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Groaning, I push upright. The blanket falls into my lap, the chilly air making my naked skin prickle.
“Why would he leave a note when—”
The words die on my tongue when I feel the familiar dots marring the paper.
He used my brailler.
I let out a huff of air as a knot forms in my throat, making inhaling difficult. The gesture is so simple, yet it means the world to me. I place the note in my lap, my fingers trailing over the words written on the paper.
Birdy,
im not really good at goodbyes and you looked so peaceful asleep i didnt want to wake you up
then i saw the typewriter in the living room as i was leaving so i figured ill write you a note instead
its probably pretty horrible but i hope you get the message behind it anyway
thank you for last night some days the memories of the past just become too much and the guilt is hard to deal with
i couldnt fall back asleep so i figured i might as well go back home and pack since our flight is scheduled for ten
i wish you could come with me butt i understand why you want to stay here and i dont blame you for it
i wish i could stay here with you instead but duty calls
ill text you when i land
talk sooon,
s
Warmth spreads in my belly as I hold onto the paper like it could slip between my fingers at any time. Nobody has ever done something like this for me. Kate was the only person who knew a little bit of braille, but we usually always talk on the phone, so she barely gets to use it. Then Sebastian goes and does this for me. I can’t even imagine how long he sat there typing that note just because he knew I’d be able to read it. Because he knew what it would mean to me.
He could have left me a message on my phone, God knows it would have been easier, but that’s not his style, is it? Sebastian doesn’t choose the easy route.
Henry nudges me with his snout, asking for attention. I rub him between the ears, Sebastian’s request ringing in my head.
You should come with me to LA.
What must it be like for him to go back to the place that held so many memories of the friend he lost? And yet, if he wasn’t here last night, I would probably not have even known what happened to make him want to leave it all behind in the first place.
Letting go of Henry, I straighten the paper before folding it neatly into a square.
“Siri, what time is it?” I ask, already pushing the covers away and getting to my feet, Henry’s happy bark echoing in the room.
“It’s eight-twenty-seven in the morning,” the robotic voice answers.
“Shit,” I mutter, going straight for the closet.
Although he mentioned his mom was sending a private jet, a freakingprivatejet, to come and pick them up, he had probably already left by now.
What was the name of the airport Seraphina mentioned the other day?
Ham-something?
“Siri, which airports are there around Boston?”
I slip into a clean pair of underwear as Siri rattles off all the nearby airports.
