Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
PRESENT DAY
The car ride back to Will’s apartment is quiet. Neither of us seems to know how to bring up the obvious.
How do we move forward from here?
I feel terrible for Ruth, terrible that I pushed Mom to talk about what she’s clearly been struggling to process on her own.
I guess, in a way, some small part of me needed to believe Ruth was murdered. That she’d never choose to leave us. That’s what stings.
Even though, in my rational mind, I know she was hurting.
I know her choice doesn’t speak to how much she loved us, but it will always be devastating to know that we should’ve had longer with her, and she chose to say goodbye.
Bitter tears sting my eyes. I hate myself for feeling angry with her. I hate myself for making this about me.
When we arrive, Will doesn’t move to open his door first. Instead, he just sits, staring straight ahead. “I, um…” He clears his throat. “This whole Ruth thing is really messing me up, not gonna lie.”
“I know, I…” I reach out without thinking, brushing my hand over his thigh. The contact is nothing, barely noticeable. And yet, it’s everything.
I pull back, gathering my thoughts again.
“It feels weird that there was this whole part of her life we never touched. She, like, took me to get highlights and taught me to ride a bike, but I didn’t know anything about her life before us.
” I squeeze my eyes shut. My chest aches as if it’s been sliced open.
“Do you…think it was hard for her? Being around us and knowing what she was missing with her own family?”
Will tilts his head, studying me like he’s trying to spare me from the truth.
Or protect me somehow. He lands on, “We were her family. I don’t think we should feel guilty, if that’s what you mean.
Our moms made choices we may never fully grasp.
But…I mean, looking back, do I think they were happy? That she was happy?”
He bobs his head slowly, thoughtfully. “Yeah, I do. And maybe that’s selfish. But I loved our childhood. I knew it was weird because kids at school let us know it was weird. We were the only kids in class with essentially three moms who showed up to every event, but it was also…really special.”
He raps a fist against his knee, eyes tracing the lines of the window. When he glances at me, he catches the way I’m fidgeting with my hands in my lap and smiles.
His hand comes across to mine, smoothing away my worry without putting a name to it.
“You know, it was Ruth who really got me into math. When I was struggling in…I don’t know, I think it was seventh grade, she explained it to me in a way that no one ever had.
It was like our brains worked the same way.
And it really changed things for me. And…
I mean, most of my musical taste came from your mom.
She always had those old records on. My mom played music during the holidays, but it was like your mom never turned her music off. ”
His expression turns wistful. “They made us who we are, and I hate that we didn’t know she was struggling. But I can’t go down the rabbit hole of wondering if I did enough. If I visited enough. If I”—his voice cracks—“told her thank you.”
I draw our clasped hands closer to my chest, sandwiching his palm between mine. His eyes follow the line of our connection, lifting slowly.
“Ruth chose us. They all did. Actively. Our moms bought the land together,” he says. “It took all of them. And if one single piece of that equation had been different, we might not know each other. That is…a reality I refuse to think about.”
Carbonation crackles under my skin.
“But I’d be lying if I said hearing Ruth’s story didn’t scare me.
” His thumb brushes over mine. “Not because we didn’t know her, but because we did.
She was strong and stubborn and ridiculous sometimes.
” A laugh plays at his lips, and it’s almost a shield, but it doesn’t fool me.
“But at the end of the day, love was dangerous for her. Falling for someone. Loving someone so much that being hurt by them was enough to…” His eyes hit my lips, and the intensity of his gaze makes me shiver.
I’m aware he’s reading me. Noticing every twitch, every breath.
“I know I’m rambling, and I don’t know where your head is or if that’s a conversation for another time, and I just—”
I smooth my free hand over the back of his. His jaw locks, his body going still. His eyes search mine before he goes on.
“All of this just reminded me I don’t want to lose you.
In whatever way I get you. Even if we just keep fighting for the rest of our lives, I don’t want to lose you.
So maybe…maybe tonight was a mistake. Because if I can have you forever in one way, and not risk losing you because of a stupid fight or because one of us hurt the other…
And maybe I’m reading into something that isn’t there…
Or… Well, I’m just… I don’t know.” He rubs a hand over his face.
“I don’t know what I’m even trying to say.
Except that I can’t lose you. I’m afraid I wouldn’t survive it.
” He won’t meet my eyes then, looking away as he delivers the final blow. “I know I wouldn’t survive it.”
My stomach twists at the vulnerability in his voice, his words. It hangs in the space between us. A hand climbs my ribcage from inside my chest, taking hold of my lungs. I can hardly breathe.
Slowly, I lift his hand to my lips and press a kiss to our entangled fingers.
“One day you will, though. Not to get really morbid, but all of this has me thinking about death a lot. One day, I’ll lose Mom.
We’ll lose Cory. I’ll lose you. Or vice versa.
So…maybe all we can do is make sure we’re doing everything we can to hold on to the people we care about while we have the chance.
Because one day we’ll have to say goodbye, Will.
All of us. No matter how safe we play it. ”
Will freezes. For a long time, he just stares at me, at my lips, at our hands in the glow of the dashboard light.
“Opal, I…” His words come out like he’s carving each one into stone, testing. “I don’t know what safe even looks like with you. If… Maybe…if we want something, maybe it’s better to take it than to hold it at arm’s length to protect ourselves. If it’s going to hurt either way, eventually.”
There’s a long pause. My lungs expand.
“Someday,” he goes on, “you’re right. I’ll lose you whether I ever have you or not.
Or you’ll lose me. I’ve…I’ve spent a long time, my whole life, not telling you what I’m thinking.
Hiding what I want, biting my tongue, because I thought I was protecting myself.
Us. Because being someone in your life, even if it was the guy who annoyed you, was better than being nothing at all.
But I don’t want to do that anymore. To minimize what we have or what I feel…
and I don’t want you to, either. I want you to tell me what you’re thinking.
And I’m going to tell you what I want, exactly what’s in my head.
And that terrifies me. But it terrifies me even more to think I might never get to say it. That you might never know how I…”
A shiver runs down my spine. Every word hits my chest like a drumbeat. My fingers tighten in his.
He still can’t say it.
The conversation with Cory echoes in my mind.
I scrape my teeth across my bottom lip, weighing my next words.
They’re terrifying. I’m standing on a ledge, up so high I can’t see anything but clouds.
And I need to jump. I need to trust that the water is there, ready to catch me.
Because Cory’s right, and Will’s right. If I don’t jump, I will lose him.
And that thought alone is more horrifying than any fall from any height.
“If Ruth taught us anything, at least for me, it was to hold onto the things that make us happy with both hands,” I say, voice trembling.
“And you’re… You make me happy. You do. You also infuriate me and annoy me, and…
you’re the most frustrating person I’ve ever met.
But to think that I could lose you, I just, I can’t—I couldn’t—I’m not sure I—”
I pause, drawing in a shaky breath. He waits, a mix of disbelief and amusement shifting across his features.
“Earlier, you asked if I still want you, and I never got to answer that question.” Another breath, this time more sure.
“The truth is that I never stopped. I want you. I have wanted you. I…yes…is my answer. And that scares me because I don’t want to lose you, either—I can’t lose you.
It would… I think it would break something in me I could never fix.
It would break our family. It would ruin…
everything.” I draw in a sharp breath, then release it with a sigh.
Thinking. Last chance to back out. “But…I want you. Us. You. Yes.”
His face comes to life. Slowly, a mischievous spark lights up behind the seriousness. His hand moves to his chest, and he mouths, “Me?”
That goofy personality has returned.
My Will.
The Will I’ve always known.
I swat his hand with a laugh, but that touch sparks a fire along my arm. When our skin connects, his fingers catch my wrist. There is no air left in this space, only heat. Flames. Our eyes lock.
He pulls me across the console, and it’s like gravity itself conspires to push us together.
His lips crash into mine, desperate and begging for more.
More touch, more pressure, more everything.
A lifetime of longing. Of almost.
“Inside,” he mutters, barely dragging our mouths apart.
He grabs the keys and we’re out of the car in seconds, stumbling up the stairs like we’ve forgotten how to use our feet. Forgotten everything except this feeling, this anticipation.
Limbs tangle. Breaths come ragged in between laughter and gasps.
Every sound we make echoes with memories of an entirely different kind: mud fights, pool days, games of Truth or Dare we barely survived.
And somehow, we ended up here.