Page 46 of The Story Of Us

Then he does something I don’t expect - he reaches his hand into the space between us.

I stare at his upturned hand and then his face, and I can read the silent question in his eyes, can feel him imploring me to take his hand, to be his lifeline while he’s drowning.

So I do.

I place my hand in his, and his fingers tighten around mine, his other hand coming up to envelop it completely. I’ve missed this feeling so much. He leans his head down, pulling our joined hands up to his forehead like he’s praying.

“I’m so sorry, Violet.”

I can’t speak, emotion clogging my throat as I look at him, my hand completely covered with his as he keeps it pressed to his forehead. My shoulders drop, every ounce of energy leaving me as I lean my head forward closer to his.

We sit in silence for a while, only the sound of our breathing filling the room as we try to collect ourselves. Since we came back to school, the silence between us has felt heavy, full of broken promises and unsaid words, but this one is different. It feels like how it used to be when we were content to just be with one another as much as possible, even if we didn’t have anything to say.

“I know there’s still more to be said,” I tell him, my voice hoarse as I break the silence between us and lean back. He brings our joined hands back down into the space between us, looking at me with green eyes full of sadness, but there’s a tiny bit of hope in them, too. “But I don’t know if I can hear it today.”

Isaac nods, and I know he feels the same way, too. Every emotion feels raw, months of silence between us finally being broken and questions being asked and answered. But it’s too much to take in all at once. I need time to process what he’s said and figure out what it means for me, for us.

“I think so, too.” His voice is croaky, and he clears his throat as he looks down at our hands and starts running his thumb back and forth. I follow his gaze, the sight and feel of it so familiar to me that it stirs a warmth in my chest. I never thought this would happen again, but here we are.

I watch the way his thumbs move, goosebumps rising all over my body as that electrifying awareness comes back after being missing for so long. The gesture is so affectionate, and I have so many memories running through my mind of all the times he did it before—far too many to count, but all so distinct to me.

He could make it feel like we were having a whole conversation just by the way he touched my hands. And he’s doing that now. The way his thumb traces over the ridges of my knuckles feels like he’s asking me where we go from here.

“I don’t know…” My voice is soft, completely at odds with the way my heart is beating wildly in my chest. “I don’t know if we can go back to how we were.”

He nods his head, swallowing heavily, but he doesn’t let go of my hand.

“But I think we can start again,” I tell him, meaning it with everything I have. Even though I don’t know if I can completely forgive him, with so much still left unsaid, I know that I want him back in my life. “We can try being friends again.”

The way his face changes, the instant wash of relief that passes over it, and the shaky breath he lets out tells me it’s not what he expected to hear, even if he hoped it was.

“I’d like that. I missed having you as a friend. I missed you, Violet.”

I nod but don’t let myself say the words back to him just yet. He must notice but he doesn’t mention it.

I extract my hand from his, missing the comfort already, but I know if I stay here any longer, I might give him more than I should right now. Because while I do want to try being friends with him again, I don’t know if I’m ready for anything more.

Even if the voice in the back of my head is trying to convince me I am.

I collapse on my bed as soon as I get back to my room, not even sure how I had the energy to make it all the way here. All I want to do right now is talk to my mum, but she hasn’t been answering my calls, and her responses to my texts feel generic. This is the longest we’ve gone without speaking properly, and I hate it.

I knew she’d be upset when I told her I wanted to move away for university, but I hadn’t expected her to act like this. Every evening for the past few weeks, I’ve sent her a text to check in and let her know how I’m doing, and all I’ve gotten in return are short answers.

I pull out my phone to call her. It only rings for a few seconds before going to voicemail. A sigh escapes me, and then I’m calling Avery instead, who answers on the third ring.

“Are you busy?” I ask her, forcing myself to sit up.

“No, I’m just doing some homework. Are you good?”

“Yeah, I’ll be over in a second.”

“Okay, doors unlocked.”

We hang up, and I go to the bathroom to wash my face and put on some makeup to try and cover up the breakdown I just had.

Avery knows my mum hasn’t been speaking to me, so I want to ask for her advice on what to do because I don’t know how much longer I can go without her.

I let myself into Avery’s room like I usually do. She’s lying on her bed, phone held above her face as she types something. I lay down next to her on my side, and she drops her phone beside her before turning so we’re face to face.

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