Sweet Fall (Sweet Home #2)(89)

Don’t tear it down, what’s left of me.



Make my heart a better place.



As I listened to the haunting lyrics of yet another song from the playlist Austin had put on, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something within my chest. The last few days had been a blur, but one thing I had known was that Austin had been by my side.

Only in the small breaks in my deepest of depressions could I feel the touch of his hand, the stroke of his callused finger running down my cheek.

I couldn’t understand why he was here.

Can you still see the heart of me?



All my agony fades away,



When you hold me in your embrace.



The lyrics filtered to my brain like a musical message, and before I knew it, I felt a wetness slide down my cheek. I knew I was crying. Only thoughts of Austin could break through the voice’s high walls.

As I stared outside the window at the burning winter sun, the sight of white feathers caught my eye. A dove flew to the tree outside my window and perched on the branch.

It was beautiful.

It reminded me of Austin’s tattoo on his throat, of the dove I saw all those years ago when I was sectioned for the first time. The sight had always calmed me. The dove: the avian representation of love and peace.

Hearing the creak of the door to my room, I didn’t turn around, but soon smelled Austin’s scent of summer rain, that fresh, cool smell that was so uniquely him. Austin would sit beside me, holding my hand and touching my face. He would never say anything, would just sit beside me, cherishing me.

But this time was different.

A sound of something being placed on the food tray before me made my ears prick, and on a heavy sigh, I heard Austin leave me alone.

As I stared at the dove, it turned its head, almost as in encouragement to look down.

Lifting my weak hand, I managed to roll slightly to the side and saw my journal lying on the tray. It was open on a page, but I frowned when I realized the writing wasn’t mine.

Casting a glance to the shut door, I allowed myself to slowly pull the tray closer to me and began to read the intruding message in my most treasured possession…





Dear Lexi,

Dear Pix,





Where to begin?

I suppose I should start with an apology.

I have done wrong by you. So f*cking wrong.

I left when you needed me most. I left you alone with the voice, knowing it was getting harder and harder for you each day. I thought by leaving you out of my f*cked-up life, I could prevent you from being hurt. From falling back into his powerful arms. But all I did was crush you by making you feel unwanted… rejected, and that couldn’t be further from the truth.

My time with you over the past several months has been the most special of my life. After years of hiding in shame of who I was and where I was from, you accepted me for me, no pretenses, just me for me. I dream about you. I dream about you all the time. Dreams that, before you, I never would’ve ever thought possible.

And now you’re here, in this hell, and I can’t get through to you. I can’t get you to speak. Please, Pix, say something. Just something so I know you haven’t given up—on life, on your friends… on us.

I need you so much that I can’t breathe. Everything is wrong without you in my life. Talk to me. Come back to me. Fight the voice, for me. I will not say my good-byes to you too.

It’s funny. I used to look up at the stars and feel so small and unimportant. But I’ve come to realize that the only thing that can ever make you feel alive and important is the one person who takes you for you.

You once said that you wondered if the stars were looking down on us. Did they pity mankind for the f*ck-ups we are? But now I see the truth. I now pity the stars. For as much as humans mess up time and time again, we also get to fall in love. We get to be with the other half of our soul, the one that makes us complete. All the stars get to do is watch from above, wishing it was them feeling this crushing yet liberating emotion.

I need you, Pix.

I need you so badly to come back to me… and when you do, I have those two words that I finally want to get off my chest.

So when you’re ready, look up. I am waiting for you, baby. I’ll always be there, waiting for you to return home.





Raising my blurring eyes up off the page, I looked to the door, and there, leaning against the doorframe like a fallen angel, was Austin, arms folded over his chest and his dark eyes fixed on me.

Unable to find the strength to lift my hands to wipe away the wetness on my cheeks, I let the cascading waterfall of tears fall from my eyes and watched the broken boy that I loved so fiercely swallow and whisper hoarsely, “Why the war paint, Pix?”

My slow heart rate sped to a frightening rhythm, and closing my eyes, I pushed down the voice that had been in control of me for months and finally confessed, “Because I’m anorexic. I’m severely anorexic, and I try to hide it from the world.”

Austin tipped back his head and sucked in the corner of his bottom lip. He was crying too.

“Why the tattoos, Austin?”

Austin fixed his gaze on me and replied, “Because they make the f*cked-up, scared little lost boy from the trailer park seem tough. Make him feel strong enough to deal with the shit show he calls life.”