Page 48 of Summer After Summer

“Olivia.”

I push myself away from him, steadier on my feet. I meet his eyes and they’re sad, but not as sad as me. “I heard you, Fred, and I understand what you’re saying, but I’m not okay with this. I don’t have any doubts. I know we can work this out, and I want to do all those things we talked about. All the six months and next year and in five years … I meant all of that.”

“I meant it too.”

I feel a burst of anger. “No, you didn’t. Because if you did, then you wouldn’t be doing this right now. We’d be talking about how to figure it out. Not how to say goodbye.”

“Olivia, I—”

He reaches for me, but I duck away and rush out of the room.

My leg is killing me, and I can feel the gash opening again, but I don’t care. I need to get out of here and I’m not going to sit in a car with him, not even for one minute.

“Olivia. Olivia—please stop.”

I get outside and pick up my bike. I step over it, getting it in position between my legs. It’s only a couple of miles. I can make it home. I must.

“Olivia.” Fred puts his hands on the handlebar and steadies it. “Olivia.”

“What?”

“I don’t want it to end like this.”

“Me either, but it is.”

“I want everything I said I did.”

“Just not now.”

“Maybe we can … in a couple of months …”

“No,” I say. “I can’t do that. I can’t be the girl waiting to see if you want to be with me. My heart can’t take it.”

His hand tightens on my handlebar. “I understand.”

“So, goodbye, I guess.” I put my feet on the pedals. “I hope your uncle is okay.”

“Thank you.”

I wait for him to release me, but he doesn’t. “You need to let go.”

“I don’t want to.”

And now the tears are making my vision blurry. “You already did, though.”

His face creases with hurt. “Maybe, in five years …”

“That doesn’t work now.”

“Why not?”

“Because that was us together the whole time. Now it’s just going to be five years later with no together in between. It’ll be five years lost.”

He taps the top of the handlebars. “Okay, then. Five years later. I’ll be here.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can.”

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