“I did the same thing—thinking about what I’d say to you if I ever got to see you again.” My voice sounds small in comparison to his, but that line between his brows pinches deeper with every word. I wonder if I’m the one hurting him. Like my family, he’s been hurt by my disappearance too. I know that. “None of it sounds right now that you’re here.”
He nods a few times. His hair falls over his forehead like it used to when he played soccer. Like it had that last night we spent together . . .
“God, Jade.” He swallows. His throat bobs as though he’s swallowing an apple whole. “How are you?”
That’s when he finally looks at me. Like, really looks at me. His eyes stay on mine for a moment, then they lower to my neck. Something flashes in his eyes when he studies the bandages wound around it. Something that makes his expression darken.
I don’t want to lie to him. But I really don’t want to tell him the truth. He’s suffered enough with the rest of us.
“Considering everything that happened”—I wring the blanket covering me—“I’m doing good.”
Torrin can’t stop staring at my neck. I think he wants to, but his eyes won’t let him. Maybe I should have thrown on a scarf or something. I know it’s an eyesore—something eyes can’t help but be drawn to.
He forces his eyes to mine. They’re darker than before. “I’m happy you’re back.” He shoves off of the wall and moves closer.
The air grows a little thinner. “I’m happy to see you.”
It’s a play on words because really, I haven’t decided if I’m happy to be back. I should be. It’s what everyone else assumes I feel, but it’s too early to know. I am happy to see him though. That I don’t have to think about.
Torrin doesn’t miss my twist on words. “I know it’s late, and I’m sorry . . . I was going to give you some time before I just showed up, but I was here and I knew you were, and I couldn’t . . .” He looks away, his throat bobbing. “Walk away.”
I feel a brow lift. “You were just in the neighborhood?”
“Yeah, kind of.” Torrin’s shoulders lift. “I was visiting someone else in the hospital.”
“Hopefully they’re in better shape than me,” I say, kind of joking, kind of serious.
“Actually, they’re dying.”
I lift up in bed a little. “God, Torrin, I’m sorry. Rough night for you.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve had lots of rough nights.”
“Used to them?”
“More like equipped to handle them.”
Heaviness thickens around us. I’ve drowned in it so many times, but I don’t want Torrin to experience it. I don’t want him to know what it feels like to have your lungs feel like they’re about to explode from holding your breath right before they turn to stone when you lose the battle.
“So what have you been up to the past ten years?” I try to keep my voice light, but there’s too much heaviness now.
His tongue drills into his cheek as he stares out the big window. This is hard for him. I wish I could make it easier. I wish I could convince him I’m okay and that I will be and that even when I was gone, I was okay.
I’d give anything.
I feel like I’ve already given everything though.
“Looking for you.” He shrugs. “Living. I wasn’t very good at the living part though.”
He’s trying to lighten the mood too. He’s better at it than I am based on the smile I feel wanting to form, but he’s lost his knack for it. I don’t need to ask why.
“Anything else you’ve been up to?” My eyes drop to his hands again. I don’t see a ring, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have someone. That doesn’t mean someone doesn’t have him.
My stomach feels like I’ve dropped fifty floors in one shallow breath.
“I graduated. Kind of.” He’s still staring at the Seattle skyline, but it’s like he isn’t seeing any of it. “Then I went to college, and they took mercy on me and let me graduate too.”
I wonder what he studied. I wonder what kind of job he has. I wonder if he went to senior prom. I wonder about everything.
“You were always a good student.”
A small laugh escapes his lips. “I was a good student. Kind of hard to keep that up when I spent most of my time trying to find you.”
“You looked for me?” I say it like a question, but I already know the answer.
I’d caught a glimpse of him on some national news station when Earl Rae had slipped out and I’d stolen a few minutes of TV time. Torrin was giving an interview to one of those big news anchors, wearing a T-shirt with my picture on it, and talking about how he hadn’t given up on finding me even though it seemed like the rest of the country had. That was two years after my kidnapping.
“Of course I looked for you. Everyone did. Your dad and the department turned this city upside down looking for you. I never stopped looking for you. I’d still be looking for you if they hadn’t found you.” He pops his knuckles and wanders a little closer.
The air thins again.
“I feel weird talking about myself with everything that happened to you. We should be talking about you, not me.”