Page 125 of Past the Broken Bridges

Especially not after letting go of the one person I would have dressed up for.

Dixie blushes, moving a curled piece of hair behind her ear, which I spent over an hour on because of how much she was fidgeting on her bed. “I hope Miles thinks the same thing.” Her eyes go to the crowd gathering around the house. “Are you sure you’re okay being here? I understand if you want to go. We can eat ice cream and sulk.”

After Banks dropped me off at the apartment building yesterday, we went our separate ways. He stayed in the truck as I walked inside, and I felt his eyes on me the entire time. I watched from my window as he sat in the parking lot for ten minutes, slammed his palms against the steering wheel, and drove away to who knows where.

I laid in the dark for three hours before Dixie called me about the party. I didn’t have it in me to lie when she asked me to ask Banks to tag along. I simply said I couldn’t do that. My tone apparently said it all because she came over withtwo milkshakes, two fries, and three sappy movie options that she said she loved watching when she was sad.

Banks never came home that night.

I didn’t want to think about where he was.

Or whom he was with.

“I’m sure,” I promise now, stomach dipping at the thought of Banks showing up. What would I do if he did? What would I say to him to make him understand?

I want to be there for him, especially after he confided in me about his father. But if I agreed to go out with him, it would make ending things later on so much harder. It could only last so long before it had to end. Before feelings complicated it.

I didn’t have time for feelings.

Or for complications.

“This will be good,” Dixie states, but I don’t know if it’s her or me she’s trying to convince. “I think it’ll be a distraction for the both of us. You can meet Miles, and maybe one of his friends—”

“No. No boys. It’s the last thing I need.”

She peeks at me with a subtle frown. “Maybe you and Banks can fix things.”

Pressing my lips together, I stare at the house. I wait a moment before shaking my head. “He deserves better than me, Dixie. I said some… I wasn’t nice to him. I said some awful stuff.” She’s about to argue, be the kind of good friend I can’t be, but I stop her. “Let’s just go inside and find Miles. Okay?”

Reluctantly, she starts walking with me toward the house with our elbows linked. “Thank you for coming with me,” she says under her breath. “I don’t think I would have worked the nerve up if you didn’t tag along.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Isn’t this the least I cando? I want to be her friend, to offer her what little of myself I can. Since I wasn’t around for Dawson thanks to my own selfishness, I wanted to be for Miles.

She sighs. “I know, but you haven’t been feeling well lately, and now with B—er, well, you know who, I felt bad asking you to come.”

“I’m fine,” I reassure her, although it takes everything in me to accompany the statement with a smile. One I’m sure she sees right through because she’s seen what my real smile looks like.

The music drowns out our conversation when we walk inside and get pushed together by the packed bodies. I’ve never seen so many people in one place before.

“Whoa,” I faintly hear Dixie say, looking around at the crammed people dancing and drinking among friends.

I nod silently, cringing when I see a couple in the corner putting on quite the show for everybody. The last party we went to seemed so tame compared to this one.

Tightening my arm around her, I say, “We should stick together. Do you see Miles?”

She gets on her tippy toes and starts searching the crowd, frowning. “No. Let’s go find some drinks and then we’ll look for him.”

It doesn’t take long to get to where two giant kegs are set up in the corner of what I’m assuming is the living room. There are two boys pouring drinks and passing them out to everybody who comes up.

Dixie leans into one of them. “Do either of you know where Miles is?”

The boys flash each other a grin before the one with moppy brown hair points behind him. “I think he went into the kitchen.”

My eyes narrow at the glimmer in his eyes, which look like my brother’s when he’s up to no good.

Tugging on Dixie’s arm to get her away from the table, I suggest staying put. “Let him come to you.” I gesture toward a small opening on the opposite end of the room. Something about those boys doesn’t sit well with me, and Dixie is way too excited about Miles to think rationally.

She looks down at her drink. “What if he doesn’t find me?”

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