Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 114368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
I grabbed a bottle of wine from the liquor cabinet. “I would say my parents would have a problem with me drinking this, but seeing how one’s dead and the other’s in a coma, I doubt I’ll get grounded.”
Starlet’s eyes widened, shocked by my words, but then she narrowed her stare. “Does dark humor help you?”
“It does, and there will probably be a lot of it these next coming days.”
“Good to know. Very good to know.”
I glanced around my dining room, noticing how brighter it appeared than the days before. I couldn’t exactly put my finger on why it seemed that way, though.
“Did…did you change the light bulbs in here?” I asked her.
She nodded. “I ordered some while you were at the hospital a few hours after lunch. I read online that sometimes brighter lights can help with retinitis pigmentosa. I changed them in all the rooms.” She paused and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked you if that was okay. I noticed a few bulbs burned out and figured I should change them. If you hate it, I could switch them back. It’s not a problem at all.”
I stood stock-still, not moving an inch as I stared at her. She was remarkable in every possible way. From her messy hair, her stunning eyes, her kind smile, and her heart. Her heart… I didn’t know why she’d come into my world, but I knew she was my miracle. The thing that made my hard days more bearable. The person who reminded me how to breathe again after years of holding my breath underwater. She was the next act of my play after the interlude that I’d seemed to be stuck in for years. I couldn’t believe that I was lucky enough to know her. To feel her. To fall hopelessly in love with her.
How did a bastard like me end up with someone like her?
“I love you,” I blurted out. It wasn’t how I’d planned to tell her. It wasn’t attached to some big romantic gesture or said with a softened tone of admiration. I blurted it out. Almost aggressively, even. It was as if my body physically couldn’t hold the words in any longer. As if my body needed to expel that truth as soon as possible.
“I love you,” I repeated, this time slower, softer. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Starlet’s doe eyes widened as she tilted her head up to meet my stare. “You love me?”
“I love you.” How could I not? She was the warm summer nights to my cold winter days. She was my person.
I never thought I’d have a person.
I thought it would always only be me.
My stomach tensed up as she stared at me. I cleared my throat, feeling a bit foolish for blurting it out. A tinge of self-doubt hit me as I realized she might not say it back. Why would she, honestly? I was a mess. I knew about my scars and often wondered how another could ever love them. I swallowed hard, reminding myself that I didn’t say the words to hear them back. I said the words because they were true. I loved her. I loved her in a way that I didn’t know my heart was able to love, and I thought she deserved to know that. A person like her deserved to know they were loved. It would be a shame if the most loving individuals never had a chance to hear those words spoken their way.
I brushed the palm of my hand against the side of my neck. “Listen, you don’t—”
“I love you, too.” She interjected, making my heart stop. Or was it beating faster? I couldn’t tell.
“You love me?”
“I love you.”
I kissed her because that was all I could think to do at that moment. She kissed me back because she loved me, too. Lately, my emotions never knew where to land. It was as if I had felt a million different things in such a small period, unable to get my footing, but as she kissed me, I felt as if I were finally back on solid ground.
That night when we went to bed, I was able to hug the woman who loved me as much as I loved her. As she lay in my arms, she turned to me and said, “Have you thought about telling your dad everything you told me last night? Maybe telling him how you need him here? I’ve read some articles about how sometimes those in a coma can hear you. I think he might need to hear how you really feel.”
I took her advice into consideration. At that point, I was willing to try anything to see him open his eyes again.
CHAPTER 30
Milo
The following morning, I showed up at the hospital to sit with Dad. I hadn’t been sleeping the best. I’d been running into nightmares more often than not, leaving my mind exhausted by the time I’d wake. Starlet mentioned speaking to Dad from the heart, and that messed with my mind because my heart was pretty fucked up as of late. Starlet made my heartbeats a little tamer at times, but that didn’t stop the fact that I was still struggling day in and day out. I wished love was enough to erase the hard parts of life. Instead, it worked as a calming balm. It didn’t fix the cracks in my heart, but it soothed it every now and again.