Page 65 of The Time It Takes
I’ll hold onto him for as long as he lets me.
Chapter Thirteen
Present
I'mlayinginmybed and once again I find it impossible to sleep.
I’m still thinking about Oliver and the way it felt to hold him so close to me again. The memory of how it feels to not push him away. When he turned to face me, his gaze had caressed achingly slowly across my face before he left the room.
Being back here is making me question everything. How is it possible that not even ten years is enough time to make my body stop yearning to be next to his?
I wonder if Oliver is having trouble sleeping too. If his thoughts are too loud and haunting. I can’t get the way he looked at me out of my head. It was like he saw me for the first time again and I was seeing him.
My mother and Frank are staying in the RV parked in the driveway. A part of me was glad for the distance, though I can’t help but think she wishes to stay as far away from me as possible.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I roll over and swipe my phone off the nightstand. I find Oliver’s contact. I’m not even sure if he has the same number, but I tap his name anyway and bring it to my ear.
It rings six times before I’m met with open silence. He doesn’t say anything, which means he knows it’s me and he kept my number too. I realize maybe he’s waiting for me to say something.
I take a deep breath and just blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “Six years ago, I was walking in Grand Central, and I saw this bookstore that had a whole bunch of classics. It was beautiful and I told myself that I didn’t need to go in it. I didn’t want to go in because I felt like if I did, I’d be looking for something that wasn’t real. For the first time in my whole life, I thought to myself; they are just words on paper, none of it’s real.” I sigh. “It was horrifying.”
It’s quiet for a moment and then he asks, “So, what did you do?” His voice is raspy, and I wonder if I’ve woken him up.
“I took my ass in there and bought every book I could carry. I practically flew around the bookstore. It’s very hard to get people to give you funny looks in New York, but that day I got plenty. I went full-blown maniac.”
He chuckles softly and it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. “You should have known better. Just because the stories aren’t real, every word is.”
I start to nod but remember he can’t see me. It’s silent between us for so long that I glance down at the phone to make sure he’s still there. I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. I hate this. I hate not knowing how to talk to him under the circumstances I’ve caused.
“Did I wake you?” I ask softly.
He yawns before saying, “No.”
I smirk. “Liar.”
His breathy laugh reaches me through the phone, and I suddenly wish he was lying next to me so I could see him.
“I don’t know why I called you,” I tell him honestly. “Feel free to hang up on me at any moment.”
Not a second later, the phone clicks off and the line goes dead. I’m staring at my screen in disbelief. He hung up on me. I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up my throat.
My phone lights up in my hand again and I see Oliver’s name pop up. I answer on the first ring.
“Ass.”
His laughter has the hairs on my arms rising. I can’t help the cheesy smile that spreads across my face.
Oliver clears his throat. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” I say, fighting back the ache it puts in my gut.
“Why didn’t you come back after Juilliard?” he asks. “What made you stay in New York?”
I let out an uneven breath, debating what I should and shouldn’t say. “The architecture,” I joke before I can stop myself. My therapist calls it a defense mechanism to protect the walls I’ve built.Just breathe, Willow. You owe him this much.
“I’m going to need a better reason.”
“Why?” I breathe.
