Page 41 of Moving Forward

I place my head in my palms. Mom seems to have gone to the Miller School of Enthusiasm while I’ve been away, and Dad has become more protective and grumpier than Grandpa.

“Max’s friend,” Mom grins, pulling away and heading for the door.

“Mom!” I say quickly, just as Dad replies, “Friend?”

Mom turns around instantly, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, honey?”

I feel my shoulders roll forward as my mood sinks. What am I supposed to say? Mom, don’t freak out my friend. He isn’t around people very much. He just became more than just a friend. Nope, because all those statements will dash her hopes. Right now, she thinks I’m moving on with my life—which I am, but with someone who’s just as troubled as me. Mom and Dad want me to have something happy and simple.

They were just as heartbroken to lose Ethan. In losing Ethan, they lost a part of me. They lost that white-wedding-gown, two-story-house, twenty-million-children dream they had for my future.

She flings open the door just as Cain starts up the steps with my pillows in one arm and a luggage bag in the other. I really want to hold up an Approach with Caution sign and dance around with it until my mom gets the picture.

Grandpa grumbles as he walks past Cain with more luggage and a bag filled with all my toiletries. The glare he gives Cain as he passes makes me burn with anger. Grandpa doesn’t say anything as he ambles by. Evidently their alone time went well. I’ll probably have to ask Cain about that later, mortifying as that will be.

“Who is he?” my dad asks again, sounding both deflated and lost. My dad is probably the most adorable person in the world. He looks like an innocent little chipmunk when he gets confused. You kind of just want to hug him.

Cain sets the luggage and pillows on the concrete and steps forward, holding his hand out to shake my dad’s. “Cain, sir,” he answers roughly. Cain’s hand is shaking, and when he lets go of my dad’s his shoulders fall in relief. His hand disappears inside his pocket, and he tucks his scarred arm against his side to hide it.

“Cain,” he repeats. “And you’re a friend?”

Cain’s gaze meets mine and a shiver runs down my back. My knees go weak. I nod unconvincingly. Mom clearly catches this, because she smiles slyly as she places her hands on her hips, eyeing the two of us carefully. “Well, Cain, I’m Ophelia, and this is Andrew. We’re happy you’re joining us today.”

My dad, still oblivious, pats Cain on the shoulder on his way to the truck to grab more of my things. Mom remains where she is, taking Cain in. Finally, she blinks quickly and turns away, wiping her eyes. “Let’s get you settled.”

Her smile tells me I’m right to be happy.

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“Last box,” I sing, carrying in a box of books. I set it on the twin bed, next to the piles of luggage, and plop down beside everything. I haven’t been able to stop smiling since we started bringing things up to my room. Each time Cain passed me on the stairs, he would touch me—reach for my hand, kiss my cheek, squeeze my hip—leaving me about three seconds away from melting into a pile of girlie goo. If you tied a balloon to my ankle right now, I’d probably float right into outer space with it.

I glance at him and my mood wanes. He’s holding a picture and frowning at it. I want him to see me—the happy me that I am right now. But when people see who I was before Ethan died and who I am after, they always look at me like I’ve lost a chunk myself. They see that when I lost Ethan, I lost Max too.

I can’t let the little world I’ve already fallen in love with—grown comfortable with—come crashing down on me.

It’s a picture of Danny, Ethan, Ellie and I, held securely in a sand-textured frame that has a little fake starfish in the corner. We’re standing in front of the ocean on our last day of spring break, dressed in our bathing suits. Of course, Danny and I look like a pair of fire ants next to the twins’ rich tans. Ellie has her arms wrapped around Danny’s midsection, the two of them smiling at the camera. Ethan and I were supposed to have posed in a similar fashion, but at the last second, he’d given me a raspberry against my temple. When the camera flashed, I was giggling and flinching away from him as he tried to go in for another.

The picture feels like another person and another life. I can remember it happening, how I’d smacked at him while he laughed, but it’s fuzzy. That is what scares me the most—that I’ve spent so much time mourning, pushing away those memories, that I’m losing him. I’m losing the sound of his laugh, how it felt when he held me, and what it was like to kiss him. He’s fading away from me. Fast.

“You guys look good together,” Cain tells me.

“We were good together too,” I smile sadly.

“He really loved you,” he says, more to himself. He sighs and spins around to pull me against his chest, but he doesn’t put the picture down. He remains focused on it, still tense. “I really wish you still had him.”

I swallow. How do I answer that? Saying I feel the same way would diminish what I feel for Cain, and saying I’m happy I’m with Cain now would diminish what I had with Ethan. All I can do is rest my head against his chest and stare down at the picture with him.

Cain rests his free hand on my shoulder, rubbing his thumb across my bare skin. “Tell me about him.”

“Tell you . . .”

He nods and presses a soft kiss on the top of my head. “Yeah, Peaches. Tell me about him or this trip. Just tell me he made you happy. That the pain you’ve been in the past few years has been worth it. I can’t . . . shit. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be asking that of you.”

“You’re fine,” I say quietly. “I was happy with him. Happier than I thought I would ever be . . . especially with him, of all people. But I don’t know, I guess it just worked. We canceled each other out. Me as the studious goody-goody and him as, well,” I can’t help but laugh, thinking about his antics and his sense of humor, “Ethan.”

He sets the picture down and guides me to my bed. Once we’re settled, I lean my head on his shoulder. I start drawing little figures on his arm while he curls my hair around his fingers. “They used to have this little beach house in North Carolina.”

“I’ve been there a time or two,” Cain admits. “Erin and I used to sneak off to the beach house all the time.”

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