Page 90 of Sunshine

Growing up in Saddlebrook Falls, I always felt homesick for a place I didn’t yet know, desperate to make it somewhere else where I didn’t have to try so hard to be something I’m not.It’s what eventually led me to New York. But now . . . now I crave the one place where I’ve ever felt truly like myself. Where I can be needy and messy and safely fall apart without feeling like I’lllosesomething in the process.

A place where a man with soft brown eyes waits for me, who never fails to remind me of all that I am and everything I’m capable of.

I’ve spent countless hours thinking about Wells over the last four months. I knew that leaving him would be hard, but I didn’t realize the fundamental wreckage I’d have to endure. It took six weeks for me to find my footing again, to ease back into what it’s like living in New York. I moved through my first two weeks of classes in a haze, unable to focus on anything around me. The anxiety I’d left Texas with continued to grow, and it was like trying to swim out of a riptide. It was exhausting, and I felt so helpless and alone.

When Chantal came home from class one day to find me on the floor in the middle of a brutal panic attack, she forced me to make an appointment with a therapist. It’s what led me to Anika, a grief counseling specialist, who’s been able to give me tools to manage my emotions. Those weekly online sessions have become my saving grace as I continue to work through healing the wounds I thought would rule my life forever.

I think the best part of therapy has been learning that I need to absolve myself of any blame for the things that have happened, and that the guilt I feel about my relationship with Wells is a normal byproduct of all the trauma I’ve experienced. It tookmanysessions to share the shame and anger I’d been holding tight to—the things that still flare up on the harder days—but with each new raw truth Ihanded over to Anika, she met me with patience and understanding. Eventually, I learned not to be so afraid of the process.

It breaks my heart that Jason never sought help for himself. That he never told anyone how hard he was struggling under the weight of pressure and expectation. I imagine it would’ve had an impact on him and the choices he made in the months leading up to his accident. But as much as I wish things had turned out differently—for all of us—I find comfort in knowing there’s always a way forward, that while I’ll always hold Jason close to my heart, I can still learn to let go of the disruptive and negative beliefs that bind me to his death.

There’s no denying the impact that losing Jason has left on my life. Grief shapes us, itchangesus. For me, it shifted the trajectory of my life in ways that forced me to rediscover who I am, to reexamine the things I want out of life. It’s what shoved Wells and me back into each other’s orbit. What led to the realization that he might not be just a small piece of my story—he might be what helps shape the rest of it.

When I was younger, I believed that to love someone meant giving up parts of myself. That I’d have to make concessions in exchange for loyalty and devotion. Jason had proven me right with everything he asked of me, and even though I’d never intended for it to happen, I’d played right into a game that I never wanted any part of.

Over time, it eroded much of the confidence I had in myself to make choices that putmyneeds first. It’s what drove my feelings of betrayal when I learned about Emma, why I didn’t trust the choices I was making with Wells.

Now, though, I can look back and see that Wells completely disrupts any notion that I need to give up important parts ofmyself to make room for love. He’s championed my needs and encouraged me to be selfish about what I want for as long as I’ve known him . . . I just wish it didn’t take me so long to see it.AndI wish I never worried so much about everyone else and what they would think about my feelings for him.

When it comes to Wells, I know how things look. I know the impossibility of it all, that Jason’s best friend and girlfriend would come together in grief and end up starting a fire together that burned as hot and bright as it did. To anyone, it might seem messy and irresponsible and a disgrace to the memory of Jason. But the truth of it feels a lot more like an awakening, a universal shift to a path that was there all along. In another life, maybe it would’ve been Wells from the start. Maybe we could have saved ourselves a lot of scrutiny and judgment from a town that thrives on both.

But I don’t regret anything that’s gotten me to where I am today. As flawed as all of this may seem, I would choose this path over and over andoveragain if it meant showing Wells how much he deserves this—because he does. He wants just like anyone else does, and after holding on to his secret for so long, I’m ready to love him out loud and in the open.

I unlock the door and walk in to find Chantal rolling a giant suitcase toward me, her magenta tennis dress a contrast to her dark skin. She finished her last final yesterday, putting her about twelve hours ahead of me on Operation Get Out of Dodge. “Hey,” I say, looking at the duffle and tote bags on the floor by my feet.

She pulls the suitcase up next to them and pushes down the retractable handle. “How’d it go?” she asks.

I smile. “All set.”

She squeals, pulling me in for a tight hug. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

My heart flips—Chantal has been a lifeline for me here. “I’ll miss you more,” I confess. “But I know I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

She pulls back, eyes watery. “Come visit me over the summer? I’ll take you to the Keys, it’ll be so good.”

I nod, smiling. “That sounds amazing.”

Bending down to pick up her bags, she says, “Text me when you land in Texas?”

“Text me when you land in Florida,” I parrot.

“You know I will.”

“Do you need help getting all this down?”

She shakes her head, smirking. “Billy’s on his way up with a cart for me.” Billy, the security guard downstairs, has such an obvious thing for Chantal he’d probably carry her to JFK on his back if she let him.

I laugh, giving her another hug goodbye before I shut the door behind her and head to focus on my own packing.

Five minutes later, there’s a soft knock on the door, and I look around wondering if Chantal’s forgotten something. Or maybe it’s Bernadette finally returning the curling iron I let her borrow over a month ago when she had a date with her TA. I pull open the heavy door, ready to tease whoever it is, but a loud gasp escapes my throat when I see Wells on the other side.

His hair is mussed, his eyes glowing like warm honey as they bounce between mine. “Hey, sunshine,” he says.

“Oh my god,” I say, throwing myself at him.

He wraps his strong arms around me and lifts me off the ground. “God it’s good to see you,” he whispers into my hair. Hesmells so good—so much like him—and it breaks me apart.

“What are you doing here?” I force out through a wave of tears.

---