looked awful on him. The fit was all wrong, the fabric too thick. I never hated a shirt more.
The storm carries on as I hold up the orange shirt, still not seeing the appeal. I remember how he laughed about how much I hated it. I’m surprised to even see it here. Just as I’m thinking he never wore it, or at least I don’t remember him ever wearing it, I see the tags.
It’s brand new. He had it for years and never wore it.
“You’re not wearing that. It’s awful.”
“You’re a little small to be so bossy,” he joked, smiling down at me.
“Seriously, I’ll dye my hair if you put that thing on.”
The moment takes over, his hands on me, how he backed me up against the wall.
I don’t realize I’m crying, hot wet lines running down my face, until my phone goes off with a text.
Laying the shirt on my lap but not letting it go, I answer the phone with my other hand and see I’ve missed three texts from Kamden.
You okay?
Hey babe I just need you to message me, okay?
Please, Ella. I’m a PITA but I love you and anything will do.
As I’m reading them, another comes through. Don’t be mad, I messaged Damon.
Shifting so my ass is on the floor, I let the shirt go and respond. I’m here. Just had a moment. It’s not so ladylike as I wipe under my nose and consider using the damn shirt as a tissue. A small laugh leaves me at the thought, but then without warning, I sob. Crying into the shirt with fresh hot tears.
“Oh my fucking God what is wrong with me,” I murmur in between wiping at my face with the shirt. Feel it and let it go.
Even as I tell myself to let go of the emotions, I don’t want to let go of the shirt. I don’t know that I’m ready. I don’t think I’m ready.
Focusing on my breathing, I quickly text, Kam I don’t think I’m ready to throw anything away.
That’s okay, that’s totally fine.
My fingers fly across the keys. I mean the houses too. I don’t want anyone to touch them.
Even as I send them, I know it’s unreasonable. I know it is. I just want to stay still for a moment. I’m just not ready for it to change.
I text him again adding, Please, but I can’t explain why.
I spend too long staring down at the rumpled trash bag and wrinkled-up shirt, with my hands trembling. It’s not until Kam tells me no one will touch anything and that he’ll make sure of it that I’m able to consider pulling myself together.
Shame creeps up my spine at how easy it was for me to fall apart.
I couldn’t clear out a dresser of clothes.
“Ella.” Zander’s voice carries through from the cracked bedroom door. It creaks open; he doesn’t wait for me to answer.
I’m sure I’m a sight to behold. There’s no doubt my mascara has run, my cheeks are tearstained and I’m sure my nose is red. Taking in a steadying breath, I slowly rise to my feet, not bothering to hide anything at all.
“Ella,” he repeats, saying my name with a gentleness, a comfort that’s unexpected. I suck in a deep breath, meant to make it all right, but instead my expression crumples and my throat goes tight. He’s quick to wrap his arms around me, bringing me back down to the ground, nestled in his lap as I cling to his shirt. I fist his cotton T-shirt, burying my head in his chest.
One deep breath after the other as he shushes me, rubbing soothing circles on my back and rocking me slightly. Back and forth as the waves of chaotic grieving dim.
With my eyes closed, I breathe Zander in, his unique scent. It’s masculine but clean. Like fresh open water.
“I thought I was doing good,” I whisper, opening my eyes to see the light shining off the silver frame. My gaze drops until Zander grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing my eyes up to his.
The world pauses. All my thoughts, all the sorrow just as much as the battering of the rain when he traps me with his emerald and amber eyes. He doesn’t see through me, he sees all of me. Every last piece and I can’t breathe.
“You did very well and I’m proud of you.” He’s the one to close his eyes and when his lips meet mine, I close mine too. His kiss