Page 72 of Rewriting the Story

I don’t want to jinx myself, and if I tell them everything is going well, it might jump me back into the block I had before I came face to face with my own form of emotional torture. At least I’m actually writing again, though. That has to be a good sign or something.

It does feel good to pretend I could still be a writer, even after wanting to trash this manuscript about a thousand times since I started it.

Two sharp knocks on my door as I gather my laptop and notes into my bag make me pause, and I already know who stands on the other side of the door. When Oliver’s face greets me with a weird smirk, I get worried.

“Is everything okay?”

Now he looks confused. “Yeah, why?”

“Your face looks weird.”

He sighs heavily. “I was trying not to look so menacing.”

“Honestly, I get more worried when you don’t look how you normally do.” I wave my hand out, and he comes in, sitting on the edge of my bed as I lean against the small desk I have in my room. “Did you want to talk about something, or is this some sort of wedding freak out Grant thinks you’re going to have?”

He only rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to freak out, so if you could all stop assuming I’m going to, that would be wonderful.” He rubs his hand down his chin as I wait for him to hopefully explain himself.

Or he could just not say anything. That used to happen a lot when I first met him at Grand Mountain. He would talk, and I would always assume he had more to say, but he would remain quiet. As I got to know him better, I realized he’s not a small talk kind of guy, and I got used to his one and done sentences.

“So, what’s up?” I ask again, a bit worried about whatever he came in here to say.

“I just wanted to check in with you about things.”

I pinch my eyebrows, still confused. “Uh, why? And what things?”

“Why do you sound so confused?”

“Because you came in here willingly to ask me how I am.”

He throws his hands up. “Why is that so weird?”

“Have you met yourself?” I say, a laugh slipping out on accident. “Oliver, you and I have never made small talk about our feelings ever, so color me confused.”

“That’s not true!” he says as he stands. I’ve never seen him so animated before, and all of us should really thank Paige. She’s softened him immensely if he’s really in here to talk with me about how I’m feeling. “When you picked me up from the police station, we talked about stuff.”

“Yes, but you also yelled at me for not driving fast enough when I was already at fifteen over,” I joke. “And that was a few years ago, so don’t blame me for reacting like this when we’ve barely seen one another.”

Out of everyone, Oliver and I stayed in contact the most. Grant was here and there, but Oliver and I probably checked in about once a month. After Grant was hospitalized last year, Oliver called me to talk it out. I was worried, but Grant sent me a bunch of memes when he was feeling better.

“Whatever,” he says as he sits back down. “I just wanted to ask you how you’re doing being back in close proximity to the devil.”

I scoff as I sit in the desk chair, knowing he’s talking about Amelia. I thought for sure when I saw them both again, they would get along, but I guess some things never change.

“It’s weird, honestly. We’ve had a few conversations with one another about everything that happened, but they always leave me feeling more confused.”

“Well, that tracks. Amelia is the most confusing and terrifying person I’ve ever met.”

My knee jerk reaction is to stand up for her, to tell Oliver he’s wrong. She’s just complex, complicated, and has made more than a few mistakes, but I bite my tongue. I no longer know who Amelia is. I’m not hers and she’s not mine, and I’m not going to defend her actions. Even I don’t understand why she does what she does.

I'm also tired of making excuses for her when I talk about our situation. I’ve defended her in my mind so many times, I often forget how badly she hurt me. I’m done pretending like there’s an excuse for what she did, because there isn't.

If I was in her situation, I never would have done what she did. In fact, I doubt running and never looking back would have ever crossed my mind.

“Do you still love her?”

His question surprises me. “You of all people asking me that feels a little crazy. In another timeline, it’s Grant asking me that.”

“I’m just curious, Henry. Have you seen the way you two still look at one another? If I didn't know your history, I would think something was up.”

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