Copyright 2018 by Colleen Hoover

washed her hair in two days. What she was wearing. Purple leggings, a black
shirt, and a knitted sweater. What she was doing. Sitting at the table with Crew,
coloring. The last thing Jeremy said to her that day. I love you, Harper.
Chastin had been gone six months that day. To the day. Which meant I had
spent one hundred eighty-two and a half days building resentment for the child
responsible.
Jeremy had slept upstairs the night before. Crew cries for him almost every
night, so for the last two months, he’s been sleeping in the guest bedroom
upstairs. I tried to tell him it’s not good for Crew. He’s spoiling him. But Jeremy
doesn’t listen to me anymore. His primary focus are his two remaining children.
It’s strange how we have one less child for him to focus on, yet that
somehow turned into requiring more of his focus.
We’ve had sex four times since Chastin died. He can’t seem to get it up
anymore when I try. Not even when I suck his dick. The worst part is that it
doesn’t even seem to bother him. He could take Viagra, but he refuses. He says
he just needs more time to adjust to life without Chastin.
Time.
You know who didn’t need time? Harper.
She didn’t even go through an adjustment period after Chastin’s death. She
never cried. Not even a single tear. It’s weird. It isn’t normal. Even I cried.
I guess it makes sense that Harper wouldn’t cry. Guilt can do that to a
person.
Maybe guilt is why I’m writing it all down.
Because Jeremy needs to know the truth. Someday, somehow, he’ll find this.
And then he’ll realize how much I fucking loved him.
Back to the day Harper got what was coming to her.
I was standing in the kitchen, watching her color. She was showing Crew
how to color on top of another color to make a third color. They were laughing.
Crew’s laugh was understandable, but Harper’s? Inexcusable. I was tired of

---

holding in my anger.
“Are you even upset that Chastin is dead?”
Harper lifted her eyes to meet my gaze. She was pretending to be afraid of
me. “Yes.”
“You haven’t even cried. Not once. Your twin sister died and you act like
you don’t even care.”
I could see the tears welling up in her eyes. Funny how the kid Jeremy
believes can’t express emotion can bring on the tears when she’s being called
out.
“I do care,” Harper said. “I miss her.”
I laughed at her. My laughter brought on the actual tears. She scooted her
chair back and ran up to her bedroom.
I looked at Crew and flicked a hand in Harper’s direction. “Now she cries.”
Figures.
Jeremy must have passed her upstairs, because I could hear him knocking on
her door. “Harper? Sweetie, what’s wrong?”
I mimicked him, using a squeaky child-like voice. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?”
Crew giggled. At least I’m funny to the four-year-old.
A minute later, Jeremy walked into the kitchen. “What’s wrong with
Harper?”
“She’s mad,” I lied. “I wouldn’t let her go play by the lake.”
Jeremy kissed me on the side of my head. It felt genuine and it made me
smile. “It’s a nice day out,” he said. “You should take them to the shore.”
He was behind me, so he didn’t see me roll my eyes. I should have thought
of a better lie to excuse Harper’s tears, because now he wanted me to take them
outside and play with them.
“I wanna go to the water,” Crew said.
Jeremy grabbed his wallet and his keys. “Go tell Harper to get her shoes on.
Your mom will take you. I’ll be back before lunch.”
I turned around and faced him. “Where are you going?”
“Groceries,” he said. “I told you this morning.”
He did say that.
Crew ran upstairs, and I sighed. “I’d rather do the shopping. You stay and
play with them.”
Jeremy walked up to me, wrapping an arm around me. He pressed his
forehead to mine, and I felt that gesture go straight to my heart. “You haven’t
written in six months. You don’t go outside. You don’t play with them.” He
pulls me in for a hug. “I’m getting worried about you, babe. Just take them
outside for half an hour. Get some Vitamin D.”

---

“Do you think I’m depressed?” I said, pulling back. That was laughable. He
was the depressed one.
Jeremy set his keys on the counter so he could hold my face with both of his
hands. “I think we’re both depressed. And we will be for a while. We need to
look out for each other.”
I smiled at him. I liked that he thought we were in this together. Maybe we
were. He kissed me then, and for the first time in a long time, he kissed me with
tongue and very little grief. It felt like old times. I pulled him to me and lifted
onto my toes, deepening the kiss. I felt him harden against me, without coercion
this time.
“I want you to sleep in our room tonight,” I whispered.
He smiled against my lips. “Okay. But there won’t be much sleeping.”
His tone of voice, his heated eyes, that grin. There you are, Jeremy