Page 152 of Now and Then

“You’ve always been my best friend. Always. So that night when everything fell apart, you were the only person I needed. But I never once stopped to think how it affected you. Instead, I let you carry my pain and my secret for years. Years, Hunter.”

“I didn’t mind carrying it,” he says quietly. “I would do anything for you. And yeah, I wanted there to be more between us. But I was afraid to say anything then because I knew it would push you further away.”

“I wish you would’ve told me how you felt.” My tears fall easily now, my heart cracked wide open.

“I loved you.” He caresses my cheek. “Your entire world had just imploded. I could feel you slipping away and I . . . I knew if you let yourself be taken by the storm, you’d be lost forever.”

“So you anchored me.”

He nods. “I guess in a way, I did.”

For a moment neither of us speaks. The kitchen is quiet except for the drip, drip, drip of the faucet and the soft crackle of grilled cheese sandwiches still warming on the stove.

“I think that’s part of the problem,” I say.

His brow furrows. “Being your anchor?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Me needing one.”

I draw a slow breath, staring down at our hands resting together on the table.

“I’ve spent so long trying to make sure nothing ever hurts like that again. Like if I can just do the right things, plan enough, anticipate every possible disaster, I’ll somehow keep the people I love from disappearing.”

His eyes soften.

“But that’s not how life works,” I whisper. “And I think somewhere along the way, I stopped trusting I could survive the storm without grabbing onto you.”

It’s my turn now to catch the tears falling from his eyes.

“I kept telling myself I wasn’t ready to fall in love again, and that was true because I already was in love . . . with you. But admitting that opened me up to too much vulnerability. The idea of losing you was too much to bear. So, instead, I let us live in this gray area. Too scared to let myself have you. Too scared to let you go. Too scared to do anything except smile, nod, and pretend everything was fine. But,” I say, “things weren’t fine. I buried my pain so deep down, hoping maybe if I didn’t mention it or no one knew, it would go away.”

He cups my face, his hands warm and reassuring. “That kind of pain never goes away.”

“Yeah, it’s taken me a while to realize that.”

“Sut . . .”

“That’s why I want to start therapy,” I say. “Not because you did anything wrong. You didn’t. You’ve been everything I needed for years. But I don’t want you carrying all the pieces of me that I should be learning to carry myself.”

For a moment, he just looks at me. Really looks.

“I never felt like I was carrying you,” he says quietly. “I wanted you to know you weren’t alone. I wanted you to know that I was standing right next to you.”

“I’ve always known that.” I lean forward until our foreheads touch. I close my eyes, letting my heart slow.

“I know this is probably scary,” he whispers. “But I’m really proud of you.”

“I’m proud of me too.”

Hunter’s smile spreads slowly, like maybe the words mean just as much to him as they do to me. “That might be my favorite thing you’ve ever said.”

I laugh softly, wiping the last tears from my cheeks.

He reaches over and steals the crispest sandwich from the griddle. With one bite, half of it is gone.

“Excuse me, sir!”

“Snooze, you lose.” He mumbles.