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Over time, it did get easier. Seeing his book on my shelf hurt a little less and the mountain on my ceiling made me smile and I started listening to Kings of Leon again, remembering the wind in my hair and the glint in his eyes as our gazes locked.
I thought grief would destroy me, but holding onto the moments we shared made me realise that people truly are immortal; even when they’re gone from you, they live on in your memories. But it’s not losing people that hurts like hell; it’s the potential of something that could have been but never was. Grief is just all the things we wished we’d said.
And I told them all to Chase—in my mind. And we lived happily ever after in our log cabin in the forest.
But I didn’t tell him. Not any of it.
I wonder if his number is still in use. What would it hurt to admit everything to him when I’m never going to see him again—?
Ping ping!
Archer’s name pops up on my screen—and then again, and again, and again. As if I’ve just hit a signal hotspot and a burst of texts fire through—
Oh my fucking God.
The first was sent an hour ago.
An hour!
Where r u????????????????????
I scroll through the rest, my breathing suddenly ragged.
House is a fucking shithole and you’ve fucked off out, nice one
Where are u????!?!?!?!?!
Answer me back now
I’m not fucking around Frankie, if you’re not home in the next ten minutes I’m locking you out
Why are you ignoring me!!
Stupid slut
I’m sorry, just come home please, I’m worried about you
The last one was sent five minutes ago.
Don’t bother coming back, we’re done
He’s called me eleven times, and I have a string of voicemail messages I have no intention of listening to.
‘No no no no no—‘
I’m winding my way through the dancefloor before my mind catches up to me.
A hand wraps my arm.
‘Hey.’ It’s Emmy. ‘Where you going?’
‘Home.’ I try and tug free, but her grip tightens.
‘Please don’t—‘
‘I need to go—‘
‘Why? BecauseArchersaid so?’
