THE TROUBLE WITH PAPER PLANES(44)

But when the unthinkable finally happens, it forces you to stop. To feel. To lose a part of yourself to the horror. And you’re never really the same.

“I used to feel her, all around me,” I admitted, shocking myself. I’d never said that to anyone before, not even Vinnie. “It was like she was watching me. But lately… I don’t know. It’s different.”

I wanted to explain how different, but I didn’t know how. When it came right down to it, I’m not sure it was something I was capable of understanding, much less explaining.

“She’s so lucky,” Maia said, tears gathering in her eyes. “To have so many people who love her, who miss her.”

If only loving her, missing her, could bring her back to me. If it could, she’d have been home long ago.

I moved my hand to enclose hers. I wanted her to know how much it meant to me, that she could let me talk about Em like this, but I couldn’t find the words. Instead, I just sat there, holding her hand on the table.

Like everyone kept telling me, it was time to move on. I couldn’t dwell anymore – literally. It hurt too much. I glanced down at the plate in front of her and summoned up a smile from somewhere.

“You better eat up before it gets cold and I have to re-heat it again. That’s if I haven’t completely destroyed your appetite already?”

Her smile softened. “No, I’m still hungry. And you can talk about Emily any time you want to. She was a big part of your life – it’d be weird if you didn’t talk about her.”

The more time I spent with her, the more I was starting to believe in fate, karma, destiny and all that stuff. How else could I explain this? She seemed to be exactly what I needed, when I needed it.

I squeezed her hand. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

I gave her some space to eat, and then we did the dishes together. She was still a little fragile from the migraine, but she said she felt a lot better, which was good news. There was something we needed to talk about and I wanted her full attention when we did. We sat down on the couch together, the TV still turned down low, the lights even lower.

“I need to ask you something,” I said, turning to her.

She looked a little nervous. “Okay.”

I was nervous myself. I didn’t want to offend her.

“This sleeping in your car thing,” I began carefully. “It makes me really uncomfortable, knowing you’re out there, God knows where, each night. It just doesn’t seem right to me.”

She sat back on the couch, her knees pulled up, chin resting on them as if she was barricading herself against me. I reached over and rubbed her leg gently.

“I’m not judging you,” I murmured. “I just want to help. I have a spare room, and it’s yours if you want it, for however long you want it. No expectations, no conditions.”

She looked like she might burst into tears and I didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“I’m not trying to pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to do,” I said quickly. “And like I said, the room doesn’t come with any strings attached. I just want you to be safe.”

Suddenly, she released her knees and sat forward, wrapping her arms around me with a little whimper that took me completely by surprise. We sat there, holding on to each other, for several long minutes. I still wasn’t sure – was this a yes-please? Or a no-thank-you-but-thank-you-for-caring?

“I know all of this – us – is moving pretty quickly, but it just… I don’t know. It doesn’t feel wrong, not to me anyway.”

In fact, it felt more right than anything else had in the past five years.

“It doesn’t feel wrong to me, either,” she whispered into my shoulder.

I took that as a yes-please and pulled her tighter, my heart so full, it felt like it might burst. I had no idea what was happening between us, but I had the distinct impression that whatever it was, it was out of our hands.





I LAY IN BED THAT NIGHT, wide awake. I stared at the ceiling, counted sheep and tossed and turned. The one thing I couldn’t do was sleep.


How the hell could I still miss Em as much as I did, yet I couldn’t stop thinking about Maia?

I’d said the offer didn’t come with any conditions or expectations – and at the time, I thought I meant it. But now, at night, with the house quiet and dark, and Maia so close yet so far from me, it felt like a lie. I didn’t want her down the hall. I wanted her right there, in my bed, beside me. The realisation hit me like a freight train.