The Way I Am Now (The Way I Used to Be, #2)

by Amber Smith

She doesn’t even say anything; she just steps forward, right into me, her head tucking perfectly under my chin as it always did.

But then I’m around her and I remember almost immediately that for all her darkness, she can be just as bright, too.

“Well, fuck, Josh.” She throws her hands up. “This is just classic us all over again, isn’t it?” Classic us. I hate that I love the way that sounds.

realize the wild rattling of my heart isn’t because it’s shattering. It’s because this is the best, the strongest, my heart has felt in months.

Because it wouldn’t be someone like Josh—there’s no one like Josh—it would be Josh.

“I think you love the person you knew back then, the person you believe I can become again one day. But that’s not the same as loving me the way I am now.”

She spent so much of our relationship hiding her emotions because this is how she feels things—deeply, completely. That and this: she really has always cared.

Mara, my scarecrow, I save for last. “I think I’ll miss you most of all,” I whisper in her ear.

“My favorite person in the world is a little edgy and weird, herself.”

“I know how hard that was for you to say.” I shake my head. “No, it wasn’t.”

I don’t think I’ve ever wondered why. Because deep down, in that place beyond logical thinking, I thought I knew. He did what he did because I had done something to make it happen. I could never quite put my finger on what it was, whether it was just one thing or a combination of things. My head could disagree all day, tell me it wasn’t my fault, but my heart knew, always, it was me. Until now, maybe.

“I love you,” I tell him. “I love you too.” “Thank you.” “For what, loving you?” he asks, a small laugh in his voice. I smile—it hurts my face. “Yes.”

I never thought anyone could hurt me worse than I hurt myself. But knowing that he thinks the same terrible things about me that I do—it’s too much to even process.