Page 68 of Always Be My Pumpkin

Jamie edges around Scott but he keeps his distance as he presses his hands to the side of his head and groans. ‘I’m sorry, Gracie, but you have to understand, I was crazy about you.’ He leans forward but Scott stretches out his arm, shakes his head as a warning, and Jamie straightens again.

‘I could have had any girl in the school, you know.’ His face pinches. ‘But you wouldn’t look at anyone else when he was around. And he’s a loser. He’s not good enough for you.’ He blows out a harsh breath. ‘But you just couldn’t let him go.’ His voice goes flat. ‘You still can’t. Can you?’

‘That’s enough.’ Scott lays a warning hand on Jamie’s arm. ‘Go home. Now.’

Jamie grabs the box from the ground, then he turns back around and his eyes sear into mine. ‘You know he doesn’t love you, Gracie.’ The words tear through my heart like a blade. ‘He would have come back for you if he did.’

I don’t even see Jamie leave. I stare at the ground, and I feel like I’m staring into a deep, black hole and the darkness feels almost welcome. Then Scott’s arm is at my back, and I hear Sarah’s voice, ‘C’mon, honey, let’s get you home.’

32

I wake the next morning, groggy and disorientated, and I stretch my arm above my head and scramble for my phone. It’s always on my locker or beside me on my pillow when I wake. But it’s not there, and I can’t see it on the floor when I lean over the side of my bed. I shrug off my quilt, rub the sleep from my eyes, and then I stare down and realise I’m wearing Flynn’s old shirt, the one Sarah flung at me as we left Hazel Cottage.

I bury my nose in the crook of my arm and my senses fill with his warm earthy smell, and I feel his breath on my face, his skin on my skin, his soft, easy smile, and the way he looked at me that night when he told me he’d waited ten years . . . like he loved me, really loved me. And all the memories from last night flood my mind. Flynn in the Corner Bar, then standing in the cottage doorway, the hurt in his eyes when I told him he was holding us back, and the pain in his voice when he said those last words, wait for the love you deserve, Gracie . . . that’s all I ask.

Oh God, what have I done? My head keeps telling me to let go, to listen to the words I heard him say about Natalie, about telling her the truth, and how he won’t risk losing her again. But my heart is lost to those beautiful blue eyes, and the feeling that if I walk this earth for another thousand years, I could never love anyone the way I love Flynn, and he could never love anyone the way he loves me.

I curl my arms around my chest and sink down on my bed, and I feel something chafe against my thigh. I look down and see the worn yellow envelope – the same one I fell asleep holding last night. I thought about opening it, but I felt so bruised and so broken and so utterly exhausted. I knew as soon as I saw the faded blue letters spelling out my name that this was Flynn’s goodbye, the one I hoped he would write all those years ago.

And part of me wanted to open it and read and re-read deep into the early hours, to make up for all those nights when I thought it was still unwritten. But I had already spent every last ounce of strength trying to let him go for the last time, and I didn’t feel ready to deal with the first time he wrote me goodbye.

I breathe out slow and slide the envelope from beneath my bare thigh. It feels warm and soft between my fingers, the tattered edges torn open at one side. I pull out a single faded sheet, with that familiar blue handwriting front and back, and the date etched across the top right corner, 21 September, the same day Sarah asked Flynn to take me to the ball, the same day he laughed, and the same day I found out he’d be leaving.

Dear Gracie,

I’m sorry about this morning, about what happened with Sarah. I guess she’s told you by now. I searched for you everywhere, and I understand if you’re mad at me, but I need to explain.

Maybe it’s meant to be this way. You know I find it easier to write than to say stuff out loud. I want to be brave but I’m not sure how you feel and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I’m going to write it all down in a letter (no surprise there) and leave it in our usual place, and when you read this, you can take all the time you need to decide, and hopefully, come and find me. I’ll be waiting.

I feel such an idiot, but I promise I wasn’t laughing at what Sarah said, and the last person in the world I would ever laugh at is you. This may sound crazy, but when Sarah suggested I take you to the ball, I laughed because it felt like the biggest kick in the guts.

I know it was her idea, not yours, and maybe you wouldn’t want me to ask you. But I want to. So bad. That’s the reason I laughed, because it I couldn’t believe how fucked up my timing is. What a joke. Because my parents announced this morning that we’re moving back to Cricket Falls, and all I can think about is how I can’t bear to leave you, and how I wish I’d told you sooner how I feel.

I’ve wanted to for ages. I came close yesterday by the lake. You looked so pretty, and I wanted more than anything to kiss you. I hope that doesn’t freak you out. We’ve been friends for so long, and I don’t know if you’ve ever thought of me like that, but lately I’ve been starting to feel that maybe, just maybe, you might. But you seemed so sad, and I didn’t want to risk making things worse in case I’d got it all wrong.

If my parents have their way, I’ll be gone in a week. But I don’t want to leave you. You’re my best friend in the world, and if that’s all we can be, I want you to know I’ll be okay with that, and I’ll still be your friend. Always. But I need to tell you that I’ve fallen in love with you. I think I’ve been in love with you since the first day you smiled and said hello. And if you want me to stay, I’ll find a way. Please, Gracie, ask me to stay.

Yours always, Flynn, xxx

I stare at the page in my hands, and I remember the day I called to his door like it was yesterday. Flynn’s parents owned a huge mock-Georgian, about a half mile down the road from Mam’s house, and I walked all the way in the rain, clutching the silver Parker I’d bought as a leaving gift. I was hurt and confused by his silence, but there was no way I could let him go without saying goodbye, without asking him to keep in touch.

That’s all I said after I hugged him. I handed him the box, wrapped in pale green paper with tiny white daisies, and tied with a thin yellow ribbon, and said, Goodbye, Flynn. Write to me sometime. Like he was some guy I passed on the school corridors, maybe shared a few friendly words with after school, and who I thought it might be nice to keep in touch with, in case I needed somewhere to stay if I ever visited New York State.

And I felt so proud of myself for forgiving him, for being strong enough to keep our promise, even though things did change after all, even though he left and broke my heart. But I was wrong, I was so very wrong. Flynn was the strong one. He was the one brave enough to give me his heart. Or at least try to. And I was the one who broke his.

I climb out of bed, run to the bathroom, and brush my teeth while I pee. Then I pull on jeans and a hoodie, grab my runners from the floor, and race barefoot down the stairs. I see my rain jacket bunched in a heap by the door, and I get a flash of Sarah leaning into the hallway, saying, Try to get some sleep, honey, and then, Don’t forget to charge your phone, before she pulled the door closed. Shit.

I bend down and pull my phone from my pocket, and of course, it’s still dead. And I have absolutely no idea what time it is. All I know is I need to find Flynn as soon as possible. I need to tell him that I never got his letter. I pull on my runners and dash down the hall to the kitchen, and I see my charger on the counter, by the kettle, where I left it.

I plug my phone in, grab my keys and jacket from the hall, and race out the door and down the street. I make it as far as the junction when I barge into a buttoned black peacoat that smells of tobacco and spice and betrayal, and I jolt back like I’ve been given an electric shock.

‘You!’ My heart thuds in my chest. ‘You bastard.’

Jamie tugs at the collar of his coat as the colour drains from his face. ‘He would have left anyway.’ His tone is ice-cold. ‘You know he would, Gracie. He would have left, even if you had asked him to stay.’

I gulp as his words confirm what I already knew. ‘You read my letter.’ I glare up at him. ‘You stole Flynn’s letter, and then you read what he wrote to me.’

I flinch from the hand he reaches out. ‘He would have stayed,’ I say fiercely, and my eyes prick with tears I refuse to shed in front of Jamie. ‘And if he couldn’t, I would have waited. And you knew that.’