Dirty Letters(63)

I looked back and forth between her eyes. “Are you finished?”

She looked confused but nodded.

“Fine. Then it’s my turn to speak.”

“Okay . . .”

“I only have one thing to say, but I want to make sure you hear it loud and clear, Luca.”

She looked at me and waited.

I leaned in close so that our noses were touching and spoke directly into her eyes with one stern word. “No.”

Apparently she thought I had more to add. But I didn’t. After thirty seconds of silence, she wrinkled her nose. “No?”

“That’s right. No.”

“But I don’t understand . . .”

“What part of the word no don’t you understand?”

“What are you saying no to?”

“Everything. You dumping me. You thinking I’m better off without you. You thinking you can just walk away from what we have and I’ll let you. The answer is just no. One big giant fucking no.”

She still seemed confused when I thought I’d been crystal clear. “But . . .”

“But nothing, Luca.”

“Griffin . . .”

I walked away to cool down, leaving her sitting on the car for a few minutes. When I came back, I held out my hand. “Are you ready to go now?”

Again her face wrinkled. I took a deep breath and lifted her from the car, setting her feet on the ground. Then I leaned in and kissed her lips. “When you’re ready to discuss how we’re going to make things work, I’ll be ready to have that conversation. But I’m done having this one, and I want to go home. I’m tired and I want to go home.” I started to walk back to my side of the car and then realized she might have gotten a mixed message from my last sentence. So I walked back to where she still stood at the back of the car and cleared that shit up. “So there’s no confusion, when I say ‘home’—I don’t mean my house in California. Because that isn’t where home is anymore, Luca. Home is wherever you are.”



The house was so quiet. I could hear Luca’s breaths but wasn’t sure if she was sleeping or not. After we arrived in Vermont, she’d busied herself with mundane tasks—going through mail, picking up Hortencia, cleaning out some expired food from the fridge—anything to avoid having a meaningful conversation. We were both wiped out from the drive home, so we ordered some dinner and turned in pretty early. It was clear from Luca’s body language that sex wasn’t on the menu for tonight. Not that I’d wanted stimulation, but I’d thought that maybe us getting lost in the physical might help her remember the connection we shared. But she’d come to bed in an oversize sweatshirt and joggers and given me her back.

I’d spent the last hour staring at the ceiling in the dark, trying to figure out what the fuck to do. I knew I’d never be able to sleep with so much on my mind, so I decided to get what I needed to say off my chest—whether she heard me or not.

“I don’t know if you’re awake, but I need to say a few things.”

Luca didn’t budge, and I didn’t hear any change in her breathing pattern, so I assumed she must’ve really fallen asleep. I didn’t let that stop me.

“We all have light and dark inside us, love. We try to hide the darkness from others because we’re afraid it will scare them away. But your dark doesn’t scare me, Luca. It only makes me want to hold your hand and be your light until you can find your own again. That’s what people do when they’re in love. I won’t always be able to give you your light back, because sometimes you need to find that within yourself, but I’ll stand by your side and hold your hand in the dark so things aren’t so scary.”

Luca took a big croaky breath in, and I still wasn’t certain she was awake. Until the next sound came—a raw, agonizing, painful cry that rang out like it was being viciously ripped from her body. It was horrible. She sobbed—long, throaty, sad cries that made my own tears start flowing. So much anguish came out of her, I knew in my heart that this cry wasn’t only about what had happened yesterday. It felt like years of pent-up sadness, loneliness, and grief that had found its way out of a long tunnel after years of being stuck in darkness.

I wrapped my arms around her and held on tight, both of us crying for the longest time. Eventually, when every painful sob had racked its way through her body, she started to calm down.

“The concert was my idea,” she choked out.

Oh God. The inside of my chest felt like someone had reached in, torn out my still-beating heart, and squeezed it into an angry fist. “It might have been your idea, but what happened wasn’t your fault. Millions of teenagers go to concerts every weekend, Luca.”

“She always had a smile on her face.”

I tightened my grip around her. “I’m sure she was incredible.”

“I . . . I miss her so much.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“I loved her.”

“You love hard. I know you did.”

“I couldn’t find her.” Her voice cracked and shook. “The crowd. It just pushed me toward the door, and I tried to look around, but all I could see was people everywhere.”

I’d been to enough concerts to imagine how a horde of panicked teenagers would act during an emergency evacuation. Mass chaos with everyone pushing and pulling. If I hadn’t understood the basis of Luca’s fears before now, the visual of her little body being pushed through a crowd while she frantically tried to look for her friend really explained her feeling of having no control. I shut my eyes. I’d basically done the same thing to her—pushing her out of the hotel, down the stairs, and through the crowd.