Page 154 of Until August

But on the other hand, if Dylan had done what I suspected, he saved his friend from going through more of the hell he was in.

And wasn’t that what love was all about?

“Nic? You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I have to go. Send my love to Scarlett and the kids….”

“Hang on. Do you need anything?”

“No. But thanks.” I cut the call before he could say more, turned off my phone again, and tossed it on the bedside table.

Then I went back to staring at the ceiling, contemplating love in all its many facets.

Sometimes love was about grand gestures. But, more often, it was in the little things you do for someone.

It’s in the morning coffee you serve them.

The quiet walks on the beach.

The nights you hold each other close.

The days you’re feeling low, they snuggle on the couch with you and watch your favorite movies for the millionth time without complaining.

It’s stocking the pantry with their favorite snacks and ensuring they have enough beer for poker night with the guys.

It’s cheering for the Lakers when you’re not a basketball fan.

It’s laughing at the same jokes and listening to the same stories you’ve heard a hundred times but still finding them funny and interesting.

It's all the seemingly inconsequential things you do to show the person that they are number one. They matter. They’re important. They’re your world. Your entire universe.

Cruz and I did all those little things and the big ones, too.

So, I had no regrets. Because I showed up. I was there for everything that mattered most when he was still here to appreciate it.

That was what mattered. That was what counted most.

And if Dylan had taken it upon himself to end his best friend’s suffering, who was I to tell him he was wrong?

Everythingwe’d done was in the name of love.

My ears perked up when I heard the distinctive rumbling of a car engine. Not a car. A pickup.Peaches.

I rolled off my bed, crept to the window, and pushed the blind aside.

I pressed my palm against the windowpane and stared out into the darkness, barely able to make out the silhouette of his truck in the moonlight. It was partially hidden by the bare branches of a tree.

But I knew it was him.

My heart stuttered, and then it took flight.

He was here.

For the past two months, I’d tried to shove him out of my mind and heart.

Despite my best intentions, it didn’t always work.

Now I was seized by a need so strong. To see him. To hear his voice. To be close to him again.