Page 32 of Letters From a Broken Heart
“Really?”
“Yeah, I can't really explain it. It’s weird, but comments he’s made over the years and how he treated you like a friend and not a girlfriend, it makes me wonder if he regretted what he did.”
Her face falls and I instantly regret opening my mouth. Things are so complicated between us right now. I feel like I keep sticking my foot in my mouth and I don’t know how to stop it.
“Jeez, Taylor, that’s not what I meant. I don’t think he regretted his time with you, you were his best friend.”
“I get it. I feel the same way and I wonder if that’s why he cheated. He never wanted me as his girlfriend, but he didn’t know how to fix what he got himself into. He wasn’t used to fixing his mistakes and he was hoping we’d fix it for him… I never should’ve said yes. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We can't change our past, but we can focus on creating an amazing future together.”
“You never told me what you were thinking about earlier.” Taylor stares deep into my eyes, her blue ones shining with curiosity.
I could play stupid and pretend I don’t remember what she’s talking about, but I'm not going to. She deserves to know where my head is at before we begin anything.
“When I said I was feeling guilty?” I ask, just to make sure we’re on the same page. She nods her head and I take a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “If Jack were still here, you wouldn’t have a new heart, Taylor. I can't live without you. I keep thinking I’m happy I get to keep you, even if I had to lose him in the process and I feel really guilty about that.”
She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she pushes me onto my back and lays her head on my chest again. She wraps her arms around me the best she can when we’re both lying down and is quiet for a while. She doesn’t make me feel judged or like I'm a total jerk for feeling like this. She’s just here for me.
“You should never feel guilty about how you feel,” she whispers. “I keep thinking that maybe I’m getting this second chance so we can fix things between us. I know Jack didn’t sacrifice himself to save me, but maybe in some way his body held on a little longer just so they could harvest his organs. Logically, I know that’s not possible, but it seems like a total Jack thing to do.”
“Like if he couldn’t fix things in life, he’d fix them in death?”
“Yeah.” She rests her chin on my chest and smiles up at me. “Doesn’t that sound like something he’d do?”
“It really does. He’s too stubborn to even let death win.”
Chapter 13
Easton
Waking up with Taylor in my arms is like every dream I’ve had over the past decade finally becoming my reality. I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to move a single muscle and risk ruining what we have.
“Are you just pretending to be asleep?” Taylor asks with amusement in her tone.
“No, I'm pretending to not be awake,” I murmur, holding her a little closer.
“Easton!” She bursts out laughing and swats at my chest. “We need to get up!”
“Why, baby? I'm comfy.”
Ever since I called her baby last night, I haven’t been able to stop using the term of endearment. Since she confessed she would’ve chosen me over Jack, I haven’t been able to stop touching her or thinking about what a future with Taylor could be like.
“Because I'm hungry and today is a special day.” She wiggles out of my arms and climbs off the bed. She goes straight to my dresser and begins rifling through my drawers.
I slide a little higher in bed until my back is against the headboard and tuck my hands behind my head.
“Stop staring at me, Easton,” she singsongs as she tugs out a different shirt and slips it over her head.
“That would be impossible. I’ve been staring at you since we met.”
“We met when I was six.” She glances over her shoulder at me and frowns.
“Exactly. For an entire decade, I’ve been staring at you every chance I got.” I grin when she ties her hair into a messy bun on the top of her head. I always loved when she wore it like that. “What makes today special?”
I climb off the bed and go to grab a t-shirt for myself, but Taylor shakes her head and shuts the drawer. I guess I'm not allowed a shirt.
“Everything,” she murmurs as she stands on her tippy toes and presses a soft kiss to my cheek.
