Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Once the funeral comes to a close, I take off, forgetting all about Hope’s offer to get drunk. I know I’ll end up that way by the end of the night, but as the funeral finished, and I was forced to face reality with the undeniable excruciating grief closing in on me again, I needed to be alone.
I find myself back at Zoey’s house, pushing through the door of what’s now one of the loneliest places I’ve ever been in. Mom stayed with Zoey’s parents, preparing for her wake this afternoon, but I just don’t know if I have the strength to stand around a bunch of people who didn’t really know her, telling me how sorry they are for my loss.
Instead, I make my way up to her room, needing to feel that closeness, to smell her, to feel her around me, and the second I walk into her room, I do just that. It’s as though she’s right here, her arms wrapping around me, only this time, there’s a gaping hole right where my heart used to be, leaving nothing but a hollow emptiness.
My gaze shifts around her room.
I’ve spent so many hours in here growing up. Chilling out on her bed while teaching her how to play video games, pretending the way my leg brushed against hers was nothing more than an innocent accident, pushing her up against the wall in her closet and really kissing her like I’d been desperate to do for years.
Dropping down on her bed, I take her pillow and hold it to my chest, breathing her in, when I notice an envelope peeking out from within the pillowcase. My brows furrow, and I curl my fingers around the edge of the paper, pulling it out to find Zoey’s neat cursive writing across the front.
My name stares back at me, and my heart starts to race.
This is my letter, the one she spent the last few days of her life agonizing over. I sat with her as she wrote her letters for her family and Hope, but when she turned to a new page and scrawled my name at the top, she sent me away.
Over the past week, I’ve wondered if I would ever see this or if she even finished it. But now that I have, I don’t know what to do with it. It’s like one final piece of her, one final gift, and after I open it and read the words she’s left for me, that will be it.
But these words . . . God. They’re going to crush me, no matter how sweet they might be.
Flipping the envelope over, I slip my finger beneath the flap and break through the seal before taking the letter out. My hands shake as I open the papers, seven full pages of blue pen, smudged with the stains of her fallen tears.
I let out a breath, not prepared in the slightest for what I’m about to read, but my gaze drops to the paper, unable to wait a second longer.
Dear Noah,
It’s almost comical how pathetic that sounds when you think of the insane journey we’ve been through together. “Dear Noah,” barely sounds like enough.
Let me try it again!
Dear my bestest friend, my soul mate, my twin flame.
My first and only love, my universe, my partner in crime. My first and last kiss, my one great heartbreak. The man who taught me how to love. The man who taught me it was okay to fly. My lover. My fiercest protector. My overwhelming happiness. My forever valentine.
My heart. My world. My everything.
My husband.
There. That sounds better don’t you think? It sounds right, and yet somehow still not enough. I don’t think I’ll ever find the right words to adequately describe just how much you mean to me.
I’ve agonized over what I was going to write to you. I’ve thought about it for days, having to start over and over again because nothing feels like it could possibly be enough. How could any words make this okay? How could I possibly take any of your pain away?
I’ve tried to put myself in your position and think about how I would feel if it had been you taken from this world, and I couldn’t bear the thought of it. The pain alone would have eaten me alive, and I know without a doubt that I wouldn’t have been strong enough to pull through. But you’re different, Noah. You’ve always been strong enough for both of us. You’ve carried me through these past six months, and I’m so grateful. I need you to know that, and I need you to understand, without you standing by my side, holding my hand every step of the way, I wouldn’t have made it this far. You’ve lent me your strength and given me the courage to hold on.