Free Cherish (Covet #1.5) by Tracey Garvis Graves

that follow aren’t easy for Daniel, but as I watch him begin to climb his own mountain, my heart can barely hold all the love I feel for him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
    DANIEL
    After I get out of the shower, I find Jessie in the kitchen stirring chili on the stove. The smell of garlic and onions reached me in the back bedroom while I was walking on the treadmill, and the smell is even stronger now. She is singing and dancing along to a song on the radio like she couldn’t care less who’s watching her. This Jessie reminds me of the larger-than-life girl I fell in love with. That’s how Dylan referred to her once: larger than life. Of course, he said it with disdain, but that’s only because Jessie had dared to steal some of his thunder. Whether or not she’d meant to was of no concern to Dylan. One of the things I remember now is the type of relationship Jessie had with Dylan. She could spar with him like nobody’s business. If you ask me, he enjoyed it.
    “How was your workout?” Jessie asks when I reach into the fridge for a bottle of water.
    “It was okay. I walked three miles. My balance felt really good. I wish the doctor would clear me to run.”
    She smiles. “Patience, grasshopper.”
    Regular exercise is one of the ways I’m dealing with my depression because my doctors are all about the endorphins. Jess also sees to it that I eat well, sleep only the amount I should and not a minute more, and that we get out of the house every day. If Jess has errands to run, I go with her, and lately I’ve spent more time at the grocery store, mall, and Target than I have in the past two years combined.
    It helps, though. Every single bit of it helps.
    “Smells good,” I say, lifting the lid on the pot.
    “It will be. Just needs to hang out on the heat a bit longer.”
    The song ends and a new song comes on the radio. There’s something about the opening notes that captures my attention immediately, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s like this sometimes: certain things float just beyond my grasp.
    Slowly, she turns around and looks at me, and I can tell by her expression that she desperately wants me to make the connection.
    The wheels are trying to turn, but it’s as if someone has poured glue into my brain and everything is stuck. Jessie waits patiently, but I can’t. I just…‌can’t.
    “Tell me,” I say.
    “‘Tupelo Honey’ by Van Morrison. When we first started dating, I was in this big Van Morrison phase. Everyone was all into grunge, but I was in my dorm playing Van Morrison on vinyl. I played this song so much you used to call me tupelo honey. When I’d walk into the room you’d say, ‘Hey, there’s my tupelo honey. She sure is sweet.’ Eventually you just shortened it to honey. I’d go for weeks without hearing you call me by my real name. Some of your friends even started to call me honey, but you didn’t like that at all and put a stop to it pretty fast. When you woke up in intensive care, you looked right at me and said honey. You said it with such clarity and conviction that it stunned me. Your mom and I went nuts because we knew you were with us again.” Her eyes fill with tears.
    “Are you upset because I don’t remember?”
    “No,” she says, shaking her head. But now she’s really crying and the tears are running down her face. “I’m crying because this was our wedding song. And if anyone had asked me on that day if I could ever imagine not spending the rest of my life with you, I would have looked at them like they were crazy.”
    I may not remember everything about my relationship with Jess, but it doesn’t take much to know when someone needs comfort, and I pull her into my arms. Her body shakes as she cries, and I stroke her back and say, “It’s okay, Jess. It’s okay.”
    She lifts her head off my chest. “No, it is not okay. I’m the reason we’re no longer married. Not you. Me. If I could take back everything I said, every time I shut you out, I