Page 105 of Pieces of Me

And Jamie had just left me.

“I need to leave, Holden,” Jamie cries, and I answer with the truth I’d known since I walked through the door.

“Iknow.” I wrap my arms around her neck, hold her face to my chest, and even though I have no idea what the fuck is happening, Mia’s words play loudly in my head:please be gentle with her, Holden.

I wipe away my liquid heartache while I stroke her hair, and then pull back so I can see into her eyes. Holding her face in my hands, I say, “I’m not letting you go now.” I sniff back the pain of my words. “You’re far too emotional, and I don’t want you driving into a ditch again. But I promise you, tomorrow you can go, and I won’t stop you. Okay?”

Jamie nods, a single sob escaping her.

“You drew that compass over my heart for a reason, Jamie. So, whenever you’re ready, you come back to me, okay?”

42

Jamie

The Brothers Grimm version ofSnow Whiteis far different from the Disney version. For example, in the Disney version, the queen asks the Huntsman to kill Snow White and return with her heart. In the original, she asked for Snow White’s lungs and liver, to which she then boils and devours.

Dark, right?

The Grimm’s tale doesn’t have a charming prince who kisses Snow White, thus saving her life. It does, however, have a creepy prince who thinks that Snow White’s body is beautiful, and he offers to take her dead body away in the glass coffin. One of his servants drops the coffin, dislodging the poison apple from her throat, bringing her back to life. What the prince planned on doing with herdeadbody… is… hmm?

The significant difference I get stuck on between the two stories is the number of tries it takes the queen to make Snow White disappear. In the Grimm’s version, it takes three.

Disney only had one attempt, and the evil queen succeeded.

I never really pictured my life as a Disney princess, but here I am…

The space beside me in the bed is empty, and Holden has gone. It took a while for my cries to settle and my tears to dry, and for hours after, he lay next to me, silently holding me until hethoughtI was asleep.

Obviously, I wasn’t.

How could I be?

He took the RV. I know because I could recognize the sound of it starting up from a mile away. I don’t know what he plans to do with it… maybe push it off a cliff?

It’s fine either way. I can fly back to Gina and stay with her. Maybe load up on enough therapy to last the next five years.

For the following hour, I toss and turn, and Holden doesn’t return. Curious, I finally get out of bed and walk outside. As I suspected, his and Mia’s cars are here, and the RV is gone. Barefoot, I walk back into the house and grab my phone, noting his car keys on the hook. I’d brought them in with me when I’d driven here from Mia’s because, unlike him, I don’t trust anyone enough to leave them in the car. I don’t bother slipping on my shoes as I take the keys and then make my way outside.

It’s so dark out, so still.

I check the time. It’s almost midnight. Wherever Holden is, he couldn’t have gone far. This ishis home. His pride. I get in the truck, adjust the seats and mirrors, and bring the engine to life. I’d only driven it once before, and as intimidatinglybigas it is, I used to drive around in a house on wheels, so…

I don’t have to go far to get to my first stop, and when I see the lights on in the barn, I pull into the driveway and park. I can’t see my RV, but that doesn’t mean that Holden isn’t here.

I step out, the cool concrete hitting my bare feet as I walk toward the barn, then push the door open a crack. “Lighting Crashes” by Live plays through the air, and confused, I push the door open wider, forcing it tocreakunder the movement.

With a broom in his hand, Big H turns at the sound, his eyes widening when he sees me. “Ah, shit,” he grunts. “What are you doing here? It was supposed to be a surprise!”

I step inside, my heart stopping at the thought of another unwanted surprise. I look around, noting the changes since I was in here only a few hours ago. The floor is clean, and boxes are piled high next to the pottery wheel.

“Well, you’re here now,” Big H says, dropping the broom and letting it fall to the floor with athwack. “Look at this,” he says, and he’s grinning, bouncing with excitement. He flicks the switch on the pottery wheel, and it turns. He chuckles, then pats the boxes beside it. “We got you some clay too.”

My lips part, my stomach dipping, swirling.

Big H adds, “Nanny Eastwood helped me pick out all the supplies.” He grabs a clay pot filled with paintbrushes from the shelf. “I know you don’t draw anymore, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested in painting.” He points to a row of tubs on the shelf—paints in different colors. “If you don’t like the colors, we can pick out what works for you.”

I finally find the courage to look up at him, my breaths unsteady. “For…me?”

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