Page 132 of Carry On
I fell apart, my head falling to his shoulder as I broke down sobbing all over again. I wanted it to be enough.
Dean stayed for hours to be whatever I didn’t know I needed. Eventually, I asked him to leave. I needed space.
At least, I thought I did.
In his absence, I stared at my living room floor—just stared at the spot where Nash died.
I didn’t sleep.
I couldn’t eat.
I just kept staring throughout the night as the deafening silence around me was mind-numbingly suffocating. Nash’s absence weighed heavily on me. It was as if the world shifted completely, permanently set askew.
All I had left were memories and a room full of perfectly organized things. His things. He’d taken the time to organize his room. Clothes were neatly folded, ready to be packed away. His guitar lay on the bed alongside his phone and a letter addressed to Peter.
The understanding was unbearable.
He’d planned to take his life.
Everything was so carefully attended to.
He’d packed away all the little parts of him to make it easier on me.
As I trailed my fingers over the curve of his old guitar, it hit me.
I love you, Lincoln…
It was all a goodbye that I’d had no idea I was participating in.
And did he know? Did he know how I felt? That I loved him?
I grabbed his phone and touched the screen, watching the home screen light up. The only thing on the screen was a notification.
Two new voicemails…
A sob escaped me, and my knees buckled. I sank to the ground, clinging to the phone.
He didn’t know.
I should’ve said the words back.
I should’ve told him that Ilove him.
My fingers brushed against tape on the back of the phone, and I turned it over. A scrap of paper was crudely taped over the case with a note in his handwriting.
Watch the first video.
I frowned as I ran my thumb over the scrawled note. What the hell did that mean? I rubbed at my cheek with my sleeve as I opened up the photo app on his phone and clicked on the first video.
It was just him with his guitar and the phone propped up.
“Hey, baby…” Nash began. Just the sound of his voice had another wave of emotion crashing through me. I paused the video as another sob tore through me.
“Fuck,” I let out, struggling to catch my breath.
I could do this.
I could…
