Page 89 of If You Stayed

“Fully.”

He looked down at his hands sitting in his lap. He fiddled with his nails and shrugged. “I’m glad that didn’t happen.”

His words threw me off slightly and stung my heart. “You are?”

“I mean, sure. We would’ve had more years to love each other, we would’ve had more memories, but I’m glad you didn’t come back. I think we needed to be apart to really appreciate this now. Besides…you wouldn’t have Ava if we’d stayed together back then. What a crime that would’ve been.”

“She saved me,” I confessed. “I don’t think I would’ve made it through life without you if it wasn’t for her.”

“She was your foundation.”

I raised an eyebrow, wanting him to expand on that thought.

His smile slipped out. “The solid ground that you needed to begin again. Before her, things probably felt rocky and unstable. Ava’s your solid ground. She’s not your house; she’s your home.”

“Home,” I softly sang. “Yes. She’s home to me.” I shook my head, still feeling guilty. “I just feel as if it’s so unfair to you, though. You’ve missed out on so much. On your memories, on Elijah. And I still feel so awful, Gabriel, for not telling you.”

“Kierra,” he whispered, “stop.”

“I can’t. I am so sorry for everything I’ve done, Gabriel. I am so sorry for—”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said. “And I forgive you.”

I looked up at him, shaking my head. “How can you forgiveme for that, though?”

“Because I’m almost certain you’ve spent the last decade or two beating yourself up over the accident. You don’t have to carry that anymore, Kierra. I forgive you. Now it’s up to you to forgive yourself.”

I knew that would take time, and it would be hard for me to do so. Self-forgiveness was one of the hardest things to do. I’d watched my clients deal with the heaviness of guilt, and I worked endlessly to help them break through their past mistakes. Yet, as with most things in life, that was easier said than done.

“I’ll work at it,” I swore. “At forgiving myself.”

“Good.” He crossed his arms. “Can you do something for me, though?”

“What’s that?”

“Tell me about Elijah. Any and every little detail about him.”

I tilted my head toward him and smiled shyly. “Well, he loved superheroes. He hated cats. He thought Legos were the greatest invention ever. He always wanted a dog. He loved swimming and was a better swimmer than both of us combined. He refused to eat anything green but liked to eat onions like candy.”

“Weirdo,” Gabriel laughed.

“Total weirdo,” I agreed with a smile. “Our favorite weirdo. I have notebooks of letters I’d write to him every week since he passed.”

“Do you still write the letters?”

“Yes. No matter what.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Because I miss him,” I confessed with a slight nod. “Writing him letters felt like a way to still be connected to him. It’s silly, I know.”

“It’s not silly. It’s beautiful.”

I tugged on the edge of my long-sleeved shirt and shrugged. “In the early stages, I wrote down every single detail about who he’d been. I wanted to remember everything about him. I wanted a time capsule of sorts to hold on to the memory of him forever. If you’d like, you can read them.”

“You’d let me?”

“I’d let you do anything that made life easier for you.”

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