You were my first. And you were my only. And I am blessed because of that.
My last great moments on earth were with you, just as I would have wanted them to be.
Kissing you for the hundredth time is just as intoxicating as kissing you for the first.
You will always be the only girl I want to dance with.
I can’t believe how big your heart is, and how strong, for being able to carry me in it for so long.
Thank you, for caring so much for my parents and for me.
I’m proud of you, for fighting through what life handed you. It wasn’t easy, and for many it would have been impossible. But you’re a fighter, a beautiful, brilliant, funny, witty, kind and loving fighter. And the world needs you. So thank you for coming back to it.
And it’s okay to keep me in your heart. I talked with that other guy…Nate something or other. And he doesn’t mind. Like, at all. (Okay, so he probably wouldn’t say this, but you get the point.)
I won’t say goodbye. And you shouldn’t either. Because what we had is permanent, and goodbyes would only erase that. So instead, let’s say good beginnings. The best beginnings—first loves. I hear your second one is pretty crazy about you, too. (Yeah, that last part is totally me.)
Yours. Forever.
Josh
And Nate
Chapter 31
Rowe
Maybe I’d already forgiven him. But reading his words, seeing his handwriting, and knowing his touch was on that paper—scribing out every raw emotion coming straight from his heart—had me turned upside down.
What was I giving up? I’d come so far. After two years of nothingness, somehow I’d come to this place, this place where he was, and I’d met him, gotten him to love me, and started to breathe again! I couldn’t go back to life before; I didn’t want to. This place, here on this floor, this hallway, this room and his—this was my home now. And next semester, it would be my home again. And next year, I’d find my home wherever he was, wherever Cass was, wherever my friends were. This was living. And I wanted life. Josh would have wanted it for me.
I called Cass from the airport and left her a message, knowing she was probably already on her flight. She texted back later that night, giving me Ty’s number. And I sent Ty a text, begging him not to let Nate know. He was the only one who could help. I hoped he would have that same sense of obligation Cass had when she helped Nate.
I had two weeks. Nate would be in Arizona right before Christmas for the Pac 12 invitational baseball tournament—an official kick-off for the season. The games were played all over Arizona at various ballparks. But I would drive—I didn’t care how far it was. I would come see him. And when I did, I would give him everything he asked for, I’d give him my heart. I loved that he was selfish for me, but I also loved that he was willing to share my heart with Josh. And as crazy as it sounds, part of me can’t help but feel that somehow Josh sent Nate to me.
There really wasn’t a way to practice putting myself out there. I was just going to have to leap. Just like I did when I stepped out of my parents’ car months ago and hauled my things up to a dorm room a thousand miles away. I’d have to find that courage, and more, for what I wanted to do. But for Nate…for Nate, I think I can do it.
Nate
I’m sure she’s read the letter. Cass told Ty she gave it to her, and Ty’s been reassuring, oddly reassuring. He likes Rowe, though, so I hope he’s not just willing it all to work out. I hope he really truly believes.
I was hoping she’d text by now though. I wanted to let her know I would be in Arizona. Maybe she found out. Maybe she’ll see it somewhere. Maybe she’s here? That’s stupid. But maybe…maybe?
“Come on, Preet. Warm-up time,” Cash says, slapping the top of my helmet while he passes me in the locker room. I shut the locker on the rest of my gear and grab my bag of equipment, heading out through the long hallway to the field. These tournaments are the real deal, and there’s something cool about playing on a spring-training field. I can’t help but imagine being here—for real—sometime down the road.
There’s a decent crowd outside, and the air is cold for Arizona. I guess it’s nighttime, and winter. I just always thought of Arizona as hot and dry. I pull the sleeves snug on my undershirt and pull my mask down while I drop my gear in the bullpen and then start throwing with Cash.
I love playing catch. It sounds stupid, but this is the best part of this game. This simple act—throwing a ball back and forth with someone—it’s so numbing, and wonderful. Of course, all I can think about is Rowe, and how she’s only miles away. I should text her. No pressure, just to let her know I’m in town. Maybe she’ll want to come to a game, bring her dad. I hope he’s not angry that I told her. He seemed to understand when I called to tell him she was coming home. Okay, maybe playing catch sucks—because all it does is give you time to think.