Never Just Friends Box Set

Prologue

Roo

Five Years Ago

Tanner whistles to the radio as he turns his truck into our school’s parking lot. His face is golden, like sunshine, and he radiates the warmth to match. He’s the kind of person who’s so fundamentally optimistic, I swear nothing can dint his armor.

But with the conversation I’ve been stewing over all night, I’m sure as hell going to put it to the test.

“You didn’t come over last night,” he says. “Were you feeling okay?”

No. I swear I’m never okay these days. The seizures have ramped up to the point where I’m struggling to keep fighting this horrible darkness that’s edging in. For Tanner and my parents’ sake, I act like they barely faze me, but fuck, I’m exhausted.

And the solution Mom came up with …

Epilepsy surgery is always a last resort. And I’m very worried we’ve reached that point.

“Actually, it was kind of a big night.”

He pulls smoothly into a parking space and turns to look at me. “Everything okay, Roo?”

Normally his nickname for me makes me smile.

When my parents and I moved here from Australia to be closer to Dad’s family, I’d had a thick Australian accent, which Tanner found hilarious, so instead of Royce I became Roo.

He doesn’t let anyone else call me that.

But now it reminds me of the conversation last night, and my heart grows heavy.

“Umm … maybe not.” I swallow the lump in my throat, determined to get through this without crying. “Mom wants to move back to Australia.”

The light in my best friend’s face immediately dims. “W-what?”

I can’t meet his eyes.

“But … you’re almost eighteen. You could stay if you wanted to. We’ve always talked about getting a place together and …”

It’s like he’s run out of words. They never were his strong suit.

I look up, and he finally seems to get it. “They’re moving back for you, aren’t they?”

“Yes. Mom went on about wanting to see her family and a whole bunch of other stuff, but what it comes down to is that it’ll be way cheaper for the surgery, and she’s already been talking to this specialist who’s apparently one of the best in the world—”

I clamp my mouth shut because I’m rambling and don’t want to tell him the other reason. The real reason I didn’t make it to his house last night, when I normally sneak over there every chance I get.

Mom’s concerned. Not only about the seizures, but about how reliant I am on him. Codependent, she calls us. And maybe she’s right, because the sheer panic that hit me over moving was directly related to leaving him.

I didn’t give two fucks about leaving Sunbury—I hate it here. But Tanner … It’s painful to think about.

“One of the best? Good. Yeah.” When his brown eyes meet mine, they’re so full of … well, something that always knocks my heart off-balance. “When do you leave?”

That’s the fun part. The part that really sent me into a spin. With me seizing out every other day, they want the surgery to happen as soon as possible. “Right after graduation.”

“Two weeks?” His voice hitches with the same panic I’ve been feeling, and just when I think he’s going to start demanding that I stay, when I think he’s going to tell me we’ll sort something out, here, in America, he takes a breath … and nods instead. “Good.”

Good?

My heart sinks through my gut.

I’ve spent the last twelve hours physically sick at the thought of leaving, and he’s arrived at good.

Mom was wrong. There’s nothing codependent happening here. Nope. Just dependent.

And as much as I hate to agree with her, Tanner’s eighteen. He shouldn’t be responsible for looking after me when I can’t do it myself. Maybe we really do need time apart.

I lick my suddenly dry lips. “Yeah, good.”

He pats my thigh and throws open the door to his truck, optimism firmly back in place. “Come on or we’ll be late for class.”

I can barely bring myself to move. Who the fuck cares about class?

He didn’t ask how long I’d be gone for.

He didn’t demand to come.

He didn’t react the way I’d been expecting at all, and now all I can think as he walks me to class is, How did I misjudge our friendship so badly?

At the classroom door, he gives me the usual side hug and kiss on the head, reminding me to text him if I start feeling off. Then he walks away, apparently completely unaffected that seven years of friendship are about to come to an end.