The Moment of Letting Go - J. A. Redmerski Page 0,133

won’t be the cause of that.”

“Norway will be my last jump,” he repeats, growing more desperate, more hurt. Then he steps up to me again, cupping my cheeks within his large hands. “I’ll leave you alone and I’ll wait for you to come to me. I’ll let it be your choice to come back to me, but if you do, if you decide a year from now that you want to be in my life, you’ll see that I’m still here and I was yours the whole time we were apart.”

Tears tumble down my cheeks, my lips quiver, and my hands tremble down at my sides.

He presses his warm lips against my forehead.

“I don’t know what else to say other than I’ll wait for you.”

I want to fall into his arms, but I don’t.

I want to throw my beliefs and my code out the window and embrace consequence. I want to forget about what my conscience is telling me and listen only to my heart.

We ride to the airport mostly in silence. We don’t talk about Landon or Norway or our very different lives or what could’ve been. Seems we laid that to rest before we left his house. On the outside, at least. On the inside, I know it’s an entirely different feeling. My heart hurts. My stomach is twisted in knots. Tears burn the backs of my eyes constantly. And the more I think about leaving him, about never seeing him again and going back to my stressful, unfulfilling life in San Diego, the more I want to suck it up, strap a pack to my back, and jump into the sky just to be with him.

This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do: letting him go. But there’s something much darker looming in my heart and it grows tremendously the closer we get to the airport.

A part of me knows deep down that he’s going to die in Norway. It’s just a feeling. Maybe I’m just being fearful and paranoid, but I can’t shake the terrible feeling.

He’s going to die …

“Sienna?”

I snap back into the moment.

He’s standing in front of me with my elbows in his hands, that beautiful smile and those warm hazel eyes looking in at me, breaking my heart into a thousand pieces.

“I’m glad I met you,” he says and his lips move against my forehead.

“Me too.” It’s all I can say—I feel like if I try to say too much at one time I’ll burst into tears.

“Remember what you promised me back on that beach,” he says, smiling.

I nod slowly and smile back at him.

“My photography,” I say. “I promise.”

I fall into his arms and he squeezes me tight. Then he pulls away and kisses me lightly on the lips.

As I walk away from him through the small crowds of people in the terminal, I want to look back not only because I feel his eyes on me, but because I’m not ready to let go. Because I’ll never be ready to let go. And as I slip around the corner and out of his sight, in an instant I feel his gaze disappear. Tears stream down my cheeks all the way onto the plane. And when it takes off, I look out the window, not with fear but with a broken heart.

THIRTY-TWO

Sienna

Your father is really upset, Sienna,” my mom tells me as she comes into the living room with an envelope in her hand three days later.

She sits in her recliner and places the envelope, tattered at the top indicating it’s already been opened, down on the end table between us. With my legs drawn up on the sofa, I glance over at her casually, my eyes skirting the envelope.

“I know he is, but he’ll get over it.”

“You know how your father is,” she says, “and I can’t say that I disagree with him. You should’ve come to us first.”

“I did,” I tell her. “A few times actually, Mom, and you both always shoot me down when I try to help.”

“Because our bills are our responsibility,” she says. “How do you think it makes us feel, Sienna? We worked so hard to give you a good life, saved up every extra penny we earned to put you through college. We didn’t spend our lives working so hard just so you can spend your savings to pay our bills—we don’t want you to struggle like we did.”

I glance over.

“I appreciate everything you and Dad did for me, but if you want