Page 71 of Letting it Ride

I’m willing to give it time, to slow down. But under Maddox’s glare, I’m starting to second guess everything. He’s her brother, after all. Who am I to think I know what’s best for Addie? I love her. But he’s the one who’s known her almost her whole life. Maybe there’s something he knows that I don’t.

Suddenly, everything I felt that day, back when Ellie dropped her bomb on me, pales in comparison to how I feel now. My heart didn’t break with Ellie, not really.

But if I give up Addie, it’s going to shatter.

“Walk away, Cam. Trust me. It’s what’s best,” Maddox says, and all I can do is nod.

Because I’ll do anything for Addie. Even walk away, if that’s what she needs.

Everything inside me is cold and dark as I think of my life without her in it. She lights up a room, and I’ve already gotten used to her lighting up my life. I’ll call her, see what else she has going on, see if there’s a way we can make this work.

Together, as a team. And if there’s something that we can’t get past, at least I’ll know what it is.

I’m going over this plan in my head when Maddox picks up my phone—my brand-new phone, the one I programmed Addie’s number into first when I got it—from where it was sitting on the coffee table, next to my half-empty soda can, and holds it out to me. “Do it now.”

27

ADDISON

To:[email protected]

From:[email protected]

Subject:Re: Senior class advisor

Hi Ms. Anderson,

Thanks so much for agreeing to take this on. The students will be thrilled. Prom committee meets every Thursday after school until 3:30. The next meeting is this upcoming week after the students return from their spring break. I’ll forward you the rest of the meeting schedule.

Patricia Smith

Vice Principal, Bryn MawrHigh School

Agreeing to be the advisor for the senior class was a mistake of gargantuan proportions, as my dad used to say. I press my fingers to the spot between my eyes, trying to stave off the impending headache.

The prom committee, which I apparently now also advise as part of these duties, is split right down the middle. Half of them want a theme to prom, like an old-school Under the Sea or 1990s or something. The other half want no theme at all. They’ve been arguing this point for the last forty-three minutes. I should have listened to Annika and just said no. I wonder if there’s a non-confrontational way out of this.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, just grateful to have something to focus on other than the adolescent squabbling.

Cam

I think we need to talk about what we’re doing, see if it’s the right thing to pursue this relationship. I promise I just want what’s best for you.

What? My stomach bottoms out, and I reread the message as my hands start to shake. No. This isn’tright, is it? Cam was more certain than I was about all of this. And now I get this message? It’s not a breakup, but it’s damn close.

My entire body starts to vibrate with anger, and I read the message again. Oh, he wants what’s best for me, does he? And that’s why he’s questioning our relationship?

When I was younger, my family teased me so much about theHurricane Addiething that I tried everything to keep my temper under wraps, which was the reason for the hurricanes in the first place. Trying to hold my emotions in so I’d be pleasant, happy Addie all the time made it so that when things bubbled up, they exploded, all that pent-up frustration needing somewhere to go.

And maybe as an adult, I should be better at controlling my temper. But I’mpissed.This text is a complete 180 from the last time we were together. We were talking about being serious, about the future, all of that. I was holding back some of my real feelings, things I think it’s too early to feel.

And now this. Adding anger to the mix of emotions I’ve been holding onto is bringing things to a point of no return. My fingers start to tingle where they’re holding the phone.

Something happened to make him question thingslike this. Cam didn’t come up with this on his own. And I’m tired of people in my life thinking they know what’s best for me. I may be the baby of the family, but I’m a goddamn adult. I know what I need. And what I want.

And I’m going to go get it.

I stand up so abruptly that the folding chair nearly falls over. “I need to cut this short, guys. Think of ways to compromise for our meeting next week.” A couple of the students start to whine, and I cut them off with a look I know they’ve never seen from me, but they should probably familiarize themselves with. “If there’s no compromise, there’s no prom. Good luck.”

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