A Tragic Heart by S. Elle Cameron Page B

seen or heard Jackson cry. I always thought that he was stronger than that. But I guess he meant it all the times he privately told me that he didn’t know if he could function without me. I start to laugh.
    “What’s so funny?” Jackson says, confused. He lets me go.
    “You blew off London and Germany for me? Are you crazy? Maybe you should be the one here, not me,” I say, laughing through my tears.
    I don’t know what it is about Jackson, but he always makes it all better. I think he truly is the angel who was sent here to save my soul.
    “Of course I did, Tay. I may regret it later, but right now I think you’re worth it,” he says, joking with me.
    “Jackson, I missed you so much!” I say hugging him again.
    “Me too, Tay.”
    He stays for a while—actually, until visiting hours are up. He tells me that Mason told him everything and that he seems really sorry. He also says that he understands and respects my decision about not going back. I ask him how long he’s staying, and he says until I get better; he can always reschedule his shows. He tells me I’m more important and if it means risking his music career, then that’s fine. I, of course, tell him not to be stupid and to go make his fans happy. But he doesn’t listen to me. He would feel too guilty to just leave while I’m still here.
    I begin showing massive improvement over the next few days. I speak to the social worker and I’m told that they just want to keep me for another day or two to make sure that I am ready to leave for good. Peyton calls me and tells me that he’s coming to see me soon. He wanted to before, but he says he wanted to give Mason and Jackson their time with me first. I’m actually pretty excited to see him. I have so many questions to ask. It feels like Peyton and Ihave been so out of touch that we have to start all over again from the beginning. But I don’t mind starting over. I think it’s good to start over sometimes. I think it’s good for me and Peyton.
    I guess Peyton was on his way when he called me because it seemed he got here in less than ten minutes. As soon as he steps into the room, we hug. He smells really good; it’s a bit intoxicating. And his body feels hard—almost as if he was lifting more weights than usual. His body heat feels great against me, and for a second I forget that he’s Peyton Giordano.
    “How have you been?” he asks as he stops hugging me.
    “I’ve been pretty good. I miss the outside world, but I think I’ve been holding up pretty well. It’s true that you really don’t know what you’re missing until someone takes it away from you.”
    “Yeah, I’ve been there before,” Peyton states, looking into my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Taylor,” he begins. “I didn’t mean—”
    I cut him off.
    “Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do it,” I inform him.
    “But I’m part of the reason why you did it. Look me in the eye and tell me that you didn’t do it because of me. That would make me feel better.”
    I want to make him feel better, but I can’t lie, either. I decide to look down and remain quiet.
    “Exactly,” he says.
    “Don’t feel guilty, Peyton. I don’t want you to. You thought you were doing the best thing, right? At least that’s what you told me when I first got here.”
    There it is
. The look I was searching for. He has something to tell me and he doesn’t want to hide it.
    “I have a problem, Taylor,” he says blandly, while looking down.
    “Peyton, we all have problems…I’m in a psych ward, for God’s sake!”
    He laughs a little, and it’s good to see him smile that hypnotizing smile.
    “And I probably belong in here right next to you,” he says, now looking up at me.
    “Peyton, what are you talking about? Just tell me. Don’t beat around the bush; you know I hate that!” I say, feeling anxious.
    “I’m bipolar.” He says it straightforward and swiftly.
    There’s a long pause between us.
    “How do you know? Did you see someone? How