Page 120 of From West, With Regret

But he’s already made it to the top and is pushing through the door.

When I reach the landing, he’s standing in the middle of the room, looking down at the pieces of crumpled-up parchment lying on the floor.

I clear my throat, my stomach suddenly performing somersaults. I cross the room and bend down to pick up my drawing. “These are…” I shake my head and begin to fold the papers.

“Wait,” he says, placing his hand over mine, stopping me.

I slowly open them back up, and West takes them. The top paper is of his necklace, but he shifts them, revealing the drawing underneath. He ghosts his finger along the sketched lines of his own hand, recognizing each curve and line. I don’t know why, but I feel nervous. Exposed and raw. They represent the most vulnerable parts of my brain.

Heath found this piece the other night, and West was too wrapped up in the chaos to focus on my drawing or the meaning.

His hands.

His necks bobs as he swallows, taking it in. “London…” My name tumbles out of his mouth, and my gaze drops.

We’re suspended in time, letting the heaviness of this moment weigh down on us.

“When…” he chokes out, his voice thick with emotion. He clears his throat, then looks up at me with glassy, blue eyes. “When did you draw this?”

“This one?” I raise my eyebrows. My pulse is racing, but a blanket of comfort wraps its arms around my heart. “A few months ago, but it wasn’t the first.”

“It wasn’t?”

I shake my head, biting on the inside of my cheek.

“How long?” he asks, searching my face for answers. “How long were you drawing my hands?”

I shrug, despite knowing the answer, and I look away, unable to tell him the full truth. It’s amazing how my mind was trying to give me clues to my memories, using my art to help me remember. But in the end, it didn’t matter.

I was drawing my memories of West without knowing they were him.

“Since I could start drawing again after the accident.” A tear slips from my eye. “After I lost my memory of you.”

“Hey,” he hushes, resting his hand on his crutch. He uses his free hand to crane my head back up to face him, and I wrap mine around his, using him as an anchor. There’s worry deep in his cobalt blue eyes. “Why are you crying?”

I blow a heavy breath through my lips. “I drew you for fifteen years, and I never remembered. How, when I our love is so strong? How could I have possibly forgotten you?”

The guilt and shame swells inside me, thinking back to that day at Coney Island. I’d looked right at him. He’d had hope in his eyes, holding his breath as he waited for me, but I gave him nothing. I forced him to walk away, heartbroken.

Realizing where I’m going, he drops my drawings on the floor and closes the small gap between us.

“My art didn’t bring my memories back,” I confess, my lip trembling. “My art didn’t bringyouback to me.”

“No.” He frowns, then traces his free finger against my soft cheek, pressing it into the space where he knows my dimple will form when I smile. The corner of his mouth lifts, despite my sadness. “It didn’t bring you back to me.”

I close my eyes, shame filling my gut. I shouldn’t feel it, but I can’t stop the torrent of waves coming. With how strong my love for West is, I still can’t comprehend how easily he was stolen from my mind, and how it took this long to get him back. I’m caught up in my spiraling thoughts when he ghosts his thumb across my bottom lip, causing me to open my eyes again. This time, I’m looking directly into his that always bring me back.

“Your art didn’t bring you back to me, London,” he whispers. “It couldn’t bring me back because I never left.”

Emotion overtakes me, and I shudder in his grip.

“I’ve always been with you,” he adds. “I love you, London, and I will give you the life you deserve. I will spend every minute reminding you that you are worthy of someone’s love. I will always be your light when you feel lost in the dark. I will love the fucking hell out of you for the rest of our lives.”

“I love you.” My mouth pulls into a smile, and everything clicks into place.

I may have spent years trapped in the dark, but West has always been my light.

He was my past. He is my present. And now he’s my future.

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