Wren and Indie are sitting under a big blanket, while I’m on Indie’s huge sofa. She’s not long been home from her honeymoon, and she has to deal with me and my crushed heart.
“Talk to us, babe,” Wren says.
“I don’t know what’s going on with me.”
“Start anywhere you can. How are you feeling?” Indie asks.
I shrug. “Weird. I don’t know. It’s horrible, like heavy and cold and stupid. There’s nothing, just emptiness. I hate Reid, and I can’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe?”
Indie twists to face me. “You don’t hate him.”
“I do. I can’t breathe.”
“Mila, that’s love.”
My face falls. “What?”
“You’re in love with Reid,” Wren adds, telling me in plain English.
“What the fuck?” The words burst violently from my diaphragm.
They both flinch.
“What the actual fuck? That’s bullshit. I finally find out what real love is, and it feels like dying?”
Indie smiles sympathetically. “It doesn’t always feel like that. If you were with him right now, it would be the best feeling in the world. You need him as much as he needs you.”
My stomach rolls with nausea at the thought of him feeling like this, too.
“I don’t know what to do.”
Wren leans forward and grabs something out of her bag.
A wad of papers and a dried rose?
“What’s that?”
“Read it,” she says, dropping it down on my lap.
“A manuscript?” I say, picking up the rose from the printed pages. One I recognise. “Wait, this is the one in Reid’s office. Where did you get it?”
“Mila, just read it.”
I press my finger to the gnarly thorn, and my pulse races. “When did you see him?”
Indie pats my trembling hand. “We met up with him yesterday. He asked us to give this to you.”
“I don’t mind not finishing this manuscript. I’m not in a reading mood.”
“Mila!” Wren throws her hands up. “Indie and I are going into the kitchen. Let us know when you’re done.”
What the hell is going on?
“Now?”
Indie stands up with Wren. “Read it!”
There’s not much left so it won’t take me long, but why the hell do I need to read this today?
I curl up and that’s when I notice something thick behind the first page. I pull a folded piece of paper out and open it.
Reid’s handwriting. I breathe in through my nose as a fresh wave of heartache rolls through my chest.
Dropping the rose onto my lap, I read his note.
Mila,
You once told me that you couldn’t read my mind. Well, here it is. This is everything, all that I am, and I just hope that it’s enough for you.
I love you doesn’t come close to expressing what you mean to me, but I do, more than you will ever know.
Yours in every way imaginable,
Reid
My stomach flips over. Oh my God.
I read with my heart in tatters and tears running down my cheeks because this wasn’t written by an author he’d found. It’s him. Reid Hayden Walker. This book is his life, and I’m the girl.
I’m the reason he was late to his grandad’s, which might have been the reason he died. If Reid had been on time, he would have called for help and the paramedics might have saved him.
As I read the final pages, he reveals that he has loved me all along.
This entire time.
I wipe my tears and swallow the heartache and guilt from his words.
How could he still love me after I kept him from being with his grandad? He was lying on the floor waiting for Reid while I distracted him with what was probably a load of bullshit. I’m the reason his grandad didn’t get help when he so desperately needed it.
He said in the manuscript many times that he doesn’t blame me. He never has, not once. He only blames himself.
That hurts so much more than I ever thought it could.
“Mila, are you okay?” Indie says.
They rush towards me just as I get up.
I throw the blanket. “I-I need to leave.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea right now?”
“It’s me,” I say, shoving the manuscript towards them. “This is his book. It’s about him… and me.”
Indie smiles with tears in her eyes. “You’re going to him?”
I nod and grab my bag. “I’ll speak to you both later.”
“Are you okay to drive? I could take you,” Wren offers.
“No, I’m okay. I’m finally okay.”
I leave them, get in my little Beetle, and I drive to Reid’s. The manuscript and single red rose sit on the passenger seat.
It’s not far but I feel like the roads have grown longer, like they’re stretching and making my journey to him torturous.
I park on the road outside his house with no time to slow down to turn and park in his drive. He’s so close. As soon as I can, I run. I run to his front door and try the handle.
Locked.
Jabbing the bell, I ring it about ten times. Hurry up.
He opens the door, running his hand over his head and scowling, but that scowl is wiped away the moment he sees me.
His mouth parts, and my heart explodes.
I love you. How could I not have known how much I love you?
“Mila.”
I hold the manuscript up. The rose is still on my passenger seat.
He tilts his head and takes it, but his eyes never leave mine.
“I finished it.”
“Come in,” he says, standing back.
I step over the threshold, and something inside me soothes.
I’m home.
Reid walks to his kitchen, and I follow, both of us deathly silent.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I ask when we come to a stop in his kitchen.
“I was scared. Scared that if I told you we would become something, you would have the power to crush me. I was scared that if we were together you might leave me or do something completely deplorable and die.”
“God,” I mutter, my heart fracturing at the pain and fear in his words. “Your grandad,” I rasp. “He died when we were together. I barely remember…” I barely remember what we were doing. Reid must see it vividly, it’s followed him around, haunting him for years.
“We weren’t really doing anything.” The ghost of a smile touches his lips. “We were talking about books. You were ranting, actually, about the hero always saving the heroine. It was almost thirty minutes that we stood outside and talked.”
“I-I’m so sorry, Reid. I’m sorry that I expected you to talk to me for so long that day. I didn’t think about you having something to do for a second. I mean, you were outside your house, obviously about to go somewhere and then—”
He closes his eyes for a second and shakes his head. “Stop. Please. I didn’t show you that so you would feel guilty. I had to tell you because I want to share everything, no matter how hard it is to rip open old wounds. I can’t stand the thought of you blaming yourself, so please don’t. Nothing about that day was on you. I knew I was going to be late, and I knew my grandad wouldn’t have minded.”
“You blame yourself.”
He winces. “Yes, well, despite knowing that he would forgive me, I haven’t managed to do that myself.”
“Why did you write it?”
“It was actually my therapist’s idea. It was a rough draft, but it helped me see things more clearly. I finished it this week because it was the best way of telling you when I couldn’t find the words. I won’t ever be free of my guilt, but I’m no longer consumed by it.”
“I’m still sorry.”
“I know.”
“Your family don’t hate me. At least, they didn’t seem to.”
“Of course, they don’t. Mila, it wasn’t your fault. I’m not the first person to be late to go and see someone. Things happen. It wasn’t your fault, so no one hates you. They know how I feel about you.”
“They know? Phoebe?”
His lips curl, and I want to trace them with my finger. “Yeah, she loved meeting you properly that day. I’ve had text after text about you.”
“Reid…”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Everything got so messy. I didn’t know how to handle it, what I wanted, or how I felt. It’s been confusing, looking for something I wasn’t sure of.”
He smiles, as though he knows exactly what I’m talking about. “I’ve spent my whole life searching for happiness.”
“And what have you found?”
“You.”
My lungs deflate.
Me. He’s been searching for me.
Tears sting as I try to fight back emotion too big for me to even process.
He takes a step closer, probably sensing my impending meltdown.
His finger strokes my cheek, and I melt. Closing my eyes, I lean forward, and my heart tries to break through my ribcage. I can smell and feel him again, fresh from a shower, and devastatingly perfect.
“I’ve been across the road the whole time, Reid.”
“I know, but for the past nine years, you may as well have been a hundred miles away.”
“We’re here now.”
“Mila,” he whispers.
With my chest against his, I open my eyes and tilt my head up.
His breath mixes with mine and he watches me like I’m some dream he doesn’t want to wake up from.
“I’m here, Reid.”
“I want to tell you that I love you. I’ve wanted to say it for a long time, but those words never seem enough. How can three words possibly convey the magnitude of how I feel about you? They can’t, but I love you, Mila.”
Oh my God. Hearing him speak the words almost knock me to the floor.
My pulse races.
“Reid. You were the reclusive neighbour who I never really thought about. I had no idea of the real you or how much you were going to change my life. I never thought for one second that I would fall so madly in love with you that I can barely think straight.”
His forehead touches mine. He looks like he’s in pain. “Say that again.”
“I love you. I didn’t think it was possible to be this in love.”
He sucks in a breath before his mouth covers mine, and then I’m being carried to his bedroom.