Letting Go (Thatch #1)(24)

That alone should have tipped me off that tonight was going to be too much.

I don’t think I’d been in anything other than leggings or sweats since graduation, and they wanted to make sure I looked completely opposite how I normally did.

Mission accomplished. I wanted to put my hair up in a messy bun and get into comfortable clothes already. I had more makeup on than I’d worn to graduation, four-inch-heel boots, and an outfit I’d expect someone like Janie to wear.

Well, I guess I know who picked it out.

“Stop messing with your shirt,” Janie chastised for the twentieth time tonight.

“It feels like I’m not wearing anything!” I hissed. “It’s awkward!”

I shoved my clutch at her and looked down at myself as I moved the shirt around, making sure I was covered. The tank was already low cut to the point where I was showing more cleavage than was necessary, but the material was too thin, and loose enough that any breeze made even just by walking had it feeling like the shirt had evaporated. The only saving grace of this outfit was that I was wearing jeans—unfortunately for me and my poor legs, they were constricting the life out of me.

“Who wears this stuff?” I groaned, and turned around to look at myself in the window of a store. I refused to admit I was happy with the way I looked tonight . . . I was that uncomfortable.

“Better question, who doesn’t?” Janie asked. “You used to too. You just seemed to replace your entire wardrobe with sweatpants.”

“Much more comfortable than skinny jeans.”

Heather snorted. “No one ever said you were supposed to be comfortable. Let’s go before you find somewhere you can buy something else.”

I snatched the clutch back from Janie and made a face at them before walking in the direction of the gallery again. “At least then I would be sure I’d have full use of my legs after tonight. I swear, there is no blood flow down there.”

“Get over it, you look hot. Jagger’s not going to know what to do with himself when he sees you.”

“I don’t care what Jagger thinks, Janie,” I mumbled.

Both girls laughed, but there was a part of me that was trying so hard to cling to the idea that Jagger and I could never be anything more than friends. As the last six weeks had come and gone, and the pain of being away from him had only grown, I’d fought with what I’d thought I’d known, and what I was slowly coming to terms with. That my family might have been right, that in the last two years my love for Jagger had grown from a love that could only be formed when you’d been friends as long as we had, to something so much more. And it had changed without my ever realizing it.

They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. Whether Jagger was gone or not would probably be determined tonight, because up until now, I’d been the one hiding . . . I’d been the one who was gone. But that hadn’t changed the truth of those words. I was very much aware of what I had left behind in Thatch.

But I’d also had a love that I’d known could withstand anything. Time, separation, death . . .

I just hadn’t known the death would come so soon, or how hard it would be to try to live my life apart from Ben when my world had revolved around him for so long. I knew I couldn’t live my life grieving over him forever. I knew that. Ben wouldn’t want that for me, and if the roles had been reversed, I would want him to be happy. I would want him to love again.

But knowing he would want that for me as well was so much easier to accept than actually allowing it for myself. It’s hard to continue on in life when the person holding your heart can’t.

I stopped walking and stumbled back when Heather yanked on my hand, and I turned around to look at them.

“Uh, where are you going?” Heather pointed to the brightly lit gallery we’d just passed, and my lips parted on a heavy exhalation.

“Oh my God.” I took a few shaky steps toward the windows, my chest tightening as I looked at the drawing Janie had been talking about. It was the one Jagger had been finishing when I’d walked into his studio that morning.

“Isn’t it amazing?” Janie squealed, and grabbed my other hand.

“Jesus Christ, it looks just like you.” Heather stared with open amazement. “You said he was good, but . . . damn.”

“I know,” I breathed.

“Well, are you ready to go in? See if your guy is here?” Heather asked.

I looked at Janie, and she must have seen the panic on my face, because she squeezed my hand once. “It’s okay, Grey. Whatever happens tonight, it’s okay. Just see if he’s here. Talk to him. He’s your closest friend if nothing else; you can’t hide from him forever.”

No. But in that moment, I really wanted to try. Releasing Heather’s hand, I grabbed the delicate chain around my neck, searching for the ring that had been nestled between my breasts. Holding it tightly in my fist, I stared for a few more seconds at the drawing that had started all of this before slowly walking toward the entrance.

The open gallery wasn’t crowded, but there were definitely a lot more people than I’d been expecting. Then again, I hadn’t really known what to expect. I’d had a dozen different scenarios playing through my mind all day. Janie had just been driving too fast when she saw the drawing and that’s why she thought it was of me . . . so this was all for nothing. The drawing would be the one and only piece of Jagger’s in the gallery, so, again, this would all have been for nothing. The gallery would be too crowded to get in. No one would be here at all. Jagger would be here with someone . . .