Chapter 23
MYLES
I put my car in park and step out. I wish I didn’t have to park so far away, but I didn’t have a choice. There weren’t any closer spots available on the street.
I lock the car behind me and stuff my keys back into my pocket.
The hot sun beats down on me as I walk back to the diner. The coffee hasn’t kicked in yet. My body is so tired I’m afraid if I stop moving, I might fall asleep.
As I near the diner, I notice someone with dark hair out front.
It’s Emma.
I speed up, my walk turning into a jog, and the closer I get the more I can see she’s upset.
Her arms are wrapped around her waist like she’s trying to comfort herself. When she locks eyes with me, my heart sinks to the ground.
She’s crying.
Her eyes are rimmed red and tears fall down her cheeks.
I slow in front of her. “What’s wrong?”
She swallows, lip trembling. “Where did you go?”
“They asked me to move my car,” I say, completely consumed by the hurt on her face.
“Do you realize what I thought when I came out here and your car was gone?” She wipes the tears away with her arm, but they come back instantly.
I’ve never seen her this upset, and it makes me ill.
I stand there, numb, not knowing how to make her feel better. She thought I’d left her. How could she not? The second she wasn’t looking I disappeared.
She steps closer, pushing my shoulder. “You said you wouldn’t leave my sight,” she cries, voice cracking.
Her tears twist a knife of guilt into my chest, because I know I caused them. I told her I wouldn’t do anything to Mallory, but my words aren’t enough. Not after what she’s seen.
I need to do something to prove to her she can believe me, but my words are clogged in my throat.
“I thought you . . .” Her lips wobble as she refuses to finish the sentence.
“Hold my hand,” I say, thinking back to all the times she asked to hold my hand while we were growing up.
Her wet eyes stare at my hand as it trembles in front of her, but she’s frozen.
I take hers instead, folding her fingers around my hand. “If you hold on to me, I can’t go anywhere without you.”
I wait for her to say something. Anything. I’d settle for her grasping my hand with the slightest touch—
She inches closer in a sudden move that’s somehow in slow motion and rests her head on my shoulder.
I’m not used to Emma being so timid. Her actions are always so head-on and determined. Maybe that’s why a nervous sensation ripples down my spine.
I breathe slowly, heart spiking as her hands wrap around my waist. I know in an instant, I’m not over her because I don’t want her to move. I want to keep her this close. I want to protect her from ever getting hurt again.
I can’t change what she saw, but I will stop it from repeating.
My arms wrap around her, holding her tightly. “I won’t leave you.”
“Promise?”
I step back enough to see her face, her red cheeks and puffy eyes. I brush away her tears, hand lingering. “I swear.”
She nods, but that’s not enough. I need her to believe me beyond a doubt.
“Look at me. Am I lying?”
Her eyes roam over me until they meet my gaze. “No.”
“It’s going to be okay.”
She takes a deep breath. “Okay.”
I stare at her wet eyes, and my heart aches, desperate to make her feel better. “Can we forget the last few years? Just for today?”
She bites her lip. “I don’t know how.”
“Let’s try,” I say. “Let’s pretend we’re just hanging out like old times.”
“Why do you want to do that?”
“Because I miss you.”
She hesitates, staring at me as she thinks. I can only imagine what’s going through her mind. But then she nods. “Okay. Just for today.”
A smile pulls at my lips.
I grab her hand again, encasing it in mine. “Let’s go back inside.”
I’ve held her hand a million times before, but this isn't the same as us holding hands as kids. It’s not playful. My hand is hyper-aware of hers like there’s lightning shooting up my arm, and at the same time I don’t want to let go.
It’s a feeling I want to get used to again, and I try not to focus on the unknown. I can’t help but remember how this Emma doesn’t belong here, which makes me nervous. I’m afraid she’ll disappear into thin air when I’m not looking.
I hold on to her tighter because I just got her back. I don’t want to lose her again, not when we’ve made more progress in mere hours than we have in years.
I don’t know what tomorrow holds. All I know is I have her today, and I’m not going to waste it. I’m going to treat today like it’s the only day we have together.
Because what if it is?
After we finish eating, we head back to the car, and once again we’re stuck trying to figure out what to do. We still have all day. It’s not even nine o’clock yet.
“I chose the diner. Now it’s your turn to pick,” I say.
She scratches her head. “I have no idea.”
“I don’t believe that. You’re Emma Adler, for heaven’s sake. You had ideas from the second you were born.”
She smiles in a shy way. “I don’t know about that.”
“It’s true,” I say. “Close your eyes and tell me the first thing that pops into your mind.”
She slams her eyes shut and pinches her lips together as she thinks.
It’s a glimpse of her old self and how playful she was.
“I know,” she says.
“Oh, you do?”
A coy smirk coats her face. “Yeah.”
“Should I be worried?”
She pats the air. “Nah, you’ll be fine.”
I suck in a breath. “I don’t know. I think you’re a little too excited about whatever you chose.”
She sits up straighter and shakes her head. “It’s going to be fun.”
“Where to?”
She pulls out her phone and starts searching the map. When she finally finds what she’s looking for, she shows me the address. “I want to go to this thrift store.”
“A thrift store?” I can’t begin to guess what she’s doing, but I’m not about to argue when she seems this happy about it.
“Oh, yeah.” She bites at her smile and the sparkle that’s been missing in her eyes makes a reappearance.
I put the car in drive and then reach for her hand. For the briefest second I’m afraid she won’t let me hold hers again, but she doesn’t pull away. She lets it be like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
She gives me directions as I drive until we make it to a large thrift store a few blocks away.
As we walk in, we’re greeted by white fluorescent lights, colorful mismatched rows of clothes, and random household items.
I lean closer, whispering in her ear. “Are you going to tell me why we’re here?”
Her grin widens and she pulls me toward the clothes. “We’re going to play thrift roulette.”
She says it like I should know what that is, but I’ve never heard of it.
We head to the men’s section where there are tons of shirts on either side, and when we reach the end of the row, she stops me. “Stand here.”
I do as I’m told.
She’s practically bouncing up and down from excitement. “I’ve wanted to do this forever, but Mallory refused.”
“Okay, now I am worried.”
She laughs. “It’ll be worth it.”
It already is. She’s laughing and smiling. My heart flutters at how her smile makes the hint of a dimple form on her left cheek. I find myself gazing at the long lashes that frame her eyes, and in an instant I’m reminded of how much I’ve missed looking at her face.
“Put your hand here,” she says, setting it on the shirt closest to me. Then she runs to the other end of the aisle. “Now, close your eyes and start walking. When I tell you to stop, you have to grab whatever shirt your hand is on.”
“Oh boy,” I say, noticing the broad options ahead of me. There’s everything from simple button-downs to shirts that look like they belong on a tropical vacation. Knowing Emma, she’s going to try and make the most ridiculous outfit possible.
“Close your eyes,” Emma calls from the other side.
I close them.
“Okay,” she says, laughing. “Start walking.”
I step forward, running my hand along the shirts as I walk toward her.
“Keep going. Keep going. Okay, now stop,” she says.
I crack my eyes open slowly, preparing for the worst.
My hand is touching a fluorescent pink shirt with a deep V-neckline.
It isn’t something I’d normally wear, but it’s better than the fringe tie-dye shirt farther down the aisle.
Emma squeals, running up to me. She pulls the shirt out, holding it up to get a better look. Turning, she pushes it against my body. “It’s perfect.”
“You think so? It’s a lot of pink.”
She smooths it out. “It’s the perfect amount of pink.” She tucks it under her arm and grabs my hand, pulling me to another row of clothes. “Now we need to find your pants.”
We’re practically jogging through the store, but she’s right. It is fun to do something like this where nothing else matters. It’s just us, making each other laugh.
She positions me again at the edge of the pants and moves to the other side of the aisle.
There are so many pairs of jeans, I’m positive I’ll land on one. There are only a handful of other colors mixed in, so the odds are in my favor this time.
I close my eyes, waiting for Emma’s instructions.
“You can start whenever you’re ready,” she says.
I walk quicker this time, trying to make it harder for her to anticipate what I’ll touch.
“Stop,” she says.
I skid to a halt, fully expecting to see my fingers against denim when I open my eyes. “No.”
Emma gasps. “Yes.”
Beneath my hand is a pair of leopard-print skinny jeans. How in the world did I end up with the most ridiculous pair of pants in the row?
“You’re not really going to make me wear these?”
“Of course I am.” She doesn’t even try to hide her smile as she pulls the hanger off the rack. “This outfit is beautiful. It's like a work of art.”
I rock my jaw, fighting back a laugh. “Well, you know what? It’s your turn now.” I take my awful outfit from her and lead her to the women’s clothing side of the store. “Prepare yourself because if I have to wear this, I’ll make sure you have something just as hideous to match.”
But she isn’t worried at all. She stands at the end of the aisle in a ready stance, hand touching the first shirt like she’s been waiting for this moment her entire life.
“Ready, set—no cheating. Back up.”
She frowns, inching back. “You’re so slow—”
“Go.”
She starts sprinting toward me, laughing. Her hand glides over an array of turtlenecks and sequin T’s, but she’s coming up to me so quickly I don’t have time to be strategic.
“Stop.”
Her feet skid to a stop and she opens her eyes immediately, not timid like I was. She pulls the shirt off the rack and holds it out in front of her.
The shirt is a deep blue color with white daisies all over it.
Emma frowns. “I was hoping for something a little more strange.”
“Don’t worry. Once you’re in it, it’ll look strange.”
Her jaw falls and she tries to swat me with her hand.
I duck, laughing.
“Do you want to make it out of here alive?” She narrows her eyes, holding her hand up in a fist.
I grab her fist and pull her behind me. “Let’s go see if we can find you some strange pants.”
“You better deliver this time.”
“I’ll try my best.”
She stands at the end of the aisle in the same position as before and this time she lands on a pair of sage bell-bottoms with a fringe hem.
“Now, these are good,” she says, inspecting the gold stitching around the pockets.
“You’re welcome,” I say.
She gives me a goofy grin in response. “Let’s go try them on.”
I toss my head back, groaning. “I can’t believe you’re going to make me wear this.” I hold up my outfit again.
“It’ll look cute.”
“Me or the outfit?”
Her smile dissolves, leaving pure shock and pink cheeks.
I bite my cheek, surprised the words came out of my mouth. It’s like I’ve completely lost my filter.
Our gazes break, both of us looking at the floor.