Page 12 of The Heartbreak List

He swallows thickly. Presses his lips to the spot where his tears dry on my shoulder. “I love you, baby. Let’s get some sleep.”

Neither of us falls asleep. Not until the sky goes from inky to charcoal and the sun is almost breaking the horizon. But we don’t talk either. It’s too much. Too hard.

Gray’s breath finally grows soft and deep and slow. It’s rhythmic and comforting. How many times have I fallen asleep in his arms believing we would have forever? That we’d get married and move close to my parents. He’d continue to rep his clients from his home office in between trips out of state while I’d work my way up at RAM. And then we’d have our first child. A little boy with my eyes and his nose.

My heart cracks down the middle all over again. That isn’t my future anymore. I’ll never be a mother, and we won’t buy that house with the home office.

I climb out of bed when Gray rolls onto his back. Grab one of his T-shirts and slip it on as I leave the bedroom. How can I sleep when I’m running on limited time? How can I dwell on a future I will never see? Gray wants to pretend that this is only a speed bump because it hurts too much to be realistic, but I can’t do that. I don’t have the luxury of time anymore.

In the kitchen I fill a glass with OJ and grab the chunky knitted throw from the couch on my way out onto the balcony. It’s cold and quiet, and I wrap the shawl around my shoulders.

A few cars move down below. People on the early shift or perhaps they’re coming home late. Are they moving on autopilot? Do they have any idea how quickly everything can change? I hope not.

I tuck my feet up under me on the padded cocoon chair with the fern wall at my back. The sun is sliding over the horizon, pushing back the gray as it rises. It has those soft wavy edges as it kisses everything with a promising glow.

Standing on that ledge tonight…I wanted…to feel alive. If I have a finite amount of time, I want every minute to count. I’ll do the therapies and the medicines like Gray and my family want me to do. I’ll try to get better. But I need to live too. Experience things. Enough for a lifetime.

What was it that Theo said last night? That rescuing a damsel in distress was on his bucket list.

I put my empty glass on the small table beside me and pick up the notepad and pencil Gray keeps there. Flipping through to a fresh page, I write down three words…

My Bucket List.

Chapter Five

Theo

Standingbehindthebarriersat the bottom of the rock wall, I crane my neck. Pez crawls up the face with nothing but climbing shoes, shorts, and extreme confidence. He barely pauses to dig his hands into the chalk bag slung from the belt around his waist as he focuses on beating the previous competitor’s time.

My friend acts like he has a death wish, but he climbs like he’s Spiderman. A few months ago he had a serious accident and that didn’t stop him. It didn’t even slow him down. Once he was cleared to climb, he was back at it. Without ropes or harnesses or any sense of caution. But he has this intuitive ability to read the veins and cracks and grit in front of him before he ever lays a hand on it.

Indoor climbing is practically a walk in the park for him, and he makes speed climbing look like an artform as he moves fluidly up the face without fear or apparent thought.

My sister Shae would call it an ADHD skill. That Pez has the data sets from hundreds of climbs under his belt and can use each and every one of them to analyze which path will take him to the top with ease and which will lead to certain death. And he can do it far faster than most people.

His girlfriend Ramzi watches from close by. As usual her gaze is glued to him, and she looks like her heart is in her mouth. She’s seen him fall before. Seen him break bones. I can imagine each time he climbs un-roped she freaks out a little. Wonders if it will be the last time.

Pez doesn’t have those data sets when it comes to Ramzi, and that girl has a lot of issues. It took them a long time to get together, and it almost ended before it could really begin. They’re both seeing a therapist to help them find their path together.

Sometimes I wonder whether I should talk to a therapist about what the hell is wrong with me. But I don’t think some shrink in an office with a couch and notepad is ready for the level of fucked up I have going on.

I couldn’t be in love like Pez and Ramzi. Not even with therapy. I was once, and that was enough. I learned who I am and what I’m capable of. And love—perfect, white dresses and picket fences love—isn’t on that list. Life is too short for monotony and monogamy.

Life is simply too fucking short.

I picture Indy on that rooftop. I picture the bad fit of her jacket swamping her, and the copper tones in her hair. She’d felt brittle when I put my hands around her waist to lift her off the ledge.

I shouldn’t be thinking about her. It’s pointless. Even if she wasn’t dying, she has a fiancé. Even if she didn’t have a fiancé she’d still be dying. And if neither of those things were true, she’d still be the type of girl who wants more than I ever was willing to offer her that night in the club restroom. But she’s been in my thoughts more than I care to admit to. Is she in good spirits? Is the radiation helping? Is she sleeping at all? Or does she replay our conversation on the rooftop to herself in the middle of the night like I do?

Because honestly, I can’t stop thinking about her belief in statistics. If they’re truly the big picture, then I should have syphilis. I should be in jail. I should be dead. I am neither dead nor in jail, and thanks to routine bloodwork I know I don’t have syphilis. Or any other nasties.

But she’s certain she’s dying. Six months. No future. And what did I say? Something stupidly vague about statistics not meaning much.

Lucas, one of the other bartenders at Line ‘Em Up, joins me. He has his neck craned all the way back and he’s following Pez’s path the same as I am. “He has some balls on him, that’s for sure.”

“Giant, hairy ones.” I grin as Pez reaches the top. I push away thoughts of Indy. All that’s left is for Pez to come back down, and he attacks that with the same vigor as his ascension.

“Want to grab a burger on the way to the bar?” Lucas rubs a hand over his taut stomach. “I’m famished.”

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