Page 78 of The Summer of ’98

“Sorry, Mom,” I said, not bothering to deny it. “I’ll clean it up. How was the conference thing?”

“It was fine,” she said. “Just the usual. Where’s Dad?”

“He went to help Joe with his new deck or something,” I shrugged, recalling what Dad had told us about helping his friend earlier this morning. I stood to clean up the food.

Mom intercepted me before I could crouch down and begin cleaning up. “Sweetheart, I know that you miss her but—”

“I don’t just miss her, Mom.” I sighed with frustration because I felt like no one understood. “I’m worried. I’m worried about her. I don’t know how she is. I don’t know how she’s coping. I fucking hate this. I want to go there.”

“I know,” she said, “But I don’t think that it’s a good idea to just show up. Give her some time. She’ll get in touch.”

“She might not,” I snapped with immediate regret when Mom flinched. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . She might not get in touch. What if she’s unwell? Or she never made it home? What if something terrible happened?”

Mom tilted her head, empathy in her stare. “I think that her mother would have been in touch with us if she hadn’t made it home. Perhaps they just need some time alone to get through what’s happened. Relax, okay?”

It was easy for her to tell me to relax. She didn’t understand how hard it was to not hear a single word from the woman that I loved. Things had been perfect one minute and the next she was on a plane and she was gone. It was hard to accept. It was hard to be okay with her sudden departure. I wanted her back with me. I wanted to know that she was safe.

Mom left me alone to clean up the mess, letting me know that she would be lying down if I needed her. What I needed was to clear my head. A walk or a run. I needed an outlet, and no one would practice football on a Saturday. So a solo jog would have to do. I finished sweeping up the bits of broken plastic when the door rattled open and closed, Cass calling out a greeting soon after.

“Hey,” she smiled and leaned against the doorframe with folded arms as I closed the trash can lid. “Noah around?”

“Upstairs,” I said.

She looked as though she was going to spin around and take off. But she paused and fixed me with a stare that was full of sympathy. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Cass. Thanks.”

She pursed her lips, not looking convinced. “Noah and I are going to the movies tonight. Want to come?”

“No,” I said without hesitation. The last thing that I would want to do is third wheel a date with those two. It sounded like a nightmare.

She laughed but seemed to understand as she nodded and twisted on her heel, leaving me alone again. Which is what I’d wanted—a bit of space to get my thoughts together. Truthfully, I wouldn’t have minded forgetting altogether. I hadn’t been this torn up over something in a long time and I hated it. But I hated getting blackout drunk more. So, substance wasn’t an option.

Sorrowful thoughts and a depressive mood lingered and wrapped around me while I pulled my shoes on at the door. It had been a long two weeks. A hard two weeks that were miserable in comparison to the time that I’d spent with the beautiful girl who had done a disappearing act on me. Despite not wanting her to get rid of the child, I supported her and was going to do whatever she needed of me. Things were right when she left. It just . . . it didn’t make sense.

I pulled the door open and felt my stomach flip. There she stood in front of me. A sundress flowing from her figure, her soft blond waves loose around her shoulders. She looked tired, perhaps upset, but she looked beautiful. “Ellie?”

“Hi, L—”

Her words were cut off when I pulled her into my arms and held her, hoping that this was real. The scent of her fruity shampoo filled me with relief, giving me affirmation that she was really back and I wasn’t imagining it. When I cupped her face and leaned back so that I could get a good look at her, I stilled, my thumb pausing mid-stroke against her freckled cheek.

“What the hell happened to your face?” I took her chin in my hand, turning her head to the side so that I could get a better view of the red abrasion that had swelled her cheek. She became flustered and I felt immediate aggression toward whoever the fuck put their hands on her. “Who did that?”

“Can I come in?”

I reached down and took her suitcase before ushering her inside. Her sweet scent fanned me as she brushed past and my chest tightened, my need to be near her was stronger than ever.

Before she could move even a mere few feet, I gripped her waist and pulled her toward me again, taking a handful of those soft curls as I cradled her head and kissed her. It was like being able to breathe again. The weight lifted from me, my head felt clearer, and I sighed in relief as she kissed me back with equal need. I was scared that something had changed between us. But she ran her fingers into my hair and pushed her entire frame against me, her tongue moving fast with mine.

I could have stayed like that for the longest time. I could have kept kissing her, holding her, feeling her, never letting her go again. But her soft sob and damp cheeks caused me to break apart and I became alarmed to see that she was crying, tears running down her face.

“Ellie,” I cupped either side of her neck, my thumbs stroking circles on her jaw. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t deserve you,” she stared up at me. “I don’t. Leroy, I’m so sorry—”

“Stop, Ellie, stop.” I attempted to calm her down as I swung the door shut. We didn’t need an audience, so I quickly led her upstairs and closed my bedroom door. She was still shaking with sobs and my heart ached at how distraught she looked. “Talk to me, baby, what’s going on?”

She inhaled a shaking breath and wiped under her eyes. “You don’t even seem mad that I disappeared for two weeks.”

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