Page 114 of Pieces of Me

“Holden,” Mom cries out. “I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I don’t…”

I pause with my back turned, my palm flat against the screen door, and I give myself a moment to catch my breath, catch my thoughts. It’s Mia’s quiet cries that have me turning around, facing them all again. I attempt to smile at Mia, silently conveying my thoughts—that this doesn’t change anything between us. And then I look at my mom, see the woman who raised me… wholovesme. “I love you too,” I tell her honestly. “And that won’t ever change, but—”

“Maybe I can talk to—”

“No.”Fuck no. “Right now, you need to give us time. And space.”

Mom releases a breath, along with a new set of tears, and I stand there, watching her, wondering how the fuck it came to this. Finally, I say, my voice even for the first time since I got here, “I asked Jamie to marry me.” Mia gasps while Mom cries some more. “And she said yes.”

“Oh, Holden,” Mom sobs as she steps toward me.

I instinctively take a step back, put my hands up between us. “It’s the happiest day of my life, Ma, and I really wish that you could be a part of it.”

47

Holden

When I get back home and open the front door, the first thing I notice is the bed. It would be hard not to focus on it, considering it’s on its side in the middle of the bedroom. For a second, just one, I think I’ve walked into pool-house-post-Jamie 2.0. But then I notice the bedsheets hanging between the bed frame and the window, and I call out, walking toward it, “Jamie?”

“Babe!”

I squat down beside the bedsheet wall, pushing aside the fabric, and peer inside. Jamie’s sitting on the mattress, only inches in front of the wall, and I ask, “What are you doing?”

“I made a blanket fort! It’s on the list.” When I left only fifteen minutes ago, she was fast asleep, and now… now she’s patting the spot beside her, her childish smile warming my chest. “Join me!”

She’s been ticking items off her Favorite Childhood Memories list almost daily since she got here. Sometimes, I do them with her, but mainly, she seems happy to do them on her own. I duck and enter her fort carefully, hoping not to break it.

“Look,” she says, pointing at the wall in front of her before I’m even situated.

I look where she’s pointing and… it’s as if every memory of her I’ve ever held on to collides with visions of our future, creating a present far more significant than any gift she could ever give me. Black ink swirls along the walls—all smooth lines, rounded curves, and sharp angles…

“The weirdest thing happened,” she says, leaning into my side. “I woke up when you left, and I felt these rings on my fingers, and I remembered…”

I face her, unable to control my grin.

“We’re engaged, Holden.”

“We are…” I laugh out.

“And then I just…” She shrugs, facing the wall again. “I had this need to draw, so I thought… I hope it’s okay I drew on your wall.”

“Ourwall,” I remind her, my gaze dropping to the marker in her hand. God, I missed watching how her hands moved when she drew—fluid, expert,hot.

“Maybe I can do a mural or something in here,” she ponders. “Daisies and dahlias…”

I take her hand in my mine, move it toward the wall, and guide her into doing what speaks to my heart. She starts drawing, the tiny bones in her hands shifting the muscles there, and with every movement, every stroke, I feel the weight of the past twenty-four hours lift from my shoulders until the only thoughts in my head are the ones of the girl beside me. She starts with the stem first and then the leaves of a dahlia. For minutes, she works on a single leaf, perfecting it, so focused on her task while I focus on her. “Do you think your mom would’ve liked me?” I ask.

She falters a moment before moving to another leaf. “She would’ve loved you.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because you’re twenty-three years old and sitting in a blanket fort with me right now.” She drops her hand and turns to me. “And you’re not doing itjustbecause you love me. Or because you want to make me happy. You’re doing it because you know what these little childish acts mean to me, and not only do you support me, but youencourageme to take back what’sowedto me… toYounger Me.” Her voice cracks, and she looks away, returns to drawing. “She would recognize that in you, Holden, and she would appreciate it.”

I sit back and settle in, trying to fight back a prideful smile. Minutes pass before she speaks. “Did you know about the barn?”

“What about the barn?”

“I went looking for you last night, and I saw the light on in there,” she says, finishing another leaf before facing me. “So I went in, and your dad was there.”

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