“Nothing, actually.”
She froze, then pushed out of my lap. “What do you mean? You didn’t…”
There was a half moon behind her, and how could I describe what I saw? She was beautiful. Fierce. Strong. Protective. Sassy. Smart. Witty. Ambitious. Loyal. I could see the third grader I did fall in love with. It might not have been the adult love I had for her now, but it was the beginning of this whole journey we’d been on. I could see the woman she was, the wife I hoped she’d be in the future, the mother I wanted by my side. But at this very moment, she was the girl whose heart I’d broken that year.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and raked my hands through my hair. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t let me say anything more. She grabbed my hair and yanked my head up. Eyes were blazing. “What the fuck are you talking about? You didn’t cheat on me?”
The truth. That was the only thing I could tell her to make this better.
So I started, “You never saw me leaving that janitor’s closet after I cheated on you.”
Her eyebrows pulled together. Her mouth turned down and she pulled back, faltering. “I… I did. You had lipstick on your face.”
“You saw me leaving after I pushed that girl away. Gus asked me to grab him a wrench—gave me his keys and everything. I went in, and that girl slipped in after me. She grabbed me, not the other way around.”
“But…” Her eyes were darting back and forth, remembering.
It was an easy enough story to check. Gus was a regular at Manny’s. He might not remember, but there was a chance he would. I had a feeling he would.
“My mom died, Heather.”
God. This was our pattern, around and around. One long fucking circle.
Something bad happened. I walked. She walked. One of us walked, and the other let ’em. We’d go our separate ways, start missing each other, and get back together. It was a goddamn cycle that had to stop. Somehow.
“Do you remember?”
Heather moved to sit beside me, her blanket still draped around her. She wasn’t looking at me, but staring off in the distance, and a tear fell down her cheek. She flicked it away, a savage and quick motion before she spoke, her voice hoarse, “Of course I remember when your mother died. I loved her.”
I nodded. “She loved you back.”
“That’s why? That’s why you did that?”
I felt an ache digging in the middle of my chest, burrowing out a hollow hole. “I was fucked up. I was hurting. I was hurting you. I was hurting myself. Bren. I was hurting anyone close to me. You were pissed at me all the time, and I couldn’t blame you, but I didn’t want to pull you down with me.”
“Channing.” She started to reach for me.
This was the other part of the cycle.
I would hurt, or she would hurt, and the other would come. I was a selfish asshole. If I was hurting, sometimes I didn’t have the strength to keep her away. I did that time. She thought I’d cheated, and I let her.
That was the first time I let her go.
I shook my head and sat forward. “No. You have to hear all of it.” I couldn’t look at her. Call me weak, but I didn’t want to see the woman I loved in tears. I didn’t want to know I’d put them there, but it was more than goddamn time the whole truth was out.
I pressed a hand down on the porch railing and used it as an anchor. I needed it to hold me steady. “I was spiraling. Cutting classes. Vandalism. Drinking. I was already starting all of it, and I was going to make you do it with me.” I tipped my head back, closing my eyes. Jesus. This hurt. “I snuck out of your room one night, and your dad met me with a hunting rifle.”
“What?” I felt her move behind me.
“He cocked it and pointed it at me. Because, you see, he knew what was happening to me. He told me all the things I just told you—I was going down a bad path. I was taking you with me, and fuck, Heather…” I gestured around us, though there was only darkness. “It’s true, even now. You were in a gunfight. You were kidnapped. You got hurt today, and it’s my fault.”
“Shut up. Just shut up.”
I couldn’t. “He told me to leave you, and the next day when you saw me, I knew what you thought.”
It burned me. Still. I was back there in the hallway. The bitch was slipping out behind me, rubbing at her mouth. Heather was rooted in place, her eyes widening, going from my face to the girl, and back at me. I rubbed at my mouth and saw the lipstick then.
“I let you think it.”
“I switched schools because of that. Because of you. And Tate? You slept with her. The girls told me at that school.”
I shook my head. “Tate texted me, said what they told you. I asked her to let you think it.”
“Are you fucking with me?” Her forehead was wrinkling again.
I answered before she spoke again. “Tate didn’t say anything that day because she didn’t think you’d believe her. Sam started at Fallen Crest Public, and you were besties with her. Tate knew it was a losing battle. She came to me later to convince me to back her up.”
“You said no? Again?”
“We were back and forth already by then, but you were in a better school. You weren’t traveling back to Roussou anymore. You had new friends, better friends.”
“Shut up.” A small whisper.
“I spent the first part of my life trying to catch you. I’ve spent the last part trying to walk away.” My voice dropped to match hers.
I watched as her head curved down. She was trying to curl into a ball, the blanket in fistfuls on her lap.
“I was trying to let you have that better life.”
And now…
Now, I saw her walking toward me on the gravel road again. Blood all over her. Blood coming from her head. I saw myself running to her, expecting her to collapse, but she didn’t. Her eyes flashed. The fight was there. The defiance. She said her piece. She held strong until she didn’t have to any more, and I was there.
I caught her.
The second chapter of my life was over in that moment. Whether she wanted me or not, she could have me. I no longer had the strength to walk away.
That fight was gone.
I had nothing in me. I couldn’t walk, not anymore.
“You push me away every time something bad happens in your life,” she said.
My half-brother Max died. My dad went to prison. My mom died.
She was right. Every time.
“Naly,” I murmured.
She looked back up. The blood drained from her face. I saw the sheen of tears, and her eyes were so wide and wondering. “What?”
“Naly,” I said again. “When she died, you pushed me away.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
I knelt in front of her, gentling my tone. “Yes, Heather. I did it to you all those times, so I know what the signals are. I knew you were pushing me away, and I obliged that time. That time.”
Her eyes darkened. “What are you talking about?”
I reached for her hands. She started to pull them under the blanket, but I nabbed one and intertwined our fingers. “I’m done walking.”
She held my gaze, studying me, trying to decide whether to believe me or not. She swallowed. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
I was done with the distance. I’d said my piece. She was still here. That was a good enough sign for me, so I moved forward, scooping her up. I pulled her back onto my lap and said, almost roughly, “When I carried you back to the car this morning, our life flashed in front of my eyes. I’m no psychic, but all the same, it did. I can’t explain it.” My hands tightened around her. “There’s no goddamn way I’m walking. Any bad shit that comes our way, we shoulder it together.”