Page 146 of Falling

The table erupts in laughter, and my mom shakes her head. “I remember that. You were convinced that if you just got it cold enough, it would turn into ice. We had to explain the concept of freezing temperatures to you.”

My dad chimes in, grinning. “And don’t forget the part where you tried to recruit Clara to help you carry buckets of water from the kitchen sink. She was just as determined as you were.”

Clara rolls her eyes. “Yeah, because I thought it was a brilliant plan. We were going to have the best backyard rink in the neighborhood.”

Kennedy and Scarlett are laughing so hard they’re nearly in tears. Kennedy wipes her eyes and says, “I wish I could’ve seen that. It sounds like something out of a movie.”

Wren nods. “Definitely. Little Miles, future hockey star, flooding the backyard.”

I shake my head, chuckling. “Alright, enough about my childhood disasters. How about we talk about something else?”

Wren squeezes my hand, a warm smile on her lips. “I think it’sadorable. It shows how passionate you’ve always been about hockey.”

Clara isn’t done yet though. “Oh, and what about the time you tried to make your own goalie pads out of couch cushions and duct tape? You looked like a marshmallow man.”

Everyone bursts into laughter again, and I can’t help but join in. “Those were innovative. I was ahead of my time.”

My dad chuckles. “You were always resourceful, I’ll give you that. And look where it got you. Conference champion.”

The mention of the championship brings a proud silence to the table, everyone reflecting on the journey we’ve been on. I look around at my family and friends, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

There’s no place I’d rather be right now.

WREN

Seeing Miles this happy almost makes me want to cry.

From the annoying hockey hotshot who I met at the party, he’s grown on me. He’s still annoying, but my heart yearns for him sometimes. It feels pathetic when I think about it. Even when I’m with him, like right now, basically sitting in his lap, I still want to be closer to him. If it was possible, I’d sew myself to him so we wouldn’t have to be apart.

Which is probably why I insist on driving back with him, holding his hand the entire time while Kennedy and Scarlett pretend to gag in the backseat. They’ve told me multiple times they feel “violent” when they look at us, and if it wasn’t me in the situation, I’d be grossed out too. I don’tlovePDA, but I love being close to Miles. I love it when he brushes his thumb against my hand when he’s driving before he lets go to hold the wheel. Or when he always guides me when we walk with his hand on my back. Or when he grabs my wrists and kisses them like it’s some sort of weird game we have.

I think— no, IknowI love him.

It’s a love that scares me, but not because I’m scared it will disappear. It scares me because of how much I want it to last, how much I’ve come to rely on it, how much it means to me. It’s the kind of love that changes everything, but not in the way I feared. It doesn’t tie me down or trap me; it lifts me up and makes me want to be better.

I used to think that love should have another word—something that carries the same weight but doesn't feel binding. But now I realize that love is supposed to be binding, in the best way possible. It’s a commitment, a promise to be there for each other, to grow together, to face the future as a team.

Miles has shown me a side of love I didn't believe in before—a love that is steady, supportive, and unwavering. It’s not just about the grand gestures or the fleeting moments of passion; it’s about the everyday acts of kindness, the constant presence, the feeling of being truly seen and understood.

I think about all the times he's been there for me, always ready with a reassuring word or a comforting embrace. I think about the way he looks at me with a mixture of admiration and tenderness that makes my heart swell. It's not just that he loves me; he respects me, cherishes me, and wants the best for me.

When we pull up outside my apartment, the girls go in first, and as Miles goes to open the door, I reach for him. He turns back to me, and I grip both of his cheeks, his eyes widening with surprise.

“You’re incredible. You know that, right?” I say, and I hate the way my voice shakes.

He grins. “I know.”

“I’m being serious. You’re genuinely the best person I’ve ever met.”

“You’re being nice to me. Are you sick?” he mumbles.

I roll my eyes, dropping my hands from his face. “No, you idiot, I just mean it.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He narrows his eyes at me.

“Does something have to be wrong for me to be nice to you?”

He shrugs. “No, but it’s scary. It’s our whole thing. You pretend to hate me; I pretend like I don’t care. You bully me; I let you. It’s our dynamic. When you’re nice to me, I get worried.”

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