For All You Have Left

Chapter Thirty The Message

“Jorgen.”

Jorgen’s phone beeps again, and I send it flying toward him.

“Message,” I say.

He stops rubbing my feet to catch the phone with both hands. I watch him focus on the screen and read over the words. Then, I notice his eyebrows lift a little before he looks back up at me.

“What?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he says.

I shoot him a disbelieving look.

“It’s just Kevin. He says he remembers where he’s seen you.”

“Oh,” I say. “Where?”

He doesn’t answer me at first. His eyes are back on the phone’s screen.

“What?” he asks, sounding distracted.

I just stare at him.

“Where has he seen me?” I ask again.

“Oh. He didn’t say.”

His eyes fall from the screen and onto me before he sets the phone down onto the side table and presses his fingers into my feet a little bit more.

“Moberly’s not too far from here,” he says. “He probably had a crush on you when he was younger or something stupid like that, knowing Kevin. And I’m sure there’s a long, dramatic, drawn-out story that goes with it too.”

He looks back up at me, then scoots closer to me on the couch, puts his arm around my shoulders and kisses me softly.

“You want something to drink?” he asks, after our kiss breaks.

“Uh, sure,” I say.

He pushes up from the couch and makes his way into the kitchen. My eyes travel to the television, but my mind travels back to the message. I glance up into the kitchen. Jorgen is searching in the refrigerator. I look at the phone, then back at the television and then back at Jorgen. He’s still looking inside the fridge. I think about it for a second and almost hesitate before curiosity claims me and I lunge toward his phone and then quickly press the message icon. I feel a little like a stalker right about now. I mean, we share pretty much everything now — even our food and cars sometimes — so I trust him, but there’s something else in that message that he isn’t telling me.

Instantly, the screen lights up, and the message comes into plain view. I quickly force my eyes over the last sentence of the text: I need to talk to you about her. ASAP.

“Found it,” I hear Jorgen say from the kitchen.

I quickly set the phone back down onto the table and slide back to my side of the couch.

“It was all the way in the back,” he says.

I look up at him and catch him holding out the glass pitcher.

“Good,” I say, forcing a smile.

I watch him turn away from me again and start pouring our drinks. As Soon As Possible? My heart is racing. My thoughts are in overdrive, and all of a sudden, Jorgen is standing over me.

“Your tea, sweetheart.” He holds out a glass.

Sweetheart. He has never called me sweetheart before. The word kind of sticks to me in a way that feels strangely comforting, almost familiar. It almost kind of warms me somehow.

“Thank you,” I say.

I watch him sit down and take a swig from his glass. He’s in a tee shirt with Truman Hospital stretched across his chest in white letters. It’s a fitted shirt; though, I’m not so sure it would be fitted on just anyone. And it’s humid today, so his hair is extra curly, and his cheeks are a little sunburned, just like mine. We spent the rest of Sunday outside riding his bike and stopping at parks. God, I never thought I’d ever say that again. Though, I guess there are a lot of things I never thought I would say again, much less do. There were a lot of things, until this curly-haired, sunburned former football-player-slash-farm-boy came into my life and stole my heart without me looking.

“You know I love you, right?” I ask him.

I watch his gaze slowly travel back toward me before he rests his eyes in mine and then nods his head.

“You know I love you too, right?” he asks.

I lower my eyes before I meet his gentle stare again.

“Mm hmm,” I say.

His smile widens. “What are you doing all the way over there?” he asks, waving me toward him. “Get your cute butt over here.”

I shoot him a playful smirk. Then, I collide gently into his side and feel his muscular arm wrap tightly around me.

I feel safe here in his arms, and it makes my heart happy because the truth is that it’s been a long time since I’ve felt safe in the arms of someone I could call mine.