Let Her Go

by Briana Pacheco

Every page shows me when exactly Owen started falling in love with me.

  I read up until it’s prom night and it’s only because I have tears running down my cheeks that I have to stop. I close the book and set it down on the table as I wipe my eyes.

  “When did you do this? You made a book for me?”

  He stands and reaches for me, sliding his hands up my arms until he cups my face. “It was your Christmas present. I never got to give it to you.”

  Jesus Christ. Who is this man?

  He made a book for me. About us.

  I blink back more tears and hiccup as I try to find words to explain exactly how I feel. Nothing feels right and I hate that because this means so much and I can’t express it with words. It’s frustrating. I’ve felt this way with books that were so amazing, trying to explain my love for it was futile. I could never do it justice.

  “H-how does it end?” It’s a thick book. I only made it halfway. After prom there weren’t many moments we shared. We came to college and I pushed him away, forcing him into a relationship with a girl that didn’t deserve him.

  “No spoilers, Zoë. You have to read it from cover to cover.”

  I grip his t-shirt and sink into his warm embrace. “That is one of the greatest gifts I have ever received.”

  He tightens his hold around me, dropping his head down to my ear, and he says, “Loving you is mine.”

  What a bittersweet moment, to be here with the perfect book boyfriend I’ll ever find and I need to let him go.

  I look up at him with words stuck in my throat and tears pooling in my eyes.

  Cupping my face in his bandaged left hand, Owen runs this thumb down my cheek lovingly. “Stay,” he says, his voice so full of emotion I can feel it penetrate my heart.

  I shake my head softly. I can’t.

  “Let me love you.”

  I blink, the tears slowly cascading down my cheeks as I deliver the final blow. “Let me go. I need to go.” Just for ten weeks. Live your life and don’t worry about me.

  His eyes, now the color of dull emerald, turn wet and I have to look away when a stray tear rolls down his cheek, followed by another. “It’s physically impossible to let you go. You’re embedded in my bones. You’re as important to me as the air I breathe.” He forces me to look up, to witness the pain I’m inflicting on him. “You’re a part of me. The only part that matters.” As tears run down his handsome face, he leans forward and kisses my forehead twice, and then my nose, my cheekbones, and finally, he places the softest kiss on my lips. “I love you.”

  I wish I could hack into your brain and erase all the data involving me, I think to myself, hating every word.

  Owen made my childhood bearable. He befriended the outgoing girl with bright green eyes and he continued to love her even when her thoughts turned as dark as her soul.

  He loved her. Me.

  And I love him.

  I push up on my tiptoes and touch his lips with mine.

  “I love you too,” I whisper, not wanting this tender moment to end. I shouldn’t say these words because I want him to let me go. He needs to let me go. Both of us need this distance. When I look at him I see his father. I can’t live like this anymore. I want to see Owen. Just Owen.

  I’ve been holding him back too.

  And I’m finally setting him free.

  It’s a funny thing, feeling trapped. Because while I was caged within these dirty secrets, I was also keeping Owen locked away with me. We kept each other company in some of the worst and happiest moments of our lives.

  We were best friends. We became more.

  But being with him triggered something inside me and I need to fix that. I can’t keep drowning in the past.

  The corners of Owen’s mouth twitch and then he’s smiling and crying all at the same time. “To infinity and beyond.” He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, weaving his fingers into my hair and slowly massages my scalp.

  I can see that he wants to say something more but doesn’t.

  This is a temporary goodbye. Neither of us are ready for it.

  As I stare at Owen, I see the little boy who chased me around the playground, and the boy who kissed my scraped knee when I fell down and wished he could take away the pain. I see the boy who told me I feel too much and he wanted to feel it all with me. I see the preteen who brought me a bag full of my favorite chocolates and a stack of paperbacks when I got my first period. I see the boy who sat down with me at the creek and tried to get me to smile whenever I was sad.

  I see my best friend who held my hand when I was lying in a hospital bed, praying for me to come back because life without me wasn’t a life he wanted to live.

  I see the boy who fell in love with a girl who was hiding the darkest of secrets.

  I see Owen; the person who had my heart from the very beginning.

  I see us. We are one. Zowen.

  When I stare at Owen, I see my future.

  I could never let him go either.

  I’m coming back. I take his face into my hands and I press my mouth against his, pouring everything I have into it. “I’m coming back, Owen. I promise,” I murmur.

  My phone rings in my back pocket and because we’re in a library and I respect this place like it’s the Holy Grail, I pull away from Owen and fumble for my phone, hitting the little green phone button. “What?” I answer, whispering like I might get in trouble even though no one is in this room.

  “Come back home, sweets. I miss you already,” Echo states, her voice getting a bit higher. “Wait…are you still at the library? You’ve been gone for hours!”

  “This is her favorite place, Echo,” Owen calls out, smirking at me.

  “Shhhhh!” I hush him and go back to whispering. “We’re leaving now. I’ll be there in less than fifteen min–”

  Owen takes the phone from me and hits the end button, dropping my phone on the table. “I have something I need to do first.” He steps forward, causing me to step back until my back hits the bookcase. He looks down at me with heavy-lidded eyes, and it makes me shiver. It feels fucking delightful.

  “What do you need to do, Owen?”

  “Something every bookworm prays will happen in a library,” he murmurs, his voice getting a little husky.

  He takes my face into his hand, and the second his lips touch mine, my knees decide to become useless. I sag against the bookcase, all these famous words our only witness to this magical moment.

  Books and Owen. Two of my favorite things.

  Owen’s tongue pushes past my lips and this kiss is everything I’ve ever dreamed of. He takes my breath away. The way his hands glide down my sides, like water running down the river, makes me sigh into his mouth.

  His kiss tells me what he can’t say. This is not our ending. We still have chapters to write in our story.

  So I kiss him back with words I can’t say out loud. I don’t want our story to end either.

  Once I’m clutching my chest from breathing so hard, and my lips are swollen from being thoroughly kissed, we grab our things and head out of the library, hand in hand.

  Two happy hearts beating in sync for the first time in a really long time.

  We can be happy. I just need some time.

  I drop Owen off at his apartment and then drive back to mine. For a split second, one thought crosses my mind. Nothing haunted my thoughts today.

  It’s refreshing. But I know it’s not over yet.

  I spend my last few hours here in Seattle with my best friend and my cat.

  And by the time it’s early morning, so early the sun hasn’t started to rise yet, I get out of bed, take the world’s longest shower and then I leave a note near the coffee pot for Coco who is sound asleep in her room.

  I gather all of Mowgli’s things and set him up in his cat caddy.

  I spot my Uber driver outside and I ask if he can help bring my suitcase down. He can’t be more than forty and he looks fit so I can put those muscles to good use.

  With my cat pat
iently waiting for me to set him down in the car, I take one last look at the house that shared a lot of my proudest moments. I’ll miss it.

  I’ll miss this city and the people in it.

  What I won’t miss is the girl who was tortured by her own mind.

  Stopping beside my driver, he holds the door open for me and throws a smile my way. “Ready, miss?”

  Something wet hits my cheek and I smile for the first time today.

  It’s starting…

  “The rain might cause some flight delays. I hear it’s supposed to be downpours all day.”

  My eyes flick up to the dark clouds as they unleash their tears. “I love the rain.” I close my eyes for one, two, three seconds and I inhale deeply. “I’m going to miss this.” There’s a low rumble piercing the air, and I know it’s going to be any second now. This is my favorite part.

  When I open my eyes, my driver, Barry stares at me with a mix of wonder and confusion.

  I set Mowgli’s caddy down on the leather seat before I enter the car. I grab the door handle and nod a thank you to Barry. “Barry, you should get in the car before you get soaked.”

  “Will do, miss.” He tips his hat at me and releases the door so I can close it. I always felt weird having people shut my own doors. Previous drivers insisted on getting it for me. It ended up in a tug-of-war over a door.

  I hear Barry get into the driver’s seat and no more than one second later, the sky rips open and bleeds for me.

  I crack open my window a smidge to smell the rain because isn’t it one of the best smells in the world?

  The rain pelting against the rooftop of the car soothes my nerves about getting on a plane. I’ve never liked them either. Too many people.

  My phone vibrates from inside my purse. I already know who is texting me so I reach for it and stare at the words on the screen.

  Owen: Even the sky is crying for you

  I take a deep breath and respond to his message.

  Me: It’s such a beautiful sound

  The little dots appear on the screen and I wait with bated breath for his next reply.

  Owen: I miss you already and you’re still within reach

  Because our hearts cannot take the pain of saying goodbye, I stare at his message without replying until we’re pulling into Sea-Tac airport and then I have to put my phone away to help Barry with my things.

  I got here three hours early because I knew I wasn’t going to handle seeing Echo cry or the possible chance that Owen showed up at the front door with Freddie.

  I knew the rain was coming so I’m prepared with the two books in my purse. I take out the most important one. The one about Owen and me.

  And I break my own heart reading every page, knowing that I’m breaking his in the process.

  I fall in love with a little girl and a little boy who have lived their lives loving each other. I clutch my chest every time the little boy gets a year older and finds something else he loves about his best friend. First it’s her eyes, the color of his favorite candy. Second is her laugh, it reminds him of his favorite song. Third is the way she loves and cares about others, always making sure they are taken care of.

  I read about a boy whose heart hurts from loving a girl so much he couldn’t breathe without her. He couldn’t sleep without talking to her before she fell asleep too. He couldn’t focus on anything besides how to make his best friend happy on her saddest days.

  It’s the stories after the car accident that shatter my heart completely. All this time I tried protecting him and I’ve done nothing but cause him excruciating pain. This was supposed to be a love story, but it was more of an unrequited love story.

  These stories read more like a diary than an actual book. These are an insight into my best friend’s mind and heartbreak.

  But this…these snippets just fucking killed me.

  Sitting Beside You, Praying For You To Come Back To Me

  All I wanted to do was hold your hand and feel your pulse underneath my fingertips, but all the bandages covering your skin were in the way. I needed to know that you were still here with me. You couldn’t leave me. What would I do without you? I loved you. We were a team. Always would be.

  I’d been sitting beside you, praying for you to come back to me for the last four weeks, and the only hope I had of knowing you were safe was the sound of your steady heartbeat through a machine. My eyes wouldn’t leave that damn screen, Zo. I was terrified of that little green line going flat.

  “I’ll order every book on your TBR if you open your eyes. I’ll stock up on your favorite tea too. I’ll leave you alone so you can read in peace, but only if you can move a finger, make a sound, or smile,” I had said, staring at your eyelids, looking for a sign that you’d open them.

  I waited so long, yet every time your vital signs showed me something good I felt myself breathe a little easier.

  I sat by your side for the next eight days. The nurses came by with a new book for each of them. They never told me to leave. I think they saw it, how much I loved you, and they couldn’t bear separating a broken teenager from the one person holding him together.

  I read each book to you, waiting for you to wake up. It wasn’t until I was done with The Hunger Games that I gently wrapped my hand around yours and felt how warm you were. You were still alive. And I couldn’t wait to hear your thoughts about Katniss and Peeta.

  I rested my head beside our joined hands for only a second until sleep overcame me. And then I felt it. A slight jerk of your fingers.

  I don’t think you understand how much that moment meant to me. Because when I opened my eyes and saw you staring back at me, I came back to life.

  When I saw the tears pooling in your eyes, I promised I’d never let you go. You were safe with me, Zo.

  You were loved by me.

  And I’d show you how deep that love went every day to come.

  Remember That Time You Slapped Me In The Face With A Book?

  It was your fifteenth birthday and you wouldn’t get out of bed; the pain was too much and you wouldn’t take any pills. You didn’t want to depend on them, you said. I’d sneak in some of my father’s whisky and we’d drink some until we were splayed out on your bed, giggling over nothing.

  I have a confession to make. I never did drink enough to get drunk. I was already drunk on you. I loved listening to your laugh when the pain subsided. I loved seeing the carefree look in your eyes. You were Zoë again. You weren’t so sad.

  At some point you got up to get a book and I sat up in your bed, watching you limp a little until you reached your bookshelves. I wanted to heal everything hurting you every time you winced or held your hips in pain. I wanted to rewind time and never have you in the car in the first place.

  You didn’t deserve all this pain.

  You grabbed the book you were looking for and then wobbled your way back to the bed. This time your footing sucked because you were tipsy. It was kinda funny to witness.

  “Here, read this and tell me if you like it,” you slurred. Then you tripped over a pile of books on the floor, causing you to fly onto the bed, that damn book still in your hands.

  “Jesus, fuck!” I’ve never been slapped so hard. And that was a hardcover.

  The second you heard the impact your eyes widened so much you looked like an adorable slow loris. You climbed onto my lap and kissed my cheek over and over again.

  Do you know what I was thinking about in that exact moment? She’s kissing me. She’s on my lap, her tits so close to my face and she’s kissing me.

  I wished you weren’t drunk.

  I wished you kissed me because you wanted to.

  I had tried like hell to hide my feelings when I realized something changed after the accident but I couldn’t. You always knew didn’t you? You had my heart from the get-go. You just didn’t want it.

  “We can’t,” were the words you whispered to me the day I kissed you for the first time by the creek. Those two words were the death of me.


  “I’m so sorry,” you said, trying to kiss away the pain. You wouldn’t stop. Your hands held my face and your thighs squeezed my legs and I couldn’t stop thinking about those two words. We can’t.

  You were kissing the wrong spot, Zoë.

  My heart hurt more than my cheek did.

  I needed a swig of whisky by that point.

  Prom Night

  You looked so goddamn beautiful in your light pink prom dress that I was jealous from all the attention you were receiving. I didn’t want anyone looking at you. You were too precious to be around those assholes.

  You were sitting at the table, rubbing the scar on your right wrist when Nando Fucking Zapata walked up to you and said something. I narrowed my eyes at that prick and it was like he felt my glare on him because he looked over his shoulder and met my gaze. And he fucking smirked at me.

  Everyone knew we were best friends.

  Everyone knew I was in love with you.

  Everyone knew you never acted on that fact.

  I poured the last spoon of punch into your cup and walked my ass over to our table. You stood up, grabbing your heels from off the floor and turned your back to him. I was two feet away when I saw his hand snake out and squeeze your ass.

  I saw fucking red.

  But you know what made me wheel in my anger?

  You turned around and kicked him right in the balls.

  Everyone was too busy dancing so they didn’t see it happen.

  But I did.

  And I was fucking glad.

  Why was I the only person allowed to touch you sometimes?

  You never backed out of my hugs, slapped my hand away before it made contact with your skin, or kicked me in the balls for squeezing your ass. Because I did that once, remember? We were sitting by the creek a few months ago on my eighteenth birthday and you wanted to climb a tree so I helped.

  I squeezed your ass and you looked down at me with the smallest grin on your lips and a mischievous look in your eyes. I saw your eyes drop to my lips. I saw the blush creeping up your neck.