“Mr. Ryan, my name is Dr. Kunst.  I am the lead surgeon of the team who took care of Miss Lewis.  Please, sit.”  He gestured to the chairs beside the desk.  Dr. Kunst also wore the tired eyes of the nurse; but in contrast, his were sympathetic and filled with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. 

“I can’t.  Please just tell me.”  I begged.  I was done with formal niceties.  “Is she alive?”

I knew the answer before he spoke; I could feel it in the deepest parts of me.  Maybe if I’d paid attention to my gut earlier, instead of quieting my own thoughts, I’d have known sooner.  I could have prepared myself better.  I could sense it in the way he took a deep breath, the way he extended his arm to my shoulder, the way his head drooped slightly in acknowledgement to my pain.  

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ryan.  Her injuries were too extensive.  We did everything we could.”

I come back to the present when I feel Tatum’s small, warm hand squeezing my bicep.  “It’s okay.  I’m here,” she soothes, and when her soft fingers caress my cheek, I realize I’ve been crying.

“Thank you.  I’m okay.”  I grab her hand from my face and plant a kiss on her palm.  “We were on our way to our monthly dinner at her parent’s house.  The college we went to was about four hours away, and we lived together in an apartment off campus.  We were so…excited.  Her dad had recently had a heart attack, but we weren’t able to make it home to see him due to finals.  Neither of us could wait to get home and share the news we decided to move the wedding sooner.  We had originally planned to get married after we graduated, but Harper was so worried her dad wouldn’t make it until then.

“I was stupid.” My voice cracks on the last word, and I have to clear my throat to continue.  “I was distracted.  It was raining, and she kept kissing me while I drove and I let her.  Fuck, but I should have told her to stop.”

Tatum snuggles up closer to me, sensing my need for comfort.  I pull her closer until her body is flush with my own and let the soft strands of her hair sift through my fingers.

“She was getting hot, so she took off her seatbelt to remove her coat.  I looked over at her, laughing and scolding her to buckle back up.  I didn’t see the car coming right at us.”  I feel, rather than hear, Tatum’s gasp against my body.  “Yeah.  Some drunk fuck crossed the median and hit us head on.  I lost control on impact, and we went rolling down a ravine.  She was alive on the way to the hospital and went into surgery but she…she didn’t make it.”

She was covered with a sheet up to her shoulders, her pale skin ghostly white, deep purple and blue bruises blossomed across her beautiful skin.  It was Harper, my beautiful, beautiful Harper.  And she was dead. 

I catalogued her features, committing her to memory for the last time.  Her dark hair was damp and matted around her swollen face.  Her thick dark lashes rested gently, fanning against her pale cheeks.  I ignored the scratches marring her delicate skin as I gently traced the curve of her nose, the soft pale pink of her once cherry red lips.  I reached down, searching for her hand one last time, and found it hard, limp, unmoving beneath mine. 

My world shattered into a million fucking pieces.     

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, my voice breaking, cracking.  “I love you, Harper.  I’m so sorry.”  I squeezed her hand for the last time, kissed her lips for the last time.  I touched her for the last time.

Tatum’s voice calls me back.  “I’m so sorry.  God, I know those words are stupid, but I don’t know what else to say.  I’m sorry that happened to you and to her.”

“I appreciate those words from you, Sweetheart, but I don’t deserve them.  If it weren’t for me, she’d still be alive.”

She pulls her body off mine before she drops back down straddling my abdomen.  She leans down and takes my face in her hands, pressing her forehead to mine.  Her scent soothes me, apricots and rain.  I close my eyes and take comfort in the way she surrounds me.  Her body wrapped around mine, her smell permeating the air, her hair providing a curtain around our faces.  The feel of her hands pressing into my skin has me meeting her soft gaze.  Her hazel eyes look so sad, and desperate, and determined.

“Jacoby, no.  I can tell just from your voice that you hold onto so much guilt for what happened, but you have to let it go.  It’s not your fault.  You said it yourself, some drunk hit you head on.  You were young and in love, acting silly.  We all make mistakes, but your mistake is not what killed her.  It was the other driver’s actions that led to your wreck.”

“Well, lucky for him he died, so he doesn’t have to live with the guilt.  I do.  At least I can honor her life by carrying around the weight of her death.”

“If she loved you as much as it sounds, she wouldn’t want that for you.  I know I wouldn’t.  She’d want you to move on and live your life.  The best way to honor her is to go on living, Jacoby.  Not carry around your guilt like a burden.”

I appreciate her thinking so highly of me, but the guilt is mine to carry around until I learn not to.  Maybe someday I’ll reach that point, but today is not that day.   I grasp one of her wrists, and pulling the black band back, I press her soft flesh to my mouth in a tender kiss.  Her breathing stalls and gasps before picking up twice as fast.  It’s time to change the subject.

“I understand these.  Maybe not the exact reason you do it, but I relate to the urge.  And it fucking kills me to know you had a pain strong enough the only way to feel was to hurt yourself.”

“I take that to mean it’s my turn?” She asks, shifting restlessly against me.  This time there is trepidation in her tone.  I pull her down beside me and settle us both on our backs.

“I want you to say as much or as little as you need to.  We’ve talked about your mom and your past before, so I think I can understand where you were coming from.  When I first saw the marks, I was surprised, and I acted out of fear.  But I was never angry at you for what you were doing.  I was afraid.  The only thing I care about now is how to help you stop.  I’ll do whatever it takes.  Just tell me what I need to do because I can’t lose you, too.  I can’t.”

Life is messy and unpredictable.  It doesn’t deliver you a neatly wrapped package.  Life hands out lessons that are hard to understand, difficult to endure, and many times downright tragic.  It’s our job to take those lessons and turn them into a gift.  If I’ve learned anything the last several weeks, it’s that there is always a gift.  You just have to be willing to open your eyes and see it.  It wasn’t until Tatum came into my life that I figured out my gift.

Losing Harper was the hardest thing I have ever experienced.  She taught me how to grow and love, how to accept myself and what those around me had to offer.  She showed me a simple side to love and life, and I’ll be forever grateful.

Though, as much as it pains me to say, if I hadn’t lost Harper I wouldn’t have Tatum.

Where Harper was simple and sweet, Tatum is a shooting star of fire and determination.  She’s sassy and sharp, and she keeps me on my toes.  She came barreling into my life in a ball of fire but just as quickly disappeared beyond the horizon.  It wasn’t until she was gone that I realized I’ve been living in the dark.  I wanted the brightness back.

I’m ready to fight with my life to get it.

“I meant what I said at the hotel,” Tatum replies, answering my request.  “I can’t do it anymore.  Not just mentally, like I know it’s bad for me.  I mean, I tried to do it, and for the first time in four years, I was afraid of the pain.  And I was ashamed of what you’d think.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of what I think.  I’ll never think badly of you.  But I want to understand.  Can you explain it to me?”