He’d taken my face in both his hands, desperate to hold on to me.
To us.
Every touch, every look, every sentiment felt like the first time. And when he’d whispered those three words against my lips, words that I’d been holding on to since before, I’d inhaled the I and the love and the you right into my lungs, and let them become the reason for my new existence.
“After all this time, why is it so important now?” Zeke’s question has me coming back to the present.
To reality.
He’s sitting on the edge of my bed in the RV while I sit at the table, staring down at all the puzzle pieces. After Holden had asked if I’d ever finished it, I’d practically run to my RV, drove to the diner, and stormed right into the kitchen as if I owned the place. I found Zeke where one could typically find him: behind the grill with a spatula in his hand. “I need that last thing.”
Zeke didn’t bat an eyelid at my request. Instead, he simply led me to his office and removed the ugly-ass painting hanging on the wall to reveal the hidden safe.
I hate that stupid safe.
There are only three material items I possess that mean anything to me, and until I met Holden, there was only one. When I left, I’d given Zeke two of them. One was to be stored, and one was to be given to Holden. The last item, I couldn’t quite let go of. It’s spent every day of the past five years always with me. In my hand. In my pocket. Somewhere I could always get to it.
“Here you go,” he’d said, handing me the jigsaw puzzle box. “It’s exactly as you left it.”
That interaction took place no more than a few minutes ago, and now… now his question hangs between us: Why is it so important now?
I flick a few puzzle pieces around with my index finger and try to keep my voice even. “No reason.”
“Bullshit, Jamie,” he scoffs. “This morning, when you left, you said you were going to Esme’s. Did something happen while you were there?”
I love Zeke. In so many ways, for so many reasons, and this is one of them. He has a way of pushing for my truths without pushing me over the edge.
After a sharp inhale, I look up at him, right into his eyes. I’ve come and gone more times in the past five years than I can count. And not once has he judged me or asked me to stay or demanded to know what the fuck it is I’ve been doing with my life. “Holden was there.”
Wide-eyed, his voice doubles in volume when he asks, “At the house?”
I nod.
He runs a hand over his beard as he dips his head, sighs. “What was he doing there?”
“I mean… the house is half his now, so…”
His head snaps up. “You mean she left you and him—”
My nod cuts him off.
“You must’ve left that part out.” He watches me a moment, scrutinizing. “That’s a little odd. He hasn’t been around since—”
“I know,” I cut in.
“Did they keep in contact while—”
“Not that I know of.”
“And why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrug. Surely, he should know why I wouldn’t bring up Holden’s name—especially to him.
“Jamie,” he says through a chuckle, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “I have nothing against the guy.”
I almost roll my eyes. Almost. “He punched you, Zeke.”
“He was an angry kid.” Zeke shrugs, his body deflating slightly. “Hell, if I was put in his position, I would’ve punched something too.”
I give him a toothy, completely disingenuous grin. “Thanks.”
Zeke returns my sarcastic response with one of his own. “You’re welcome.” He laughs to himself before adding, “I liked Holden. I probably liked him even more after the punch. It just showed how much he cared about you.”
I stay quiet, having nothing to say.
“You want to know why I liked him?” he edges.
There’s no need for a response—he’s not waiting for one.
“I liked him because he pushed you to see what everyone else saw in you. I liked the confidence he brought out in you, the way he took what was important to you and made it important to him. And I really like the way he told you—no, showed you—that you were worthy of love.”
I liked all those things about him too. In fact, I loved them.
He stands, smacking his head on the bottom edge of the overhead cabinet. This RV is fine for me, but it’s not really suitable for men of his stature. I try to contain my snicker while he rubs at his sore spot. “I like him a helluva lot more than that dickhead Dean.”
“Stop,” I warn.
He rolls his eyes. And he sure as hell doesn’t stop as requested. “That Dean fucker used you, cheated on you, treated you like shit, and made you feel less-than. But hey…” His shoulders lift with a shrug. “If you can forgive him, maybe Holden will forgive you.”
“It’s not the same,” I’m too quick to answer.
“No?” He shoves his hands deep in his pockets and raises a single eyebrow. “Then my question remains… why now is this puzzle so important to you?”
I pause a beat, contemplating how much he needs to know. “He asked if I’d ever completed it,” I mumble, my entire body deflating. It feels pathetic to say the words out loud—as if Holden has the power to control so much of me with that one interaction.
“And…?”
“And what?”
“Have you?”
I crane my neck to look up at The Man Who Saved Us. “No.”
Zeke contemplates this a moment. “Hmm.”
“Hmm?” I repeat, annoyance mixed with confusion filling my insides. “What does hmm mean?”
His smile is slow. Knowing. “Go do your puzzle,” he says, ruffling my hair as he moves past me. “Make sure you take breaks. Eat. Sleep.” He opens the door, bringing sunlight into the small space. “Text me if you need anything.”
I mock-salute him. “Yes, sir.”
For the next three days, I live and breathe and drown in puzzle pieces. I inspect, sort, place. Over and over. Again and again. I temper my frustrations and bask in any minor victories just to stay sane. I eat when Zeke forces me to, sleep when I can no longer keep my eyes open. I don’t sleep long—a couple of hours at most. And when I wake, I go right back to it.
Twenty-three years I’ve existed in this fucked-up world, and I’ve never, ever, been so determined.
I spend minutes, maybe even hours, doing nothing but scanning the unused pile, watching it lessen at glacial speed—another tiny victory.
I’ve never been high in my life, but that’s what it feels like when I get to the last dozen pieces. The rush of adrenaline is intoxicating—as if I’m about to open up the gates of enlightenment, and behind those golden gates is nothing but pure tranquility. Then, finally, I get down to five pieces. To four. To three. To two…
And that paradise, that ecstasy I was climbing toward dies in my chest, takes my breath hostage. My vision blurs. My mind goes numb. My body aches with fatigue. Everything inside me weakens, and I feel like I’m sitting out on Dean’s balcony again, and I’ve forgotten what I’m fighting for. “No,” I whisper, staring at the incomplete image. Panic kicks at my ribs, right over my heart, kick-starting my pulse again. “No, no, no.”