Page 94 of Falling Into Forever
I nod, trying to gauge her reaction. “It’s a lot of people.”
Saylor tries to swallow so hard she coughs, and I run a soothing hand over her back.
“I seem to remember things like this happening a lot when we were growing up. One neighbor talks to another and another until there’s a full-on barbecue no one planned for.”
“Mm-hmm,” she says, biting her bottom lip and holding her pendant in a viselike grip. “But it’s never…it’s never happened at my house before.”
“Saylor, those people out there? They all love you. So many people in this town love you, they’ve simply been waiting for an invitation back into your life. Maybe now they’re done waiting, but they all want what’s best for you, sweetheart.”
“I—I know. I just…I’ve never had a party here before.”
Pulling her closer, I rest my forehead against hers. “I hate that you’ve missed out on so much.”
“You don’t understand.” Her voice trembles. The soul-crushing vulnerability makes my skin burn like it’s being peeled away from my body.
“Then tell me, show me what I don’t know,” I plead.
“It didn’t happen overnight. And I know that people think I’m a freak.”
“Stop.”
“Please, let me finish.”
My gaze searches hers, one eye then the other, and I finally nod.
“People don’t always understand a pain they can’t see. And when I got out of the hospital, I felt too empty to put on a happy face anymore, so I stayed home. I wrote, and I read, and I did everything I could to keep myself out of bed. In my heart, I knew if I allowed myself to stay in bed like I wanted to, I’d die there.”
My heart bucks like a rodeo bull, and I fight a mental battle to keep my chest from heaving when it doesn’t feel like I can get enough air.
“But, sometimes, it happened anyway. I’d have a depressive episode, or I’d forget to take my meds, and then it would get worse. My entire body felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer, but outwardly, I looked fine. I’d be like that for days or weeks at a time. Grady and Ainsley would stop by, force me to go outside, put my feet in the grass, eat, and shower. And I’d crawl back into bed as soon as they left.”
The noise of her necklace on its chain fills the brief silence.
“It’s not that I didn’t want to shower, or eat, or—” She pinches her forehead between her thumb and fingers, but I keep her close. Is she shutting me out? Or is she strengthening her resolve?
“Those were the times when I wished—I just wished I wasn’t here.” My hands tighten involuntarily around her hips at the confession. The invisible stranglehold on my lungs intensifies. “I wished I wasn’t such a burden on them. I wished I could feel normal.”
It takes multiple attempts before I can make my mouth form words, and when I do, each one is a painful whisper. “You are normal, Saylor, and my wish is that you would have trusted me enough to tell me the truth. I wish I had been here to put your face in the sunshine, hold you, or help the neighbors understand the depths depression can drag you. Saylor…”
I wait until she lifts her head. “I’ve loved you since I was fifteen years old. Love isn’t only about happy times. Love means you hold someone in the dark and scary times. It means you trudge through that darkness together until you both emerge into the light. Do you want to, Saylor? Do you want to take your life back?”
A tear slides down her cheek when she nods. She wipes at it angrily, like crying makes her weak. Doesn’t she understand it shows more strength to be vulnerable than it does to hide?
“It’s not that easy,” she confesses. “I don’t know how, Dante, and my attacks are not something I can control, and without control, I’m untethered. Everything is changing so fast. I’m scared I won’t be able to control any part of my life now. It’s like you blew into my heart and knocked down everything that kept me safe. You tore down all my walls in a matter of days, and now emotions I’ve intentionally kept at bay hit me like a tsunami. I can’t block my emotions with you in my life, I never could. I can’t even tell you what my triggers are anymore. And I worry…”
I don’t press her. She’ll continue when she’s ready.
She blinks. Swallows. Takes a deep breath. And then her shoulders fall. “I should be strong enough to do this on my own, Dante. What does it say about me that I need you to feel whole—to feel anything? That I need another person to be my strength?”
“Do you trust me, sweetheart?”
She’s nodding before I finish the question.
“Then trust me to keep you safe. We’ll deal with your triggers together as they happen. Okay? And all that matters is that you do allow yourself to feel and to live. You are so strong, Sayls. Needing another person doesn’t make you weak. It means you understand that perfection is a board game, not a way of life. You’re strong because you acknowledge your weaknesses, and you’re brave enough to borrow strength from someone you trust until you find your own, but that never means you don’t have strength of your own. You do, and I see it every day in everything you do.”
She doesn’t respond, but the doubt on her face speaks volumes.
I tuck a wild strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s called being a team, sweetheart.” I keep my tone soft but firm. “Everyone needs love, and love fits differently for each person, so get the should-be’s out of your head and start worrying about what you need. Tell me what you need, and I’ll do the rest. That makes you strong, and it’ll make us strong too.”
