That One Moment (Lost in London #2)(38)
The truth is my heart has been aching and deteriorating every single day since Marisa’s death. Scraps were all that was remaining. And now, at last, those scraps have also crumbled.
No matter what I do, I just can’t find a way to forgive myself. I can’t let it go. In the wake of her death, I am drowning and I can no longer see the shore. I’m stuck here in the depths with the weight of her dead body pulling me further and further into the darkness. So much so, the darkness has become my only way of life. It’s where I’m at while I’m living, and it’s why I yearn for the nothingness of death. Death feels like a break. Like a relief. Like a blessing. Like the only place I can find peace.
I don’t know why I’m taking Marisa’s passing harder than everyone else. Maybe because I was driving. Maybe because I felt the force of the quad against her body. Maybe because I loved her so much and am not sure I ever properly told her. How could I have never told her I loved her? She was the best sister anyone could ever ask for and I was oblivious. Ridiculous. Foolish.
It seems everybody but me is moving on with their lives. And I refuse to continue to be the sad son, angry brother, disappointing friend, or jilted lover who holds everyone back. I despise being the charity case. When living hurts this much, what kind of life is it? So instead of wishing every day that it was me who died in that accident instead of her, I’m going to do something about it.
My one final request for all of you, my only request, is to be happy.
I’m only sorry that I can’t be.
Love always, -H
Tears stream down my face and onto the paper. Shaking, I quickly turn it over on the cushion to pat it dry. A huge knot aches in my throat, so I attempt a painful cough to relieve the pressure. I let out a frustrated and somewhat garbled cry. Then I feel his firm arms wrap around me. I curl up into a protective ball, failing miserably to stop my tears.
“Shhhhh,” Hayden whispers against my hair and presses his lips to the top of my ear. “Shhhhh. I’m sorry, Vi. I’m so, so sorry.”
“I’m sor—I’m sorry,” I choke out painfully around the lump and bite down on my kneecap to stave off my cries. I shake my head. “I’m sorry for not being stronger right now. I just want to wish that time away for you, Hayden. I want to wish it away with everything inside of me.” I wipe the tears from beneath my eyes and sniff loudly.
I turn my head and watch him exhale a shaky breath. His expression is grave as he taps the face of his watch mindlessly and replies, “You have no idea how many times I’ve wished the same thing. Still to this day.”
“That’s not you anymore, is it, Hayden? Is that man still inside of you?” Terror courses through me from the absolute fear I have of that darkness returning inside him. The Hayden I’ve been getting to know for the past week is nothing like the man in that letter. That man was a broken, shattered, semblance of a person who truly just wanted out.
“That darkness will always be inside me I think. But as you can see, I’m changed now. I told you before that deciding to kill myself felt brave. But, now deciding to live feels braver.”
I exhale at his important and meaningful proclamation. “I’m glad, but…wow. I can’t imagine how your family reacted after reading that.” I shudder at the thought. If I was his mum…If that was a note Booker had written…
“I’ve never shown that note to anybody, Vi.” My eyes fly to his just as he pierces me with a gravity in his gaze that, quite frankly, scares me.
“How?” I clench the note in my hand as if the reality of it is somehow different now. “Surely your family found it.”
“I never set it out. I never even told my doctor I wrote it.” He shakes his head, his eyes looking downward as if he’s embarrassed by this admission. “I’ve never told anybody. Not even Theo or Leslie.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Why me? Why did you choose to share this with me?” My voice cracks at the end in a panicky fear that the meaning behind all this is more than I can handle.
His grey eyes lift and stare into mine with an unspoken answer that I feel like a strike straight through my heart. The vulnerability and connection in this one look blossoms beneath my chest and brings tears to my eyes.
“Why me, Hayden?” I repeat again. My body moves closer to him as if operating with a mind of its own.
His jaw clenches as he leans toward me as well, inching himself further and further into my air space. His warm breath touches the skin on my shoulder. I reach my hand out and delicately touch the leather cuff on his left wrist. He hisses softly and his eyes fixate on my hand, but he does not pull away.
Hayden Clarke has just entrusted me with the deepest, darkest part of his soul. In that moment…In that second…In that briefest flicker of time ticking away on the watch around his wrist, I do exactly what my soul is screaming in agony for me to do. What my heart is pounding beneath my chest in anticipation for.
I kiss him.
God do I kiss him.
I clutch his coarse jaw in my hands and press my lips to his in a fierce, passionate encounter. My mouth moves against his, coaxing and pleading. And, like the sway of a pendulum, his lips return my movement. It’s in that second that everything inside of me clicks into place. Emotion rips through me as we rock back and forth, and I allow myself to believe that he feels the intense bind between us just as I do. His hands wrap firmly around my waist and push me back onto the cushion. The weight of him on top of me is intoxicating and heady. My body is screaming to take him inside of me with every passing second. I move to wrap my legs around him, but he suddenly rips himself away from me.