Page 81 of Hidden & Held

“I know I messed up, but I hope I have shown you how much I care. To say that you have transformed every aspect of my life would be an understatement. I wake up on new sheets because they’re your favorite. My clothes smell different so I can feel closer to you throughout the day. I hate being bad at something, and yet I still try my damnedest at renovations. It took me longer than it should, but now my mom talks my ear off about you and keeps begging to meet you. She has talked more to me about my future in the last six months than she has in years. Not to mention my brother …”

“Really? Your mom wants to meet me?”

The way she says it—the slight lift at the end, the involuntary brightness—I would give all the pretentious watches in the world to have that expression on her face forever.

“She does.” Unable to stop myself, I add, “She has for a while.”

Phoenix looks down at her cast, trying to hide her wistful expression.

“Sugar, I may have been careless about the oil. But I promise you, nobody has ever taken up more brain space than you. I almost feel like you should be owing me rent.” I nudge her knee softly.

Phoenix reaches for her crutches, getting up to leave. I stand up, moving back around the peninsula, giving her the space she needs at the moment.

“Thank you. This conversation wasn’t easy for either of us. But it was the closure I needed.”

“I am glad you have what you need.” And I mean it. She needed to feel this door shut. “But I want to be clear about something.” I lean forward against the counter, crossing my arms and staring straight into her beautiful eyes. “This conversation was not closure for me. You can call it whatever you need to. You can walk out that door and decide this was the last chapter.”

Her face flinches, only for a second, before she schools her features.

“I will still be here tomorrow. And the day after that.” I lower my voice. “I know what we had, Phoenix. I know how I felt, and I know how you felt, even when you were working hard not to. So take your closure, Sugar. Take all the time you need.”

I push off the counter and pick up my glass of water.

“I will be here, just on the other side of the drywall when you change your mind.”

I follow her to the door. She sighs, crutching toward the door. “Jackson, I don’t think that’s a good idea. What we had … it can’t go back to what it was. It’s too broken.”

“You’re right about one thing.” Her eyes follow me as I reach into the lower cabinet in the entryway. “We can’t go back to the way things were.” Carefully, I pull out the vase I bought and filled for her all those months ago. The one that broke. I spent hours piecing it back together, trying to get it perfect. Gold catches the afternoon light along the repaired cracks, shimmering.

Phoenix goes still as I push it closer to her, resting on the top of the cabinet.

“I looked up the technique after it broke. Kintsugi.”

She reaches out gently, tracing the gold seams.

“The idea is that you don’t hide the damage. You make it part of the story. It’s more beautiful that way. Stronger too.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks before I meet her eyes.

“I don’t want what we had before, Phoenix.” Her eyes widen as I continue on. “Because before, I was still keeping pieces of myself from you.”

I glance down at the vase, gently touching the lines I spent hours working on. “It’ll never be what it was. But maybe that’s the point.”

23

PHOENIX

It’s been three weeks since my conversation with Jackson, and I am in full swing at my new job. The Foundation office occupies a converted craftsman on the edge of downtown. The atmosphere is unassuming and comfortable. Perfect for our residents. Large windows let in more light than any law office I’ve ever worked in, and someone always seems to be bringing in some home-baked goods.

My walking boot thumps softly against the creaking hardwood floor as I escort Mrs. Alvarez toward the elevator.

“You really think they’ll approve it?” she asks for the third time.

I smile. “I do. We have all the documentation they requested, and if they need anything else, I’ll handle it.”

Her shoulders visibly relax, and for a second, she stares at me with relief.

“You know”—her eyes begin to shine slightly—“you’re the first person who’s explained any of this in a way I understood.”