Page 59 of Every Broken Thing

“Maybe next time,” she said diplomatically, and I shrugged.

“Okay.” I leaned in between the front seats and pecked her cheek. “See you later.”

I turned to Ronnie to thank him for driving me home, but he held up a hand. “You don’t need to kiss me.”

“Rude.”

I climbed out of the car and waved as Ronnie backed out of the driveway. Ronnie honked twice before driving off, and I forced my heavy feet up the porch steps as I promised myself to never again go Black Friday shopping.

“How was shopping?” Will asked the moment I stumbled over the threshold.

“Horrendous. Thanks for asking.”

“Drama queen.”

I didn’t deign to respond, bending down to loosen my boots.

“Hey, can we talk a sec?” He rose from the couch, and I straightened without removing my shoe.

“Uh, that’s ominous.”

“It’s kind of important.”

I imagined my soft, warm bed. “Ugh, fine. What’s up?”

Shifting his weight, Will checked over his shoulder, like he was making sure no one was listening. “How about we take a walk?”

Genuine worry made my stomach cramp. “Okay, now you’re freaking me out.”

“It’s not bad. Or, well, just…” He gestured toward the door. “I don’t want Dad to hear.”

Redonning my jacket, I walked back out onto the porch and waited for Will. He joined me thirty seconds later, ducking his head into the hoodie I’d borrowed back in October, the first day I went back to school after…

I shook that train of thought loose and clomped down the porch steps. Will fell into step beside me, and we walked down the sidewalk as stray flurries drifted on the breeze around us. My breath steamed in front of my mouth, and I reached out to catch a snowflake in my palm. It melted upon impact. It wouldn’t stick, not this time. But snow would come to stay soon enough.

“So, uh, what’s up?” I asked after we’d walked for several minutes in pregnant silence.

The park at the end of our street came into view, and Will released a sharp exhale through his nose. “Jesus, this place hasn’t changed a bit.”

“You haven’t been gone that long,” I said as we came to a stop at the edge of the mulch.

“It feels like it sometimes.”

With winter around the corner, the park was deserted, but my mind replayed memories of playing here with Will when we were kids. I could still picture our mother sitting at the picnic tables reading a book as my brother and I ran around playing pirate ship and knights.I broke my arm when I was eight, falling from the monkey bars, and Will had bragged once about receiving his first blowjob underneath the wooden castle structure. And itwas in the far-right tower where I’d confessed I was gay to our mother.

Yeah, there were too many memories here.

And like Will could read my mind, he said, “Mom called me.”

I blinked, positive that I’d misheard him. “I’m sorry, what?”

Will clenched his jaw, his hands still buried in his pockets as he scuffed the ground with his foot. “Mom called me.”

The echo hit me like a buckshot, shredding through my torso like it was tissue paper. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Mom called me on my phone, and I talked to her.”

I rounded on him. “When? How?”

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