Come to Me Quietly(138)

Her assertion burned me deep inside. “Mom, how can you say that? He’s gone.” I emphasized the word because I realized then that was what I really needed to accept.

Sorrow squeezed my spirit.

He was gone.

Mom cupped my cheek. “Hearts have a way of finding their way home.”



Tuesday evening I drove the short distance back to the apartment after my classes ended for the day. Sunlight barely clung to the sky. Golds blazed at the horizon and danced with the waning blue. Through the windshield, I lifted my face to it, hit with the intense urge to curl up on my bed with my sketch pad, to free my hand and see his face.

All I wanted was to see his face.

I wound around the lot and parked in my spot. Sucking in a deep breath, I got my bag and stepped from the car. I felt drained. Fatigued. I always felt a little bit off, like this overall sickness burdened my body. My feet were heavy as I crossed the lot, heavier as I studied them, coaxing them to take the next step. I took them one at a time, holding on to the railing for support.

All the breath left me when I lifted my head, and I was engulfed in fear and panic and an almost terrifying explosion of relief.

Because the only eyes I wanted to see were watching me from where he sat on the top step, his forearms resting on his knees, his intense ice blue eyes staring down at me.

“Jared.”



TWENTY-FOUR


Jared



God, seeing her had to be about the best feeling I’d ever experienced. With just the suggestion of her face, dizzying waves of relief slammed into me, filling up that hollowed-out void.

Aly.

Slanting a nervous hand through my hair, I did my best to sit still while I stared down at the green eyes that had locked on me. Strands of the darkest hair swirled all around her, stirred up by the cool breeze that had fallen with the descending night. Frozen midstep, she clung to the railing like maybe she feared she would fall, like the world had just dropped out from beneath her feet.

I guess mine had the moment I opened my eyes to find her hovering over me that first night I’d slept on her couch.

God knew she was the only one who’d managed to change it.

A somber smile pulled at my mouth while something profoundly heavy pulled at my heart.

The girl was so beautiful. Breathtaking.

Air seemed impossible to find, my pulse all thready and harsh. Every cell in my body was screaming at me to get up, to take her in my arms, to kiss her and hold her and make sure she was real because I’d spent so many nights dreaming about her that I wasn’t entirely sure what real was anymore.

Cautiously, I climbed to my feet. A tumult of thoughts fired through my mind while somehow I remained at a complete loss for words. I had no idea how she’d react to me being here, had no clue what she was thinking, couldn’t tell if she was happy or relieved or angry because she just looked f*cking sad.

I wanted to wipe that sadness from her face and erase it from her heart because there was no question I was the one who’d written it there. The most selfish part of me coming back was I still didn’t know if I knew how. The only thing I knew was I could no longer stay away. It just wasn’t possible when she was the only thing I could see.

“Aly,” I finally managed to whisper, her name the sum of all the tumult coursing through me. She was all that mattered.

Five steps down, she stood there, unmoving, before her head slowly began to shake, her lips trembling as tears broke loose. Her eyes squeezed shut. She dropped her face, her free hand in a fist as she spoke toward the concrete steps. “You came back.”