AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I felt it. I just didn't know what it meant then.
"Thank you," I say to Mom as I wipe the tears off my face.
"For what?" she raises her eyebrows.
"For always saying the things I need to hear," I smile at her.
She sniffs, wipes her eyes. "I'm so proud of you. And I'm sorry if I ever made you feel bad about the choices you've made. Turns out, you know yourself better than I thought you did."
I do know myself.
And I can see it now.
The dream was never Matt.
It was always Kyle.
—
Mom and I pull up to the hospital. The sun is shining as the snow melts beneath its glaring rays. Kyle's standing out front wearing a grey beanie, dressed in yesterday's funeral clothes, waiting for us. He smiles when he sees me.
I hop out of the car, grateful to be in jeans as the cold breeze brushes by. I grab a bag with a change of clothes for him in the backseat, then run to him as fast as I can, avoiding puddles of melted snow. His arms open as I race into them, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
"Hi," I say to him.
"Hi," he chuckles.
I'm nervous as I reach up, touch his face. "I love you, Kyle."
"I know," he smiles down at me, his hands resting on my hips. "I love you, too."
"No," I close my eyes, take a deep breath. "I love you, Kyle. I've always loved you."
His face softens as he peers down at me. "I've always loved you, too."
"Come on, lovebirds," Mom rolls her eyes, "Randy texted saying she's here. Let's go meet that baby."
Kyle's arm stays around my waist as we walk inside, into the warm building, to meet Matt's daughter.
When I see her, wrapped up in a white blanket with yellow ducks on it, I smile down at her. Audra hands the sleeping baby to me. She has Matt's nose, his lips, the color of his golden-brown hair.
"Hi Ava." My heart swells in my chest.
Kyle's arms snake around me as we both peer down at her.
Ava Diane Thompson.
The arrival of hope when we desperately needed it.
Chapter 57
I wake to the sound of a camera shutter clicking. My eyes slowly flutter open as I stretch my arms above my head, my palms running over the cool, crinkled sheets beneath my cheek and stomach and legs. The sunlight slices in through slanted blinds, flashes across my face and back and arms.
I reach out a hand, try to feel for Kyle, but he's not there.
I flip over, see him standing at the edge of the bed, his new camera in hand. He clicks again.
"No," I groan. "My hair's a mess."
