It Starts with Us by Colleen Hoover

danger by showing up at your house again. And I didn’t want to be arrested
because then I wouldn’t have been able to go to the military. I thought the
best thing would be to put space between us, and then someday I would
contact you down the line and see if you ever still thought of me like I
thought of you.”
“Every day,” she whispers. “I thought of you every single day.”
I run my hand over her back for a while, and then I stroke my fingers
through her hair, wondering how in the world she can make me feel so whole
when I had no idea I was only half of myself without her.
Of course I’ve missed her all these years, and if I could have snapped my
fingers and brought her back into my life, I would have in a heartbeat. But we
had built lives without each other, her with Ryle and me with my career, and
I assumed that was our fate. I had grown used to not living life with her. But
now that she’s back, I don’t know that I could ever feel whole again without
her. Especially after tonight.
“Lily,” I whisper.
She doesn’t respond. I pull back a little and can see that her eyes are
closed, and her arm has gone limp around me. I’m scared if I move, I’ll wake
her up. But I told Josh I’d only be a couple of hours later than the time I
initially gave him, and I’m at three hours now. I’m not even sure I’m allowed
to leave twelve-year-olds by themselves.
Brad was okay with it when I asked if they were fine by themselves, and if
he doesn’t even allow Theo to have a phone, I doubt he’d let me leave them
alone while I went on a date unless Brad has left Theo alone before.
Maybe I should google what the age limit is in Boston for a kid to stay by
themselves.
I’m overthinking this. Of course, they’re fine. Neither of them has called
or texted with any kind of emergency, and twelve-year-olds even babysit
other kids sometimes.
I think I’m fine, but I still need to get home. I don’t know Josh well
enough yet to be convinced he isn’t throwing a rager in my house right now. I
slowly remove my arm from beneath Lily’s head and ease out of her bed. I
dress as quietly as I can, and then I go in search of a pen and paper. I don’t
want to wake her up, but I don’t want to leave without saying anything.
Especially after the night we had.
I find a notebook and a pen in her kitchen drawer, so I sit at the table to
write her a letter. When I finish, I take it back to her bedroom and I set the