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“I don’t know who you are anymore. I can’t stand up for you knowing all I know. After all I’ve seen, after all you’ve done, I can’t keep making excuses for you.” — Untitled Henry Hayes Manuscript

The past few days have been a whirlwind of emotions, and since we don’t have group plans for today, I’m headed out to a small coffee shop to try and get some words in.

I’ll be honest, all this emotional shit that has dredged up inside me where Amelia is concerned has helped the words flow a bit easier. I knew it would. There’s a reason my first book did so well—I wrote it only a few months after Amelia and I had our falling out.

If I can even call it that. She and I never fell in the same direction. It was more like she pushed me off a cliff and didn't stick around to see if I hit the rocks or the water.

Mitch and my family have been constantly checking in on me, my sister especially.

It feels good to have some people care enough to call and want to talk to me.

According to Mitch, he’s made decent progress on his manuscript while I’m over here ignoring the emails from my editor asking for an update.

I sent one back about a week ago, just so they didn't think I was dead or something, but I was vague on purpose.

I don’t want to jinx myself, and if I tell them everything is going well, it might jump me back into the block I had before I came face to face with my own form of emotional torture. At least I’m actually writing again, though. That has to be a good sign or something.

It does feel good to pretend I could still be a writer, even after wanting to trash this manuscript about a thousand times since I started it.

Two sharp knocks on my door as I gather my laptop and notes into my bag make me pause, and I already know who stands on the other side of the door. When Oliver’s face greets me with a weird smirk, I get worried.

“Is everything okay?”

Now he looks confused. “Yeah, why?”

“Your face looks weird.”

He sighs heavily. “I was trying not to look so menacing.”

“Honestly, I get more worried when you don’t look how you normally do.

” I wave my hand out, and he comes in, sitting on the edge of my bed as I lean against the small desk I have in my room.

“Did you want to talk about something, or is this some sort of wedding freak out Grant thinks you’re going to have? ”

He only rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to freak out, so if you could all stop assuming I’m going to, that would be wonderful.” He rubs his hand down his chin as I wait for him to hopefully explain himself .

Or he could just not say anything. That used to happen a lot when I first met him at Grand Mountain.

He would talk, and I would always assume he had more to say, but he would remain quiet.

As I got to know him better, I realized he’s not a small talk kind of guy, and I got used to his one and done sentences.

“So, what’s up?” I ask again, a bit worried about whatever he came in here to say.

“I just wanted to check in with you about things.”

I pinch my eyebrows, still confused. “Uh, why? And what things?”

“Why do you sound so confused?”

“Because you came in here willingly to ask me how I am.”

He throws his hands up. “Why is that so weird?”

“Have you met yourself?” I say, a laugh slipping out on accident. “Oliver, you and I have never made small talk about our feelings ever, so color me confused.”

“That’s not true!” he says as he stands. I’ve never seen him so animated before, and all of us should really thank Paige. She’s softened him immensely if he’s really in here to talk with me about how I’m feeling. “When you picked me up from the police station, we talked about stuff.”

“Yes, but you also yelled at me for not driving fast enough when I was already at fifteen over,” I joke. “And that was a few years ago, so don’t blame me for reacting like this when we’ve barely seen one another.”

Out of everyone, Oliver and I stayed in contact the most. Grant was here and there, but Oliver and I probably checked in about once a month. After Grant was hospitalized last year, Oliver called me to talk it out. I was worried, but Grant sent me a bunch of memes when he was feeling better.

“Whatever,” he says as he sits back down. “I just wanted to ask you how you’re doing being back in close proximity to the devil. ”

I scoff as I sit in the desk chair, knowing he’s talking about Amelia. I thought for sure when I saw them both again, they would get along, but I guess some things never change.

“It’s weird, honestly. We’ve had a few conversations with one another about everything that happened, but they always leave me feeling more confused.”

“Well, that tracks. Amelia is the most confusing and terrifying person I’ve ever met.”

My knee jerk reaction is to stand up for her, to tell Oliver he’s wrong.

She’s just complex, complicated, and has made more than a few mistakes, but I bite my tongue.

I no longer know who Amelia is. I’m not hers and she’s not mine, and I’m not going to defend her actions.

Even I don’t understand why she does what she does.

I'm also tired of making excuses for her when I talk about our situation. I’ve defended her in my mind so many times, I often forget how badly she hurt me. I’m done pretending like there’s an excuse for what she did, because there isn't.

If I was in her situation, I never would have done what she did. In fact, I doubt running and never looking back would have ever crossed my mind.

“Do you still love her?”

His question surprises me. “You of all people asking me that feels a little crazy. In another timeline, it’s Grant asking me that.”

“I’m just curious, Henry. Have you seen the way you two still look at one another? If I didn't know your history, I would think something was up.”

“What do you mean?” The two of us haven't interacted much since we’ve been here, at least not as much as everyone else. Most of the time, we’re separated in group settings.

“I can’t really explain it, but it’s something in your eyes when you look at Amelia. They almost sparkle in a way, as if you’ve just discovered a new galaxy or something. She looks at you the exact same way, but her eyes are more downturned, full of sadness.”

“I didn't know you paid such close attention to anyone besides Paige,” I joke.

“Consider it a one-time thing then,” he says, looking at his feet.

The two of us are quiet for a few moments before the words come tumbling out.

“Of course, I still love her. With the way things ended, I felt suspended in time, with nowhere to put my feelings for her, so they sort of festered. I have lots of confusing emotions about Amelia. I hate her, but I wish she would talk to me. I love her, but I wish she didn't end things how she did. I’ll never be able to forget her, but sometimes, I wish I could wipe my brain of knowing her. It’s the weirdest thing. ”

“Do you think you could want what you two used to have, whatever it was?”

“I don’t know,” I say truthfully. Besides an actual answer as to why she did what she did, I’m not sure where the two of us go after we sort our shit out—if we even can.

“I thought I knew how our story was going to unfold.

I thought we were on the same page when it came to our collective future, but we weren't.”

“Then maybe just take it one step at a time. Maybe just get some answers while she’s here and go from there.

” Oliver stands and comes over to me. “But be careful. I’m still not fully sure Amelia is here for the long haul.

Just…protect yourself and that heart of yours.

I don’t want a repeat of what happened last time when Amelia ran out on everyone. ”

I nod. “Yeah, me neither.”

“Good. Now go write that damn book of yours and enjoy today by yourself.”

He’s about to leave my room before I speak up. “Thanks, Oliver.”

“For what?”

“The invitation,” I tell him. “And for everything, really. ”

“You’re a good guy, Henry. Try not to forget that.” He shuts my door before I continue to pack my bag, hoping a change of scenery will help me chip away at my manuscript.

I can’t help that my mind floats back to Amelia. All of us around her are in the same boat. There are a few options in terms of what could happen after all of this is over, but the one thing I know for sure is, I’m not going to have any expectations.