Page 100 of Holding On

He hesitates, then sighs. "University of Chicago."

She breaks down crying. I don't get it. Why would the mention of that school make her cry?

"Becca." I reach up and rub her shoulder. I want to comfort her but it's awkward with her brother here. He had his eye on me all through brunch, like he wanted to punch me for dating his sister.

She continues to quietly cry, turning her head toward the side window so I can't see her.

We stop at an intersection and Mike looks back at me. "She wanted to go to the University of Chicago. She was accepted but our dad couldn't afford it."

Shit. I didn't know that. She never mentioned it. She seemed happy about her decision to go to community college, but I guess that was just Becca trying to stay positive, like she always does.

"I'm sorry, Becca," I say, leaning forward toward her seat.

She just nods, sniffling.

"I need to know where you live," Mike says to me.

I don't want him to drop me off. I don't want to leave Becca like this.

"Hey." I gently squeeze her shoulder. "Do you want me to stay? Or you could come to my place."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Mike says, glancing at me in the rear view mirror.

"Becca," I say, ignoring Mike.

She turns toward me and wipes her eyes. I hate seeing her hurting like this. I want to hold her in my arms until she feels better.

She sniffles. "Okay."

"Okay, what?" Mike asks, looking at her.

"I'm going to Ethan's house," she tells him. "Drive home and then I'll take the van."

"Becca, we need to talk," he says.

"Why? What's there to say? Mom has a new family. New kids. That was her choice. There's nothing we can do about that."

"That doesn't mean we shouldn't talk about it."

"I'm done talking about her. If you want to keep seeing her and talking to her, that's up to you, but I'm done. Today was the last straw. I can't do this anymore."

He doesn't respond, his eyes on the road as he turns into their apartment building. He pulls up to the front and puts the van in park, leaving the engine running. He looks at Becca. "Call me later."

"I will." She waits for him to get out, then moves to the driver's side and takes off just as I was about to open the door.

"I was going to get in front," I say, sitting back in my seat.

"Oh." She lets a laugh. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking. Just pretend I'm your cabbie."

"You're a damn hot cabbie. Usually I get fat, bald guys who haven't showered in days."

She laughs again. It's good to hear her laugh. That's the Becca I know. The sweet, happy girl who brightens my day the moment I see her. Even just thinking about her lightens the dark moods I find myself in when I'm stuck alone in that house, feeling lost and unsure of myself.

When we reach my house, she opens the van door and I step out with my crutches. We go inside and she kisses me before we can even make it to the couch. She pulls me closer, pressing her body against mine. It's clear what she wants, but doing that now, when she's sad and vulnerable, doesn't feel right.

In the past, that wouldn't have mattered to me. Sex is sex and if a girl is willing and ready, there's no way I'd tell her no. But with Becca it's different. I don't want her doing this as a way to escape her feelings about what happened. When we're together, I want it to be about us, and only us, which means I need to tell her no.

I can't believe I'm about to do this. I've never once turned down sex. But it's the right thing to do. For Becca. The girl I've fallen hard for in just a few short weeks. The girl I'm starting to love.

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