Bad Romeo (47 page)

I scroll down pages and pages, stunned, until finally, I reach the bottom.

Just in case you didn’t get what I was doing, I’ve written “I LOVE YOU” 1,162 times—one for every day I was away. And please don’t think this was some quickie copy and paste declaration. I typed each and every one individually as penance for being too much of a dumbass to make it crystal clear how I felt about you.

I know you think I left because I didn’t love you, but you’re wrong. I’ve always loved you, from the moment I first laid eyes on you. I ranted and railed about love at first sight, because the concept is fucking ridiculous to me. But the very first day I saw you at the auditions for The Grove, it happened, and you ruined me without even saying a word. I saw you there, trying desperately to be something you weren’t just so they’d like you, and I wanted to pull you into my arms and tell you it was going to be okay.

From that moment, I knew you were meant for me. But I was pigheaded enough to refuse to accept it.

I have no idea how or why you were able to love me. I was an asshole, so busy trying to run from my feelings, I didn’t figure out you were my gift; the precious reward I’d somehow earned with all my pain. I’d spent so long believing I got what I deserved when people left me, that I didn’t stop to think I got what I deserved when I met you. I couldn’t comprehend that if I stopped being an enormous insecure jackass for five minutes, that maybe … just maybe … I could keep you.

I want to keep you, Cassie.

That’s why I came back. Because as much as I used to think you were better off without me, you’re not. You need me as much as I need you. We’re both hollow without the other, and it’s taken me a long time to realize that.

Don’t be as stubborn as I was and let the insecurities win. Let
us
win. Because I know you think loving me again is a crapshoot and that your odds are grim, but let me tell you something, I’m a sure thing. I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried.

Am I still terrified of you hurting me? Of course. Probably the same way you’re terrified I’ll hurt you.

But I’m brave enough to know it’s absolutely worth the risk.

Let me help you be brave.

I love you with everything I am, and I swear to God, I’m not going to hurt you again.

Let yourself love me back.

Please.

Ethan.

I sit there and look at the screen for a long time, alternating between laughing and crying.

Somewhere in there, the fire in my bitterness sputters and dies. The sensation is strange, because it’s what kept me going when nothing else would, and without it I feel naked in the worst way. Soft and vulnerable and more fragile than glass.

Yesterday I’d wondered what it would take to grant me my epiphany to change. I guess Ethan baring his soul in an e-mail did the trick.

One of Tristan’s favorite sayings is, “Be the change you want to see.” I guess that’s what Holt’s done. He’s made himself strong enough for both of us.

My hands tremble as I send him a text.

I’ve barely pressed send when there’s a knock at the door.