I swallowed back the pain, refusing to let the tears come. I couldn’t spend my entire life crying, there had to be a stopping point. I curled up with my phone on my pillow and drifted off to sleep.
Rhythmic pounding on the wall behind my head woke me up in a haze. I glanced at the clock: 2:57 a.m. What the hell? The sound continued, shaking the wall in time. What could he be doing? The only thing on that wall was . . .
Oh, fuck. His bed.
My heart shattered into a million tiny pieces, which then shattered again. It’s not like he was cheating on me, right? I turned him down, broke up with him, hurt him. He’d just won the league championship tonight, what the hell did I expect from a playboy like Josh Walker? It was only surprising he’d waited this long.
But that didn’t mean I had to listen to it.
I scooped up my pillow and comforter and headed out to the couch. This time, as I lay down, I didn’t bother to stop the tears; I just let them consume me.
Monday morning, I slid into my seat in history and pulled out my notebook without looking at Josh. I couldn’t. I already envisioned him in bed with that other girl, I didn’t need to see his face to do it.
“Great game, Josh.” Mindy slid past him, running her hand along his shoulder as she claimed her seat. Maybe it was her.
I bit my lip and kept my eyes on my blank paper.
“Calm down, everyone.” Professor Carving pulled his notes onto the lectern. “Oh, and congratulations, Walker. That was quite a shot.”
“I had some great inspiration.”
I nearly gagged on my coffee.
“You must have,” Professor Carving agreed. “Now, we’re onto the end of the Battle of Gettysburg, and I’m assuming you’ve all done the required reading?”
A few muttered assents greeted him.
“Oh no? Pop quiz it is.” A collective groan went up. “Easy peasy. Just write your name on the top and, to the best of your recollection, write down your favorite line from the address.”
I scrawled my name across the top line and brought out of memory exactly what had stuck in my mind. Like I’d ever forget it.
He waited a few minutes before ending the quiz. “Okay, now everyone pass your paper to the right.”
I stuck my paper out at Josh without looking at him. His fingertips brushed against the back of my hand, scalding me, destroying me all over again.
I took Patrick’s paper from my left. He was quiet, unassuming, and, unfortunately for his sex life, kind of acne-ridden. But he was sweet as could be.
“Who wants to read the paper they have? Mindy?”
She cleared her throat, sounding like a porn star. “Forescore and seven years ago—”
“Ah, easy way out! Who else do we have?”
“I will,” Josh answered.
No. I didn’t want to hear his voice, but since plugging my ears and rocking back and forth wasn’t an option, I had to listen.
“Mr. Walker, let’s hear it.”
Josh’s voice was clear and strong. “That from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain.”
There was no sound over the erratic beat of my heart.
Professor Carving leaned back against the podium. “Ms. Howard? Why did that passage come to mind?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing would come out, not without breaking down in front of the entire class, which sure as hell was not going to happen.
“Ms. Howard?”
I shook my head and closed my eyes, wishing my seat would consume me and let me out of this situation where I couldn’t manage to complete a simple task like talking.
“Ember’s dad was killed in Afghanistan a few months ago,” Josh answered softly, reaching across the aisle and leaving my paper on my desk.
I opened my eyes and looked into the surprised eyes of Professor Carving. “I can see how that would draw you to this passage.”
I nodded my head, but he didn’t get it.
The rest of the class passed in a blur, then he dismissed us. I gathered my things at the same time Josh did. “Ember?”
I braced myself and turned, still blown away by how impossibly gorgeous he was, but his looks had nothing on his kindness, his warmth. Any girl in this school would have been grateful for just a shot at Josh, let alone his heart on a plate. “Yeah?”
He raised his hand like he wanted to touch me, but lowered it slowly. “Your dad, he didn’t die in vain.”
I pulled the loose piece of paper from my bag, folded it in half, and handed it to him. “What made you think it was meant for Dad? You’re the one resolved. What’s your full measure of devotion?”
I walked away before I had to listen to his answer.
Chapter Twenty-Four
March faded after another snowstorm, bringing April and three more storms over the greening grass. May, however, was finally gorgeous.
I pulled on a pair of black capris and a soft, pale blue blouse for Sunday dinner. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the dependable routine of our house until it was gone. Now everything seemed to be in place again; we were just missing Dad.
I turned his letter over again, rubbing the ink so frequently I was amazed it hadn’t worn off. The lines were softer now, smudged from my trifling. Four and a half months had passed, but holding that letter made it feel like I was still standing at the front door, opening it to disaster. I put the letter back up on the shelf and headed out.