I continue looking up at his face when he gives up waiting for me to do what he said, pulls my hand away from my stomach, and flips it over until my palm is facing up. My eyes fill with tears when he gently presses his thumb and forefinger against the clasp and the band loosens. My hand shakes when he slowly slides the watch dangling from my wrist down over my hand, shoving it into the front pocket of his jeans.
He lets out a shaky breath and a soft groan, his fingers tracing over the tattoo on the inside of my wrist. Even though I pissed off the tattoo artist by asking for it to be done the wrong way, facing me instead of facing out, it’s still obvious what it says even if he’s reading it upside down.
“‘For Eli,’” he whispers quietly, saying the words as his fingers continue running over the cursive lettering.
He finally brings his head up and I have to bite down on my lower lip to stop it from quivering, but nothing can stop the tears from spilling out of my eyes when I see the softness and love in his when he looks at me.
“You tattooed my name on your wrist,” he states.
“Yes.”
He pulls my arm toward him, resting my hand against his chest and flattening my palm over his heart by pressing his hand on top of mine and holding it there.
“Why?” he asks, sliding his thumb back and forth over the top of my hand.
“To remind me,” I whisper.
The corner of his mouth tips up into a half smile and I can see one of his dimples, even through the stubble on his cheeks. I want to reach up and run my hand over his face, trace the tips of my fingers over his lips just to make sure he really is smiling at me and I’m not imagining it.
“I’m gonna need more than that,” he tells me, the other corner of his mouth tipping up to match the first side.
I know it’s way past time for me to tell him about this and I know he deserves to know everything, but I’m so afraid of taking that smile off his face and making him feel guilty again. I just got him back, I just got him out of his room, talking to me and touching me, and I don’t want him to disappear again. I don’t want to do anything to upset him, but I can’t keep this from him any longer.
I sigh and force myself to look away from his face so I don’t have to witness the loss of his smile, staring at his hand still pressing against the top of mine instead. I focus on the feel of his heart beating against my palm instead of the words that come out of my mouth and what they might do to him.
“To remind myself that everything I did was for you. So that every time I had to agree to something I hated, every time I had to say yes to another request that chipped away at another piece of me, I could look down at those words and know I was doing it for a reason. To know none of it mattered as long as you were okay.”
His chest rises and falls with a deep breath under our hands and I still refuse to look up at him.
“When the news hit that we’d been killed, they speculated that I was a traitor and responsible for it. But that theory was squashed not long after it came out. You?” he asks.
“I agreed to go out with Landry,” I admit in the smallest voice possible.
“My sister almost lost her business and Daniel almost lost his job because of some tax fraud bullshit, but that went away within a few days and they were told it was a mistake. You?” he questions.
“I agreed to stay in Charleston and work for my mother,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes closed.
“And when I was first rescued, they tried to pin that shit on me again, but it went away quickly. Too quickly. You?” he asks.
“I agreed to get more serious with Landry and take on more job duties for my mother,” I confess.
Silence fills the room and all I can hear is the ticking of the clock above the fireplace mantle. Eli is quiet for so long that I’m afraid he’s taking this time to fill himself with anger and guilt and I brace myself for him to drop his hand still holding mine next to his heart, walk away, and lock himself back inside his room.
“Shelby, look at me. Please,” he begs gently.
I slowly open my eyes and lift my chin, holding my breath until his free hand comes up and cups my cheek.
“You saved my life, and I ruined yours,” he whispers, repeating the words he said to me at the cemetery.
“Never,” I reply back, leaning forward until I’m pressed against him, trapping our hands against his chest between us. “I would do it all over again in a minute. I would make all those same choices again as long as I knew it was for you and that you’d come back to me.”
He leans his head down and presses his forehead against mine and I continue before he can even think about moving away or believing the words he just said.
“You saved me, too. I gave up and I was lost. You gave me back the music, you gave me back my strength, you gave me back my hope…you put all the pieces back together, and you made me whole again.”
Eli lifts his chin and presses his lips to my forehead, holding them there and sliding his hand out from between us to cup my other cheek.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to really dance again, but you made me want to try. You brought me back to life. I don’t care if we’re a couple of broken pieces and we’re making a huge fucking mess,” I tell him, throwing his words back at him as gently as I can, but firm enough so he knows I’m serious and I truly believe what I’m saying. “I’d rather be a complete mess with you than spend another day shattered all over the floor alone.”
Pulling my head back so I can see his face, I move my hand from his chest and slide both of my arms around his waist.
“Please, don’t leave me. Let me help you. Let me fix this,” I beg.
The smile finally comes back to his face and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me tightly against him. I turn my head to the side and rest my cheek against his heart so I can hear it thumping in my ear.
“You already did,” he finally says quietly, resting his chin on top of my head. “You already did.”
Epilogue
Eli
Six months later…
Flipping the quarter around in my fingers, I lean down and place it on top of the stone, resting my palm over it for a few seconds before moving back to stare down at the headstone.
“I’m not being an asshole anymore, I hope you’re proud of yourself,” I say to the cement marker.
“That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I suggested we come pay our respects,” Shelby informs me, moving around me to set a shiny penny down next to my quarter.
“It’s okay, he’d appreciate it,” I tell her when she gets back to my side and wraps both of her arms around my waist.
I drape my arm around her shoulders and pull her against my side.
“Tell me again what the coins mean,” she requests.