I don’t have a way to solve that part, Julian. But there is a way to cope with it. I know there is.” She tilted her head slightly, her expression sympathetic and understanding. “Maybe it’s time to stop trying to do that on your own.”
“Yeah.” His voice was raw. “Okay. I know you’re right.” As soon as he didn’t feel like dying for being away from his girl so long, he’d make the calls. He’d schedule the necessary appointments to get healthier. For himself. For everyone. But right now? None of that was happening without Hallie being healed first. “Natalie, please. I need your help.”
* * *
Hallie sat in her backyard, leaning up against the fence, surrounded by dozing dogs. She had a sketchpad in her lap, a pencil still rolling back and forth where it had fallen from her fingers. She’d finished it. The idea for the library garden was complete—and it was glorious. A plan that didn’t necessarily look like one. A Hallie-style buffet of sunflowers and dogwood and native wildflowers. Shaded benches and water babbling over stones and a swing hanging from the oak tree. It was a plan Rebecca would have been proud of.
