Page 99 of Near Miss

“You told your sister the whole truth then?”

She nods, fingers feathering against my jaw. “I did. Because of you. She had a lot of thoughts about it. Nice thoughts. Kind thoughts. She had thoughts about other things, too.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, voice heavy. “What were those?”

Greer blinks at me, thumbs swiping up the line of stubble cutting across my cheek before she turns and settles against my chest, murmuring, “Things I’m not sure what to do with yet.”

“Thank you.” I swallow, pressing my mouth to the crown of her head. “For seeing me. For whatever you said to make my brother and sister tell me they see me, too. It was nice, to be with them like that. Another thing I owe you for. One day I’ll work up the courage to draw a line in the sand with my parents, but—”

“One day,” she finishes.

I clear my throat, jerking my head towards her empty glass. “Do you want another? I’ll go get you one.”

“No,” she says simply, dropping the back of her head to my shoulder. “I want you to stay here.”

I want to stay here, too, I think.

And I wish we could forever.

Greer

Healing might not suddenly click into place.

But I think other things do sometimes.

It happens when Beckett tips his head back and smiles—a real one. Not the grin he parades around and pulls out like a party trick because he thinks he needs to please people for them to love him the way he deserves.

Waves of unruly chocolate hair curl against the nape of his neck, his stubble draws a shadow across his jaw, and the sunlight hits his eyes. Emeralds, both of them.

Not diamonds or gold, but maybe something rarer entirely.

He’s beautiful when he’s free.

“You should smile more,” I whisper.

He shrugs a shoulder, all of him turning lazy when he leans back and plants his hands on the wood of the dock. “I get paid to smile. I should have been a model.”

“That’s not what I mean.” I sit forward, and I think the wine has made the edges of my mind a little fuzzy. Maybe his, too,because he looks like nothing has ever hurt him and he’s never felt the weight of it all a day in his life.

I take my index finger and place it in the curve of his full bottom lip before tracing the edge of it.

He says nothing, but I see the muscles in his neck tense in a swallow.

I pull my hand back and place it against my chest, like maybe I’ll be able to feel that smile in my heart.

He blinks, and I think, if it was possible, his eyes might flay me open. If heaven were real, they’re the green rolling hills you’d see when you get there, and you’d be happy you died.

His voice is rough—throaty like it only is when we’re alone together. “Do it again.”

I do, and that’s when I hear it.

Oh,my heart whispers. You love him, this boy with the heavy shoulders and wonderful smile.

Greer

The realization I’m in love with him doesn’t come with these crashing cymbals signaling the start of a symphony like the other night in the bath.

But my world quiets down.

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