Page 86 of Just Between Us

“Um—” I clear my throat, my voice sounding like I swallowed gravel. “Yeah, I’m good.”

This isn’t going as planned. My hands are shaking and I know I have to pull myself together. Pressing my palms flat against my thighs, I take several jagged breaths and forcibly meet her eyes.

“When I realized it was your birthday, the only thing I knew to give you was my truth. And I’m scared shitless.”

Cassie doesn’t flinch or even look away. That steadiness, calm in the middle of my storm, gives me the final push I need. I reach for the journal and hold it out to her.

“Happy belated birthday.”

Cassie takes the package from my hands, her fingers brushing mine as she does. The touch is brief, but it’s enough to ground me. To remind me why I’m doing this. For her. For us. For myself.

She looks down at the brown paper, turning it over in her hands. “Liam, you’re scaring me.”

“Just open it,” I manage, my voice still rough. “Please.”

With careful fingers, Cassie peels away the tape, unfolding it like she’s scared of what she’ll find.That makes two of us, angel.The paper falls to the ground and she’s left holding the new leather journal.

She looks up, her eyes already swimming. “What is this?”

“Read it,” I rush out. If I don’t get this out now, I never will.

She flips to the first page, and I see the exact moment she realizes what she’s holding. I’ve spent the last several days selecting which poems would tell my story best. The first one was written a week after Julie’s funeral. It’s raw, barely even a poem. Just words on paper.

Her eyes track down the page, line after line. Watching her read my soul feels more intimate than if she were watching me undress. Tonight I am on full display.

“Liam.” Her voice is barely a breath. “Did you write this?”

I jerk my head in a nod. “Keep going.”

She’s quiet for a moment, then I hear the soft rustle of pages. I close my eyes, trying like hell to breathe and not think about what she’s reading. Poems about her are scattered throughout. When I selected the ones I’d include in this new journal, I wanted to show her that when she entered my life, something inside of me was fundamentally altered. More pages turn, and I chance a glance at her, at the way her hair falls like a curtain across one shoulder.

Finally, she lifts her head, golden eyes searching mine with terrifying patience.

“Who are these about?”

And there it is. The question I knew was coming, that I’m still not sure I’m ready to answer.

Gripping the arms of the chair, my heart beats like a jackhammer in my chest.I can do this.“I can do this.” I don’t realize I’ve said the words out loud until Cassie puts a hand on mine.

“Hey, hey, hey. I’m here. I promise you can do this.”

After a long pause, I answer her. “Some of them are about you.”

She waits in silence, knowing full well there’s more.

I force myself to keep going, to push the words out even if they feel like shards of broken glass passing through my throat. “And some…” I have to suck in a lungful of air before continuing. “Some are about someone I lost.”

Cassie closes the journal and sets it on her lap, resting her hand on top of it, protective, like she knows how much it cost me to give it to her.

“What was her name?” she asks, a cautious note in her voice.

And just like that, I’m thrown back in time. Glass and metal is everywhere, strewn across the pavement. Squeezing my eyes shut, I open my mouth and offer those two syllables to Cassie.

“Julie.”

There. Her name is out there, undeniable now. My eyes lift, slowly connecting with Cassie’s as the name falls from my lips into the space between us. Two syllables that usually die in my throat. I said her name alone in my living room a few days ago, practicing like a kid learning a new word. But saying her name for the first time in two years, to someone who matters is different.

She’s watching me with the most profound empathy, a look that says, I see you. All of you. Even the parts you think are dead.