Page 73 of Catch the Sun

Mom and I were also sentenced to death that day.

Jonah stared over at us when he was hauled from the courtroom, his face a mask of pure pain. Our gazes caught from a few feet away and he said loudly, tortured, with tears streaming down his cheeks from red-rimmed eyes, “I didn’t do it. Please, believe me.”

I hate that I don’t believe him.

I hate that I still love him, miss him, need him here beside me, giving me warmth on my darkest days. I think that’s why I’m so broken-down and damaged.

Forgiveness without love is one thing.

But love without forgiveness? That’s like a tree without roots; it can’t stand for long. It can never truly live.

That’s why I’m so resistant to the idea of falling in love. I can’t go through it again.

Brynn! told me I have “anti-love” eyes, and I think it’s because of all the horrible things they’ve seen in the name of it.

I turn to Max and can hardly make out his expression through the blur of tears. All I know is that he’s staring at me. He doesn’t pull his eyes away, even though a sky full of stars hangs over us. “Sorry,” I murmur. “I’m getting all emotional.”

“Don’t be sorry. I know it’s not the same but, in a way…I can relate.”

“You can?”

He nods, maintaining eye contact. “My mother walked out on us and never came back,” he tells me. “She’s not dead but she’s not here. I can’t put my arms around her or eat her blueberry waffles, but I also can’t bring flowers to a gravestone or whisper words to the clouds and pretend she can hear me.”

Max’s knuckles graze against my own. I’m not sure if it’s intentional or not, but I don’t move away. I do the opposite by inching my hand closer to his until his featherlight touch evolves into willful brushstrokes. Rhythm. The sensation prompts my belly to clench and my skin to sizzle.

“There’s no closure in something like that,” he continues, the words breathy. “That kind of grieving is an entirely different beast. Grieving someone still alive becomes choice, instead of chance, and I’ve had a whole lot of experience with that.” He swallows, dusting his thumb across the back of my hand. “Sometimes I think it’s the only thing in this world worse than death.”

I hear him but his touch is louder. It feels like a song, an orchestra trumpeting through my bloodstream. My heart is a bass drum, and when his fingers slowly, delicately, begin to lace with mine, the drumbeats crescendo.

For as good as I am at catching things, I can hardly catch my breath. It slips away from me, as does time. We stare at each other, our fingers gently tangling, our hands locking to parallel our gazes. Max’s breathing is shaky, my limbs are quivering, and I’ve never been this close to anyone before. Not like this. The stars are overhead, but some may have fallen and crash-landed in my chest. At least a few. At least one.

Max’s eyes close for a beat with a slow, lazy blink. And then he whispers, “Look at the sky, Sunny.”

His words register like thick molasses and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from his. I think I’m in a trance. A spell-glazed stupor.

He smiles at me, gives my hand a tender squeeze. “Look up.”

Finally, I catch that breath. It filters through me, unlocking me, and as the strange haze dissipates, I blink myself back to the bluffs and let his words sink in.

I look up.

Above me, stars begin to emerge, one by one, as if someone is gradually lighting up a giant cosmic pinboard. My eyes adjust to the night as the darkness opens up, unveiling an extravagant show of constellations. Then, out of nowhere, a bright streak flashes across the sky.

I turn to look at Max again. “What was that?” I choke out, the words all gasp and wonder.

“The Taurid meteor shower.”

My gaze pans back up and my heart jumps. The Taurid meteor shower. The meteor is cutting across the night like a sharp, swift brush streak on an inky canvas. Then comes another and another, each one more enchanting than the last.

I can feel my pulse racing, matching the rhythm of each fleeting meteor. Every fiery trail feels like a hello, a postcard from the farthest reaches of space. Being under the open sky makes me feel tiny, insignificant. But there is also a strange sense of belonging as light beams slash through a backdrop of deep, deep blue.

“Ella?” Max whispers.

Tears gather in my eyes as my chest fills with a smothering feeling. “Yeah?”

“I lied about something.”

I frown, tipping my head toward him. “You did?”

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