5. Junior Year #2
"It has everything to do with you. Don't you get it…
" His hands find his hips as his gaze drops to the ground.
"It's what bonded us. I didn't have a mom, and you didn't have a dad.
We were the two kids with parents who abandoned us.
I didn't want to tell you about my mom suddenly coming back into the picture because I didn't want it to change things.
I didn't want to lose something that felt like us.
We laid on this grass countless days, went on more fishing trips than I can count, and took the long way home from Fisher and Sydney's house more times than not, talking about life and what that looks like with one parent, the weight we bear, the guilt, the expectations…
" His eyes slowly rise, meeting mine. "I didn't want to lose us, but more than that, I didn't want to hurt you.
You say you can handle it, but because I know you, I know a small part of you would be envious and sad, because I know what you wish for.
You wish to find your dad. I never wanted to be a source of anything that didn't bring you happiness. "
That was a loaded answer and not one I expected.
I anticipated my lack of having a father to be part of his reasoning for keeping secrets, but the rest of my mind is struggling to keep up.
"I wasn't abandoned. He doesn't know I exist," I argue, his words cutting deep because the more time passes, the more I feel they are what's true.
My mother stands on the hill of not knowing, but if that was all it truly was then why not look for him?
What mother wants to raise their child alone or, better yet, wouldn't want to give their kid a chance at knowing the one other person in this world who could love them unconditionally?
Over the years, I've tried to bring it up, but she hasn't strayed from the script: I don't know who he is and wouldn't begin to know where to look.
"Fuck, Laney." Before I can react, he's pulling me into his strong arms, the same ones I've dreamed about falling back into all summer.
I spent a large part of my summer being upset about how he left things, and doubt made me wonder if he left things unsaid so he could have a carefree summer to do and see who he wanted.
The depth and care he spoke with now feels like he's always seen me, just like it did the night before he disappeared.
That felt like a dream, like we were always meant to be, but in leaving, he also taught me something: to be careful with my heart.
"I didn't mean it like that. My mother abandoned me.
I didn't mean to project that on you. Nobody could ever abandon you.
You're unforgettable, heartbreaker." I let myself soak in the way his body feels pressed against mine and inhale his musky scent, letting it wash over me and calm the storm that has been brewing inside me.
"I'm sorry, Laney. I'm bitter and mad. I'm twisted up inside, and none of that is your fault.
But if I've learned anything from all of this, it's this: there's power in knowledge, but there's also peace in ignorance because you can't undo what has been done.
Once you know—you know. Good or bad, it's what is. "
"Getting to know your mom was that bad?" I murmur against his chest, clinging to him a little longer, hating the pain I hear in his words.
"I wish I'd never met her. Sure, for years, that wasn't the case.
When I was younger, I wanted her to come home, but at some point, I stopped wanting the things that didn't want me back, and that was her.
Never knowing her would have been better.
The mother I reasoned her to be was better than the woman she is. "
His words hang in the air between us, raw and final, as I steal a few more seconds, melting into the embrace as if my touch can somehow absorb the years of hurt he'd carried.
I want this. I want to be his safe haven, but I'm hurt too.
I take one last deep inhale, drinking him in and storing away all the tender pieces because I'm going to need them.
I'm going to need them when I push him away.
I pull my arms up and press my hands to his chest to break us apart and watch as his eyes search mine. "I need to go back inside. Noah is in there."
"Are you saying you're with Noah?"
I push a strand of hair behind my ear. "That's not what I'm saying, but you don't get to just walk back in," I say, stepping around him to head back inside.
He reaches for my hand. "What do I have to do to make it up to you?"
I roll my eyes with a sigh. "I don't really know.
All I know is I can't let you back that easy—not because I don't want you, but because…
" I want to say my heart is not ready to be broken again, but he didn't break it, not really.
To break it, he'd have to have it, and that's not an admission I'm ready to give. "You need to grovel."
"Grovel?" he repeats slowly.
"Yeah, boyfriends do that when they're in the doghouse."
"Boyfriend?" It sounds like a question, and I can't tell if his tone is skeptical or receptive.
I just flippantly labeled our relationship. We spent one night making out and a summer apart, and with one sentence, I may have ended everything before it began, but I guess if that's true, then it answers the question of what he doesn't want: ME .
I hold up my hand and start up the steps. "I said what I said. Grovel or don't."
"Oh my god, the energy is crazy here tonight," Sydney says as we leave the field.
"I know. The year's first football game is always a big deal around here, but you're right.
Tonight feels extra." Willow Creek is small.
The high school football games are the Friday-night events around here, but there's a buzz in the air tonight that can't be ignored.
Maybe it's because this is our last first game cheering on Fisher and London since they are seniors this year, or perhaps it's because London is back, and every time he goes to the bench, he looks for me.
All I know is that tonight's game is already leaving a memory I won't soon forget.
"It helps that we're currently winning."
"Yeah, that pass London made to Fisher right before halftime was epic." She bumps my shoulder. "London looks good out there. Does that have anything to do with pre-game make-out sessions, or is he still in the doghouse?"
I roll my eyes. "To be in the doghouse, we'd have to be something.
We shared one night kissing, and then he left for the whole summer, and need I remind you, I already kind of—sort of—called him my boyfriend, and let's just say he looked like a deer caught in headlights, and it hasn't come up since. "
"I wouldn't read too much into that, Lanes.
He was caught off guard, is all. You're right.
It was one night before he left, and the night before that was complete chaos, but one thing is for certain: that boy has it bad for you.
He's been driving you to and from school all week, picking you up after your shifts at the flower shop, and if that isn't enough, there's no denying that his eyes have been scanning the field for you all night.
I'm pretty sure the entire stadium knows where his focus is when he's not playing. "
"I know," I say as I release a long sigh and watch him get into position for the snap.
"I've already given him so much power over me, and he hasn't even really been mine.
London Hale has been the forever I've dreamed about since the first day I saw him.
Maybe I'm not in a hurry to find out that not all dreams are meant to be lived.
Sometimes, they're only meant to stay in our heads. "
"That sounds a lot like fear. It's his senior year.
He's going to be gone before you know it.
You don't want to waste the few months you have left wondering what could have been.
" I watch him throw the ball downfield, and her words hit deep as he completes the pass, and our wide receiver goes down at the twenty-yard line.
"And look at it this way: if he's not your forever, wouldn't you rather know now than spend forever waiting to find out?
Come on, Lanes, these are our days. We're supposed to be reckless and carefree, not worrying about tomorrow or what comes next. "
I pull in an anxious, deep breath, and before her rightness has time to settle, someone else is stealing my attention. "Hey, Laney. Do you have a second?" Noah calls out from the raised platform of the bleachers above the track.
I look over at my coach. Technically, we don't have to go back on the field to perform, but we're supposed to stay and watch the game from the sidelines as a team. I really want to know what he has to say. I nod toward the end of the bleachers, and he follows.
"Did you find anything?" I ask as soon as I step away from the crowd.
"I did," he says, jumping over the waist-high chain-link fence. "I have two leads."
"Leads…plural?" I squeal excitedly and go in for a hug. "That's amazing."
"Don't get too excited?—"
"Stop," I cut him off, not wanting him to discredit himself. "It's more than I had three weeks ago."
The crowd roars, and we turn around to see our team running into a huddle.
The Mustangs just won their first home game of the season, and while all eyes are on the field, one dark pair is keenly zeroed in on me and the guy with his arms wrapped around me.
I was nervous about coming back to school this year after the way sophomore year ended, and while I get the occasional side-eye or stare that lasts longer than social norms would deem acceptable, it's more awe than anything else.