When I’m finished, I haven’t taken all of them down, but enough that they don’t overtake my room. There’s one photo of my mom in a rocking chair, her belly big because she is pregnant with me, and a photo of Lexi and me sitting on her back porch, posing for the camera. There’s also a sketch of her… one I drew a few days before she died. That one I hold on to to remind me of her, because I may be trying to let go, but forgetting her completely isn’t right. She deserves to be remembered, never forgotten. Despite the fact that I’m choosing life, I don’t have to break my promise to her.

“I’ll remember you forever,” I whisper to the air, wondering if she can hear me. “No matter what. I promise… but I think I have to let go just a little…”

By the time I’m done saying it, I’m crying. Tears pour down my face as I take in the bareness of my room, the past no longer overtaking my future, just a ghost, distant memories, and it hurts, yet there’s this strange freedom in the pain because I’m feeling it, not running away from it.

I’m starting to sob, tears choking me, refusing to stop flowing, when my phone starts ringing. It’s five o’clock in the morning and I wonder who the hell would be calling this early.

Quickly pulling myself together, I wipe my tears away, then lean over to pick up my phone and check the glowing screen. When I see Nova’s name on it, panic slams against me as I worry that something might be wrong. “Hey, is everything okay?” I ask as I quickly answer it, worried she’ll be able to tell I’ve been crying.

“No.” She sounds strange. Not necessarily sad, but like she’s repressing something… numbing her emotions. I hate hearing it in her voice and immediately want to fix it, my problems at the moment shrinking inside me.

“What happened?” I ask. God, please don’t let anything be wrong.

“A lot of stuff really, but I…” Her voice catches, her emotions on the verge of spilling out. “I have to tell you something and I need you not to get mad at me.”

“Okay… what is it?” I ask cautiously. She doesn’t say anything right away and I can hear a lot of commotion in the background. “Where are you?”

“At the airport.” She sounds guilty. “The Seattle airport.”

A bundle of emotions rush through me all at once and I almost hang up on her. Nova’s here. In Seattle. This is bad. Really bad. I’m not prepared for this. And I wanted to prepare myself for the first time I saw her again. Wanted to be completely stable instead of sobbing my heart out because I just took a bunch of photos of my old girlfriend down.

“You’re here. In Seattle. Seriously?” I can’t conceal my shock or the fact that I’m on the edge of crying again, just from reliving the memory of taking down the sketches and photos.

“I know you said you didn’t want me to come here,” she says, sounding upset. “But some stuff happened and I just… I just needed to get away from it all, so I packed up my bags and headed to the first place I could think of.”

“You made the decision to come here tonight?” I ask worriedly, not just because she’s sitting in the airport by herself, upset, but because something made her upset enough that she just took off. “Just up and left. Just like that.”

“Yeah. I just really needed to get away before my head exploded. And it was either go to you or have a meltdown.”

“How did you even get a flight?”

“It was a pain in the ass,” she promises me. “I was on a plane for six hours and normally it’s like a two-hour flight.”

“I bet.” I’m not sure what to say to her because I’m still attempting to process that she’s here. Only miles away. “Are you just sitting at the airport now?”

“Yeah… I’m trying to figure out what to do next,” she says miserably. “I know what I want to do and that’s flag a taxi down and come see you, but I totally get it if you don’t want me to do that.”

I wonder what she’d do if I said I couldn’t see her. Would she just hang around in the city or get on a plane and fly back home? That’s probably the best option, since I’m still not as stable as I wanted to be when I saw her again.

But the idea of her being so near and my not seeing her makes my heart throb. “Don’t take a taxi,” I say, getting to my feet. “I’ll come get you.”

“Are you sure?” she asks. “Because I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

God, she’s killing me. Too nice for her own good.

“Yeah, of course I’m sure.” But I’m not. At all. Then again, I’m not sure I’ll ever be, but I guess I’m going to have to rip off the Band-Aid.

“Thanks,” she says, getting choked up. “And Quinton, I’m really, really sorry for springing myself on you like this.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” I say, opening my dresser drawer and grabbing a shirt. “Now stay put. I’ll be there in about twenty to thirty minutes.” I hang up, get dressed, then go into my father’s room to ask him if I can borrow the car. He’s hesitant at first, until I tell him why. He reluctantly gives me the keys and tells me he’ll take the bus to work. As small as the gesture is, it means a lot to me, and I wholeheartedly thank him.

I have to let the car thaw out for about five minutes and let the frost melt away from the windshield, so I climb in and dial Wilson’s number, cranking up the heat. After about four rings, he picks up, sounding extremely exhausted.

“This better be really important,” he says, and then he yawns. “Because I am not a morning person.”

“Nova’s here,” is all I say, staring up at the gray sky as the sun begins to rise and kiss it with a hint of orange.

It takes him a moment to say anything. “Right now. In Seattle. At your house.”

“She’s at the airport.” I flip on the wipers and watch as they scrape off the rest of the frost. “I’m headed to pick her up right now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me she was coming?” he asks, yawning again.

“Because I didn’t know she was coming.” I turn the wipers off and buckle my seat belt. “She called me a few minutes ago and said she was at the airport… she sounded upset. And I need for you to tell me that I can handle this.”

“Do you think you can handle this?” He uses psychology on me like Greg does all the time.

“I don’t know… maybe…” I put the car into reverse and back out of the driveway. “I had all these pictures up on my wall.… ones of Lexi and my mom. I kept them there because they reminded me of everything I lost… to hold on… I just took them down.”

“When did you do this?” His voice is cautious.

“Like five minutes ago.” I turn the wheel and drive down the road, heading toward the freeway.

“And how do you feel?”

“Weird.” It’s the first word that comes to mind, but it seems fitting. “Wilson, I’m not sure I can do this… see her… I’m not ready…” I stop the car at the stop sign, wishing I could be happier about her being here, but I can’t. “Tell me what to do. Should I just tell her to go home?”

He contemplates what I said. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I just said I wasn’t ready… and the idea of seeing her is freaking me out.” I lower my head onto the steering wheel and stare at the floor. “And you told me not to get into a relationship until I was ready.”

“Just because she’s here, doesn’t mean you’re in a relationship,” he tells me. “And besides, it might be good for you to help her out with whatever she’s going through, since, from what I understand, she’s really helped you in the past.”

As soon as he says it, I know he’s right. I’m being really selfish at the moment, thinking about how her being here is going to affect me when really I should be thinking about what happened that she needed to get on a plane and come see me. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Of course I’m right,” he says arrogantly. “I’m always right.”

Right or not, it doesn’t make it any easier to drive to the airport. But I make it there. And even though it probably takes me a little longer than most people to actually get to baggage claim, mainly because my feet seem to weigh a fuckload, I do get there.

It takes me a minute to spot her because it’s the holidays and the place is pretty packed. But when I do, I swear to fucking God something changes inside me at that moment. Something good, I think, although I’m not 100 percent sure yet.

She’s got her hair pulled up and a backpack by her feet as she leans against the wall with her eyes shut, the crowd moving around her. But the longer I stare at her, the more the crowd doesn’t exist. I don’t even care how fucking cheesy that sounds. It’s just she and I and the past sort of washes over me. I start remembering everything. How she made me feel. How she refused to give up on me. How powerful it was just to be near her. She refused to give up on me. This girl saved me and I love her for it. I know that now. My heart knows it. My head knows it. Even my legs do, because they’re about to give out on me and I have to reach out and grasp the wall before I collapse. I can barely breathe as I work to stand up, the feelings inside me potent and overwhelming. I don’t know if I can handle it—feeling this way for her while I’m sober.

The fear only intensifies when she opens her eyes and her gaze sweeps the room. A heartbeat later she spots me. She doesn’t move. React. Neither do I. I want to, but I can’t. Luckily she manages to unglue herself from where she’s standing. She scoops up her backpack from the floor, swings it onto her shoulder, and heads for me. With each step she takes, her mouth turns up more, and by the time she reaches me, she’s almost smiling.

“Hey,” she says, and then without any warning she throws her arms around me, embracing me in hug that’s so tight, it feels like she’s trying to survive through it. The heat of her body courses and rushes through me. Regardless of how terrified I am to touch her, I find myself wrapping my arms around her and embracing her so tightly my arms start to tremble. I fight the immensely intense urge to fall to the ground, but it’s hard to stay up as adrenaline and emotions pulsate through me. I feel like I’m tipping sideways, falling off the tightrope. But she’s holding on to me so I don’t fall completely and I end up suspended in the air. I didn’t even know feeling this way was possible and it’s scary as shit.