I nod slowly, my heart swelling at his words. “Do you want to see it?”

His smile is instant. “Only if you want to show me.”

We dry off quickly, dress, and move hand in hand toward my bag where I pull out the piece of paper. It’s way too worn, but too filled with memories to replace. I sit on the bed, waiting for him to do the same before I slowly unfold it.

He takes it from me, treating it just as carefully. I watch his eyes move from side to side, getting lower and lower down the list. He takes his time, his breaths shallow, his eyes narrowing at some that may seem confusing. “Ice cream?” he asks skeptically. “How is anyone afraid of ice cream?”

I type out the reason, feeling his breaths on my shoulder as he reads what I’ve written, and when I’m done, he stares right ahead, his mind lost, his anger brewing. “It’s okay,” I whisper.

Shaking his head, he slowly turns to me. “I think it’s just… you’ve never really spoken to me about it so it’s a little overwhelming….”

“I know,” I mouth.

He clears his throat. “I wouldn’t have cared,” he says. Then quickly adds, “I mean, I would’ve cared about what happened to you, but you have to know that it wouldn’t have changed the way I feel about you.”

I bite my thumb gently, not knowing how to respond. I’ve thought about it a lot in the time we spent apart, mainly when I was cooped up in the “Personal Development” center back in North Carolina. It was a psychiatric hospital filled with patients suffering from severe depression. Some, like me then, had tried to find a way out, and some, like me now, were fighting the battle one day at a time. Cordy asks for me, “What’s that thing Chloe told you? Those words that are on the magnet?”

“Choose to be happy, fire truck the rest?”

I nod. “That’s why I didn’t tell you,” I type. “Because while you chose happiness, I chose peace.”

“You chose peace,” he repeats, his voice barely a whisper. He looks down at the list again, “So you’ve marked off all but one?”

I nod again.

He reads the last item aloud, “Go back to the house of nightmares and face my demons.”

I don’t react when he lifts his gaze to mine, so he goes back to the list, his fingers skimming the lines used to cross out each item. Then he moves to the dates marked next to each one. His throat bobs when he swallows, his finger paused over the fourth line. Be intimate again. He taps on the date, December 23rd, and exhales loudly, realization setting in. “You and me,” he says.

I don’t know if it’s question or statement so I don’t offer a response.

After a while, he breaks the silence. “So you were never with Aaron…?”

I wait for him to look at me before shaking my head.

“But you had feelings for him, right?”

I inhale deeply, knowing that lying to spare his feelings would only make things worse. Besides, I’ve bared all my truths, why stop now? “I loved him.”

He sucks in a breath, his gaze shifting away from me. “So why didn’t you ever…”

I tap on his arm, making him face me so I can see his reaction when I tell him, “I loved him, but I didn’t love him in a way that could justify sharing something that important with him. I saved that for you, Josh.”

He chews his lip, nodding slowly. “So you loved him the way I love Nat…” Again, neither a statement nor a question. “You worry about me cheating on you, Becs?” he asks, his eyes searching mine, while mine question his. “Why isn’t that on your list?”

I push down the sob forming in my throat, just like I push back the tears pricking behind my eyes. “Because my fear isn’t that you’ll cheat on me.”

“Then what is it?”

I sit still, my thumbs paused over my phone as I let my thoughts consume me, let them own me and control me, until the words form and I allow them to fill what little space is left between us. “My biggest fear is that you’ll wake up one day, tired and miserable because you’ve spent yet another night consoling me, protecting me from my nightmares. You’ll look at me and realize that I’m not the perfect girl you made up in your head. I’m not even close. I’m broken. Shattered.”

His breaths are harsh by the time I find the courage to look up at him. He seems lost, distant. He rubs his eyes—eyes worn and tired and miserable, just like I’ve imagined when I’ve pictured him in the way I just explained. He releases a breath and places The List carefully on the bed before turning his entire body to face me. He takes both my hands in his and says, “I get it, Becs. I didn’t show you how I felt, how much you meant to me. But I’m here now, and I’m not letting you go until I give you everything I am.” Each word is clear, concise, spoken with clarity and purpose. “And if it’s still not enough, if you still won’t believe me, then I’ll keep trying. Over and over. Until you realize that you could have come to me shattered, broken, in an infinite of pieces, and I would’ve made you whole. I would have loved you. Every damaged piece of you. In all ways and for always.”

Tears escape from my eyes, wetting my cheeks. They fall onto our hands, the same time I fall into him. “I love you,” I mouth.

He quirks an eyebrow. “Olive juice?”

26

—Joshua—

The shower running wakes me the next morning. Becca’s not in my arms, not beside me, but her bags are still here so I know she hasn’t left. Through the curtains, I can see the sun’s already up. I reach for my phone and curse when I see the time. It’s almost noon, which means Becca’s leaving in half an hour. She’s going to visit Chaz for a couple of days before going back to St. Louis. The team has a day full of stupid interviews before we head off to… I don’t even know where. The only thing I know is that I’m not ready to say goodbye, and so without thinking, I take a page from Tommy’s book, get out of bed and rush to hide all her bags and clothes in the closet. I put her laptop and phone in the safe, set the code, and quickly get back into bed and pretend like nothing happened. I keep my back to the bathroom and my eyes closed when I hear the shower switch off. A moment later, the door opens.

Her footsteps sound around me, moving from one spot to another. I feel her next to the bed, her hand on my arm, slowly shaking. I don’t budge. Okay, maybe I smile. And maybe she sees it because she playfully slaps my face. I open my eyes to see hers narrowed at me. She mouths something—I don’t know what, but I’m pretty sure the word “where” and “fuck” are thrown in there.

“What’s wrong?” I tease.

She throws her hands in the air while her lips move again, but they’re moving way too fast, and even if I cared enough to try to read her lips, it’d be impossible. She’s naked beneath her robe. I know, because when she leans over me to look beneath the blankets behind me, I get a glimpse of her bare breasts and I chuckle. She smacks me on the back of my head when she straightens up, so I do the only thing I can think to do. I pull on the strap around her waist and undo her robe, giving me a perfect view of her naked form. She rolls her eyes, but I can see the amusement in them, and because I’m the luckiest fire trucking man on earth, I know she’ll give in to me in three…