Lost and Found (28 page)

“I’m sorry,” he said, and then took a big breath and braced his hands against his legs, bending over. “Sorry,” he said again.

“For what?” I said, leaning back against the bench to look up at him. “Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to be sorry? I’m pretty sure I’m the jerk in this situation.”

He shook his head and then sat down next to me on the bench outside the apartment building. “Sam explained it to me. How what I said and what I did weren’t right.”

“What?”

Laney’s bangs were falling in her eyes and her tights were ripped and dirty around her cast. She was wearing her pink and orange dress that made her seem generously psychotic. My heart squeezed at the sight of her.  “I’ll take you any way I can get you.”

She blinked at me again. “What did you say?”

“I don’t care about what you look like, or your terrible clothes, or your hair falling in your eyes, or your evil ex-boyfriend. I’ll take you any way I can get you.”

She stared at me a moment and then said, “That’s not enough. I want you to take me at my most broken.”

“Your leg is broken. Your face is cut up. You dress like a clown. I’d say you’re there.”

“Fair enough.”
She scowled and looked down at the sidewalk.

“I didn’t get it before, what you needed. But I will love you, no matter what.
Unconditionally. I can’t stop. I wanted to stop, I was so angry with you, but I can’t.”

“But why?
I’m not even worthy of this.”

“You’re worthy of about fifty of me, but I don’t have a cloning machine, so I’ll just try to show you I mean it.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do next.”

“This is the part where you have to trust me, that I mean it, that I’ll stay.”

She sucked in a breath and looked at me, her eyes wet and shining. “But you left Mia. She was gorgeous, and you left her. And all those girls from the Saturn. Why wouldn’t you leave me?”

“Because you’re
you.
None of the rest of them were you. None of them wanted me for me. They wanted something from me. I want you for you, and you want me for me. Right?”

“Right.”

“Maybe it’s too hard to explain in any way that makes sense. Is it supposed to make sense? Are we supposed to know all the reasons behind it?”

“It’s just that I don’t know if I can trust you. That’s the hard part.”

“But it’s also the best part. For me, anyway. It’s where you really learn that I mean it. I don’t want to fix you. I don’t want to make you better. I don’t care if you change, or if you don’t change. I’ll love you no matter what, as long as you’re still you.”

She looked at me, tears pouring down her cheeks, and she said, “Really?” I nodded. “Okay, I trust you,” she said quickly, quietly.

“You do?”

She said, “I don’t think I have a choice. I just do.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I told you, I trust you.” She gave me a smile and then said, “Come here.”

I kissed him. It was the first time I kissed him. I’d a
lways let him kiss me, but I didn’t want to do that. My face was sticky with tears, my tights had a run in them, my leg was heavy and throbbing with pain and itchiness, and I’d never felt so beautiful or loved. So I kissed him. I put every single feeling I had into it, and soon we were savaging each other’s mouths.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, and he kissed me again, murmu
ring something I didn’t quite hear. “What?” I asked.

“I said, I love you.
I love you.”

“Oh,” I said, and smiled against his mouth. “I love you too. I’ve loved you since I saw you.”

He pulled away then, his forehead wrinkling. “That day. That day I told you I loved you. Why didn’t you say it back?” he asked.

“Because I was scared.
Because it felt wrong. Because I didn’t think you really could love me.”

“Because I wasn’t saying it right.”
He inched closer to me on the bench, and I could smell him now. He was everywhere. “What I meant to say was, ‘Delaney, I love you. I don’t want anything in return, just to be able to love you.’”

My mouth dropped open. I tried to think of loopholes, of how this would go wrong, of how he would find someone prettier, smarter, better. “Oh?” was all that came out.

“You’re
fun.
I miss you when I’m not with you. You’re kind. You’re smart. You’re so, so pretty.” He moved my hair out of my eyes and kissed my temple. “Just let me love you anyway, just the way you are?”

“You don’t want me to pin my hair back or stop wearing tights or get a car or run in the da
ylight?”

“I do. I do want you to do those things, but I’m going to love you whether you do
them or not, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, and then a tear dripped down my nose and into my mouth, and then another, and another, and I was leaking snot and emotions all over my face, stinging my road rash and I said, “I can’t stop,” laughing and wi
ping away tears.

He cradled my face very gently, tipping it up and said, “I can’t stop either,” and kissed the tip of my nose.

I leaned into him then, my head on his shoulder, and I whispered into his ear, “Me either. I can’t stop. Ever.”

I owe a very big thank you and many cookies to Allie Gerlach for the cover and wine and queso and support, Diane Bognar for editing and then editing some more, Rachel for beta reading, my blog friends and non-blog friends for being my cheering section and being so very supportive, and to my husband and children for being understanding, patient, kind and all-around amazing human beings. 

Chris Van Hake
s is a writer and librarian based in Seattle. She loves love. She also likes magical things such as novels, high-fat foods, unicorns and you. You can visit her and say hi at her blog, readingandchickens.com, or on twitter @booksnchickens.