Then his mouth is on mine again, his hands tangling in my wet hair as he devours me.
“The plane?”
“It’s mine. It can wait.”
Eventually, we make our way out of the shower and dry each other with fluffy white towels. Then he takes my hand and leads me to his bedroom. He slides under the covers with me. The frantic pace of the shower is gone and in its place is the steady beat of a grief-filled love song. He traces every line of my body with his fingers then his tongue. Love and need fill me so completely they hold together the pieces of my broken heart.
When Nate settles his head by mine on the pillow, his eyes are as tender as they are hot. “I have to let you go,” he whispers. “This has to be goodbye.”
My throat grows tight. “I know.”
20
I FELL asleep in his arms.
When I wake up again, the room is quiet. Nate is gone, his absence nearly tangible.
The covers smell like him. I can still feel the scrape of his beard against my skin. And despite this grief that makes my limbs feel heavy and my eyes gritty, I feel a sense of peace I haven’t in weeks.
I climb out of bed and pull on a robe before padding down the stairs and out to the patio. The sun is high in the sky, warming the air and reflecting off the surface of the pool. Crystal sun catchers hang from the awning and spin in the breeze, casting dapples of light into the shadows by the door.
I close my eyes and step into the sun, letting the light warm my cheeks.
Inhale. Exhale. Let go.
I’m going to be okay.
My head is clear, the fog of the last two days lifted. And with my clarity comes the understanding. I wish I could’ve had more time with Nate, yet I’m glad he had to go. He needed me to let him go. We needed to let go of each other. Holding on to him was hurting him as much as it was hurting me.
And Max…
I open my eyes and tilt my face to the sky. Fluffy white clouds roll across the endless sea of blue.
I can forgive Max. I love him too much to hold on to my anger. I can forgive him. But I can’t marry him. Maybe that will change with time, but I’m not going to ask him to live in limbo for me again. I have to let Max go too.
Canceling the wedding will break my mom’s heart, but I need to make this decision for myself, not her. And regardless of what I may have been thinking when I put on Max’s ring before my accident, regardless of what emotions or revelations I can’t remember, I’m not ready to get married. Not to Max. Not to anyone. I’m still figuring out who I am and where I fit into my world.
I’m giving myself the gift of time and no attachments. Maybe my memories will return or maybe they won’t. But whatever secrets are lost in my damaged brain, I’ve let the person I am—the person I want to become—get lost there too. Or maybe she was lost before my memories were. Maybe I lost myself three months ago when my world spiraled out of control.
I need to call Liz and make arrangements for a flight home. I need to call Max and my mom. Suddenly, calls that terrified me twenty-four hours ago are simply steps on a new path.
I climb the stairs back to Janelle’s room. My phone flashes wildly at me from the nightstand, and I pick it up and open the latest text message.
Nix: Call me. Now.
I straighten. What if something happened to Liz? I hit the button to call her, and as it rings, I imagine half a dozen different scenarios in which Liz or Cally or my mom could have gotten hurt.
Suddenly, my stomach clenches and the peace I was feeling moments ago flees. What if something happened to Max? What if he’s in the hospital and thinks I don’t care? I flinch as guilt punches me in the gut.
“Come on, Nix,” I whisper against the ring.
I’m expecting her voicemail when she finally picks up. “Hanna!”
“Is everything okay?”
“Your blood work is back.”
My shoulders sag in relief. No one is hurt. Nothing horrible has happened. Nix is just being doctor-ish. “Okay? Are my electrolytes still screwed up?”
“Your electrolytes are fine, but your hCG levels are elevated.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re pregnant.”
“The plane?”
“It’s mine. It can wait.”
Eventually, we make our way out of the shower and dry each other with fluffy white towels. Then he takes my hand and leads me to his bedroom. He slides under the covers with me. The frantic pace of the shower is gone and in its place is the steady beat of a grief-filled love song. He traces every line of my body with his fingers then his tongue. Love and need fill me so completely they hold together the pieces of my broken heart.
When Nate settles his head by mine on the pillow, his eyes are as tender as they are hot. “I have to let you go,” he whispers. “This has to be goodbye.”
My throat grows tight. “I know.”
20
I FELL asleep in his arms.
When I wake up again, the room is quiet. Nate is gone, his absence nearly tangible.
The covers smell like him. I can still feel the scrape of his beard against my skin. And despite this grief that makes my limbs feel heavy and my eyes gritty, I feel a sense of peace I haven’t in weeks.
I climb out of bed and pull on a robe before padding down the stairs and out to the patio. The sun is high in the sky, warming the air and reflecting off the surface of the pool. Crystal sun catchers hang from the awning and spin in the breeze, casting dapples of light into the shadows by the door.
I close my eyes and step into the sun, letting the light warm my cheeks.
Inhale. Exhale. Let go.
I’m going to be okay.
My head is clear, the fog of the last two days lifted. And with my clarity comes the understanding. I wish I could’ve had more time with Nate, yet I’m glad he had to go. He needed me to let him go. We needed to let go of each other. Holding on to him was hurting him as much as it was hurting me.
And Max…
I open my eyes and tilt my face to the sky. Fluffy white clouds roll across the endless sea of blue.
I can forgive Max. I love him too much to hold on to my anger. I can forgive him. But I can’t marry him. Maybe that will change with time, but I’m not going to ask him to live in limbo for me again. I have to let Max go too.
Canceling the wedding will break my mom’s heart, but I need to make this decision for myself, not her. And regardless of what I may have been thinking when I put on Max’s ring before my accident, regardless of what emotions or revelations I can’t remember, I’m not ready to get married. Not to Max. Not to anyone. I’m still figuring out who I am and where I fit into my world.
I’m giving myself the gift of time and no attachments. Maybe my memories will return or maybe they won’t. But whatever secrets are lost in my damaged brain, I’ve let the person I am—the person I want to become—get lost there too. Or maybe she was lost before my memories were. Maybe I lost myself three months ago when my world spiraled out of control.
I need to call Liz and make arrangements for a flight home. I need to call Max and my mom. Suddenly, calls that terrified me twenty-four hours ago are simply steps on a new path.
I climb the stairs back to Janelle’s room. My phone flashes wildly at me from the nightstand, and I pick it up and open the latest text message.
Nix: Call me. Now.
I straighten. What if something happened to Liz? I hit the button to call her, and as it rings, I imagine half a dozen different scenarios in which Liz or Cally or my mom could have gotten hurt.
Suddenly, my stomach clenches and the peace I was feeling moments ago flees. What if something happened to Max? What if he’s in the hospital and thinks I don’t care? I flinch as guilt punches me in the gut.
“Come on, Nix,” I whisper against the ring.
I’m expecting her voicemail when she finally picks up. “Hanna!”
“Is everything okay?”
“Your blood work is back.”
My shoulders sag in relief. No one is hurt. Nothing horrible has happened. Nix is just being doctor-ish. “Okay? Are my electrolytes still screwed up?”
“Your electrolytes are fine, but your hCG levels are elevated.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re pregnant.”
