Page 140 of How You See Me
Me:OK.
Grant:Are you OK?
Me:No.
Grant:Then, I’ll have a bottle of wine and a facial mask waiting. I’ll pamper you until you feel better.
Me:You’re the best.
Grant:I know. Room #513.
I toss my phone back into my bag and let my vision melt with the smear of headlights and desert shadows speeding past my window. The landscape blurs like my thoughts—like Hayes and me in this moment.
The silence is crushing. My body aches from everything I’m holding inside and trying not to feel. I want to scream, cry, or fill the emptiness with pointless chatter, but I can’t find the energy for any of it.
“Is Grant at the hotel?” he asks, slicing through the stillness.
“Yeah.”
He nods once, satisfied I won’t be alone, and fixes his eyes on the road as the neon glow of Las Vegas creeps over the horizon.
Then, more silence.
We soon park in the roundabout of a towering hotel, all gold glass and glittering light, a sharp contrast to the dark emptiness in the van.
Without a word, Hayes climbs out, rounds the van, and opens my door like he has dozens of times before. But this time, his movements are too careful, too deliberate, too distant. He grabs my suitcase and easel from the back with practiced ease despite the new clench of his jaw and gentle hunch of his shoulders. He’s unraveling and there’s no stopping it. Not now. Not when we're thousands of miles apart.
We walk through the hotel lobby and ride the elevator, not touching, not speaking. When we stop outside Grant’s room, reality slams into me.
This is it. The end of the road. It feels final in a way I didn’t expect.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I admit, my voice trembling despite my efforts to be strong. How do you say goodbye to someone who’s become your everything, even if it’s only for a little while?
He reaches out, brushing his hands down my arms as his gaze travels to something beyond me. It feels like aneternity since he last touched me, the distance we’ve kept too suffocating to do anything about. Everything about this and why he’s leaving hurts. His sister shouldn’t have to fight for her life, and while his place is with her, I want to be there for him. Help him when he struggles to cope and never have to say goodbye.
“Call me when you get there?”
“I will.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a square white box.
“What’s this?”
“Something to remember our trip.”
I blink back tears. “I love how you call itoursnow.”
“It became ours the second I carried you out of that dive bar in Nashville. I knew then I’d never be the same.”
I rise onto my toes and kiss him, aching to savor every second we have left.
“Can I open it?”
“I rather you wait until I’m gone.” His deep voice grows rough when he adds, “This is hard enough.”
“Okay.” I tuck the box into my bag and circle my arms around him, burying my face in his chest where I can pretend pretend he’s not hurting, and this is just another day we’re gifted together. “Thank you. I know I’ll cherish it because it came from you.”
He holds me tighter than he ever has before, lifting me off the floor with his face pressed into my neck. “I’m sorry it has to end this way.”
“It was always going to hurt. No matter how it ended.”
