Page 60 of You & I, Rewritten

I keep walking—past the parking lot, where I know his car is waiting somewhere, past the hospital’s entry sign off the main street. I keep walking once I reach the side of the road, the rush of the speeding traffic sending gusts of wind in every direction. Graham has been silently following me, always just a few steps behind.

Finally, I stop.

I feel him behind me, his breath on the back of my neck. He places his hand ever so gently on my shoulder, his warm touch makes me want to curl into him and melt in his arms. But I stand rigid. “Talk to me, love…what can I do?”

“He’s dead.”

My words hang between us, a deafening silence that makes my skin crawl.

“My father’s dead, Graham,” I roar, turning to face him. His face falls, his tired eyes searching mine for…I don’t know what exactly, but his gaze pierces through my heart.

“I…God, Will…I’m so sorry.” His apology physically hurts me.He did nothing wrong.From the very start of all of this, Graham had been the one pushing me to be here, and me being the asshole I am, didn’t listen. “What do you need? Do you want to talk about it?” He takes a step toward me, attempting to pull me closer, but I’m being suffocated right now. Choked by guilt and remorse and so much hurt that I can barely see straight.

“What do you want me to say, Graham? That I miss him?” I yell, take a step back and put my hands up in front of me. He looks like I just slapped him, but he stands his ground.

“Should I say how badly I fucked up and should have been there? Or how about the fact that I hate him? Because I do. I hate him so much that sometimes it’s all I can think about. I'm feelingallof those things right now. I’m fucking livid. I’m numb. I’m heartbro…” My voice fails me as the pain in my chest explodes, shattering me into a state of hysteria. It hurts to cry but it’s killing me to hold it in any longer, so I let it all out, falling into Graham’s waiting arms.God, this poor man.

He holds me tight, his arms shielding me from the world and the heartache. Even in the midst of the pain I’m feeling right now, I know that I love this man in a forever kind of way—it’s the most powerful emotion I’ve ever felt.

“I hate him so much, Graham.” I cling to his shirt, burying my face in his neck. “But I hate myself more for how much I want him to tell me that I was enough and that he loves me. That he’s proud of me. And now he’s drunk himself to death and he’ll never be able to. He chose THAT over me.”

Letting go of his embrace, he grips me by the arms. “Look at me, Will.” My head is slumped against his chest. “Look at me,” he repeated, more forcefully this time. I lift my gaze to his, my vision blurred through the tears.

Graham takes my face in his, forcing our eyes to lock.

“This will mean nothing to you right now or even tomorrow or over the next few days and months, but I promise you this, my sweet and beautiful man, you are so much more than enough.” He kisses my cheek softly, lingering in the most tender and loving way. “There are no words to take away the pain you’re feeling, but I need you to know that I will be here for you every single step of the way.”

He looks at me with tears streaming down his beautiful face, pulling me back into his arms once more.

“I will spend the rest of my life tellingandshowing you that if you need me to, because I love you, Will. I am so sorry you are hurting, but I will help you through it with every ounce of love I have.”

Despite the insurmountable ache in my heart, I know he will.

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

I knowI need to open it.

Since the moment Lana placed the envelope in my lap, her words—He wanted you to have this…pleasedon’t hate me—have been repeating over and over again in the disjointed fragments that is my mind. The unknown meaning of her statement only adds to the immense grief and anger I’m feeling. I cannot take it any longer. Not knowing is threatening to send me into a deeper state of madness and heartbreak.

Grabbing the envelope from Graham’s coffee table, I sit in his oversized armchair, running my hand along the soft but worn gray fabric. He’s left me alone, if only momentarily, but I can hear the faint sounds of the shower echoing down the hall. Every fiber of my being wants to be with him right now, to let the warmth of the water release the tension I’ve been feeling all afternoon. But I know that if I don’t get this over with now, I’ll only be prolonging the inevitable.

I turn the envelope over, feeling its weight in my hands. I feel numb, like whatever is in this envelope is going to gut me to my core. Ripping its seal, I empty the contents into my lap. There’s a smaller envelope with my name written in slanted handwriting. Even though it’s been years, I slowly run my fingertip over my father’s distinguishable script, feeling the indents of each letter as he firmly pressed them onto the page.

Tears fill my eyes.He wanted you to have this.I’m not ready to read what I’m assuming is a letter from my father. I can’t. So instead, I set his envelope down and grab the thick stack of papers bound together with a black clip and my heart stops. The wordsI Should Have Told You Thenare centered on the front.

Why thehellwould my father have a copy of Lana’s novel? That’s when I notice it at the bottom of the page, right aligned in a small font.

Written by Scott Russell.

This must be some sort of a sick joke. I quickly turn the pages through my fingers, realizing that this isdefinitelyher book.I feel sick to my stomach.No.Lana and I have been working on this together for months. We’ve spokenin-person about it…I know she wrote this. I look back to the letter. Confusion and rage surge through my veins as my hands begin to shake.

“No, no, NO…There isno waythis is real,” I yell fanning through the pages one more time, knowing no one is there to hear me.My head pounds as I try to go over every interaction I’ve had with Lana over the last several months. She was private and shy, sure. She mentioned how being in crowds wasn’t her thing, but this? I…I don’t understand. She knew my father? Whywould she do this to me?

I feel betrayed, both personally and professionally. Lana was welcomed into my life from the very first moment I met her. I invited her home, for fuck’s sake.God, she met my parents!The ache in my chest is debilitating. My heart feels like it’s been punched out of my chest and the more I try to make sense of this situation, the more confused I become.

The tears fall now, burning hot on my skin. I defended her. I fought for her. I fell in love with her words. How thehellam I going to explainthisto Graham?Oh shit…Mitch!The publicity, all that money spent, how did I not see asinglered flag?

I clutch the manuscript to my chest, crumpling its pages against my sobs. This is too much. After everything that happened today,thisis too fucking much, and I don’t know if I’ll survive it. I turn the letter over and over between unsteady fingers, the tears now falling so rapidly that I can barely see, but I need an explanation. I need to make sense of all of this.

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