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She’s going to fight it, probably. (Selfishly, I hope she does.) But you’ll wear her down. You’ll find that piece of her heart that’s still yours and give it some oxygen. Just leave a little room for me to stay, yeah?
She needs you. If I’m honest, she’s always needed you. But right now, she’s going to need everything you’ve got. Love her like I know you’ve always wanted to.
It’s gonna be hard on both of you. Mainly because I’m awesome and you’re both going to miss the hell out of me. But do it anyway.
Oh, and another thing. Don’t raise my kid to be an asshole like you, okay?
Kidding, kidding.
Final order—Don’t waste time with the whiney, guilty bullshit, either. Your dead best friend is giving you everything you ever wanted (just like you once gave him), and you’re going to take it with a smile and a “Thank you, Jeremy, you absolute stud.”
Got it?
All right, that’s about all I can handle. I want to throw up just thinking about all this.
I love you, you prick.
Jer
I read it again.
Then again and again, until the words blur and the past and future melt.
And finally, I fall apart like I should have over thirteen years ago.
43
I couldn’t bring myself to leave the camp, so I’m sitting on the steps outside the Lodge when Lucas’s cry ricochets through the air. A desperate and gut-wrenching roar, chockful of anguish. And so loud that a flock of birds lifts from a nearby tree.
Jolting to my feet, I run back down the path just in time to hear a splash. It makes me run faster, my feet kicking up sand and fine rocks across the beach before pounding down the dock. I skid to a stop beside his discarded T-shirt and watch, the latter pinning down the opened letter. Curiosity flares, then dies.
I scan the water until I find him. Those smooth, strong strokes taking him not toward the buoy but toward the dark center of the lake.
“Lucas!” I holler.
He doesn’t pause.
It takes zero thoughts and five seconds to toe off my shoes and strip off my shirt and shorts. Another to dive into the cold embrace of Wild Lake.
I’m a decent swimmer, but it’s been years since I went all-out, and I’m panting by the time I grab the buoy’s fraying rope. I scan the lake, but everywhere I look, the surface is smooth.
Panic grabs me in its dark claws.
“Lucas!” I scream, over and over, until his name is choked by sobs.
The water ripples a few feet away and suddenly he’s right in front of me, his face dripping water and set in lines of shock.
“Celeste, what the fuck!” He grips the rope, his other arm wrapping around my waist to support me.
Sobbing—now with abject relief—I grab his face. “Why’d you do that? You idiot. Where’d you go? You disappeared!”
His eyes widen, bloodshot and wet with tears and lake water. “You didn’t leave?”
“Of course I didn’t leave, you jackass. I love you. I love you so fucking much and you screamed and then jumped into the fucking lake. I thought I was in a horror movie or a bad teen drama?—”
His mouth smashes against mine, swallowing the rest of my babbling. I throw my arms around his shoulders, almost submerging us before he pulls us tighter to the buoy.
Against my lips, he mumbles, “You love me?”
