Page 82 of Everything In Between
I waste no time ripping apart the packaging and revealing the box inside. I tear through the thin layer of tape and pull out the Styrofoam box. IhateStyrofoam, but I manage to put my ick on the back burner and open up the present.
What’s inside is even more stunning, even more breathtaking, than the expensive necklace that’s now sitting proudly around my neck.
“Oh my god,” I say, taking in the small snow globe in my hands. “This is?—”
Before I can finish my sentence, I give it a shake, watching as the snow flits around the globe surrounding the couple sledding down a steep hill, arms wrapped tightly around each other.
“That day was really special to me,” Hayes says, his voice sounding thick. “I wanted to commemorate it. I hope it’s not too cheesy.”
“Not at all,” I respond, eyes still glued to the pair on the sled. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten something more thoughtful.”
To anyone else, it may appear a trinket, a souvenir, to my time spent here in Wisconsin. But to me, it’s the immortalization of when I knew what we had was special, and what we could build together could be something magical.
I’ll never forget falling asleep that night, tucked warm and safe against Hayes’s bare chest in front of the flickering fireplace. The minute I closed my eyes, I could see it all, exactly what he said. The milestones.
The good. The bad. And everything in between.
Now, more than ever, I want that with him. We’ve barely begun our journey together, but I know without a doubt that it’s going to be the journey, the partnership, of a lifetime.
“Your second present isn’t really something tangible,” I say. His eyes crease a little in suspicion. “It’s more of something I want to share with you.”
He’s been asking me for this, waiting patiently until I was ready to share this side of me with him. Share the side of me that only those closest get to see.
My skin feels itchy, but I push my discomfort aside, knowing sharing this vulnerable side of myself with him will be worth it. I know I can trust Hayes, and I want him to know this part of me.
He’s watching me intently, waiting for me to share what’s on my mind. “Okay.” His confusion dissipates, and he waits for me to explain myself further.
Setting the snow globe down, I hold up one finger. “One second.”
I bound up the stairs, throwing open the door to Hayes’s room and rummage around in the closet to find my stashed guitar. Unbuckling the case, I run my fingers over the smooth strings of the instrument and pull it out, hoisting it up into my arms and setting the strap around my shoulders before going back to the living room.
Hayes is waiting patiently. When I round the corner, his eyes widen as he takes in the guitar in my hands.
I brace myself and raise my chin, knowing that this is an important moment for the both of us.
“I want to sing for you. One of my songs.”
THIRTY-ONE
hayes
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 25
My heart feelslike it has jumped into my throat.
“Really?” I ask her gently, worried that if I speak too loudly her offer will disappear into thin air.
Jersey settles back into her spot next to me and wrings her hands in her lap. Her normally full lips are pressed into a tight line and her typically glittering eyes are more reserved.
She gives me a small nod and shies away from my gaze. “I’ve only ever played my original songs for a few people. It’s not something I share easily. Maybe someday I’ll be able to share my words with the world, but until then, they’re the biggest part of my identity that I still claim for myself.”
“This one’s calledA Piece of Me,” she says, reverently.
I start a bit, understanding now why she averted her eyes when I said I would carry a piece of her with me a few moments ago.
Her eyes find mine and I still see the trepidation behind them. I clear my throat and give her hand a squeeze. “I hope you know by now how much you mean to me, and that I’d do anything to protect you. I’ll do the same for your words. Itmeans the world to me that you’re trusting me with something so sacred. I promise I don’t take that lightly.”
Her gaze softens, and she looks down at the guitar in her lap. Untangling her hands from mine, she places them on the strings and then takes a deep breath, blowing it out and then starting the first chord progression.
