Page 37 of The Road to Finding Us

“Because I was trying to sleep. I like to sleep in the dark like most people, Lily.”

“It’s barely even dark outside,” I point out, leaning down to rub my aching toe.

“Well, I was tired. Play on your phone if you aren’t.”

I know he can’t see me, so I make a face at him, finding it oddly therapeutic.

“Cute,” he chastises, my eyes widening when I realize he somehow saw that.

The man must have laser vision, because it’s dark as hell in this room, only a tiny window letting a small amount of moonlight in.

I roll my eyes, feeling around to search for my bag. Once I find it, I take it out into the hallway and scan the place until I find the bathroom. I get showered up and change into my pajamas. Once I’m ready for bed, at this outrageously early time, I open the door to the room I’m sharing with Aspen.

After setting my bag down, I begin the journey of finding the bed in the dark. I feel around the bottom bunk until my hand meets a very firm—and very warm—abdomen.

I snatch my hand back. “You could’ve told me you took the bottom,” I hiss before climbing up the ladder.

“What would be the fun in that?” He chuckles and I reach down and smack the first thing my hand connects with, which I gladly realize is his face. He hisses and now I’m the one chuckling.

I toss and turn until I finally get comfortable a few minutes later.

“Hey, Lily?” Aspen whispers.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.” The second word is barely audible, but I still catch it.

I stare at the ceiling and ask, “For what?”

“For everything.” He’s still talking softly, but there’s no joking or arrogant tone attached to his words.

He creeps me out when he’s sincere. It does weird things to my body. And I won’t even begin to address the things it does to my traitorous heart. “I don’t know what that means,” I confess.

“It means I’m sorry. For all of it. Everything that happened with us. I think about it sometimes and I just…I just want you to know that I’m sorry.” He talks so fast, as if he can’t get it off his chest quick enough.

After he finishes, I let his words marinate in my head before I give him a response. There are many things in our past he could be sorry for, most of all breaking my heart. But I wasn’t completely innocent in everything, either. We were just two people who shouldn’t have been attracted to each other.

I picture him lying underneath me, staring up like I am. He probably has one arm propped behind his head, his ankles crossed underneath the blanket. That’s how he used to relax when we watched movies in college.

“Do you ever wonder if things could’ve been different?” I ask him.

“Honestly?” he says. “I think about it all the time. All the damn time, Lily. It feels like there’s never a time I’m not thinking about it. It’s fucked up.”

My heart plummets at his admission. What does it mean? I’m trying to read behind the lines here. With Aspen, it’s something I’ve had to learn to do.

“Do you?” he hesitantly asks.

“Honestly?” I repeat.

“Please,” he responds.

“Yes. More often than I’ll ever admit.”

“Lily,” Aspen begins, and I hear him stir below me.

“I don’t think there’s any point in talking about what-ifs. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” I say.

“What if I want to talk about what-ifs?” he counters.

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