Page 126 of Our Hearts Knew Better

And with a huffed laugh, he says, “Yeah, I know I’m a big screw up,” with his features screwed up the same, and I feel my fingers roll into a fist, like a warning for me being in harm’s way as I picture myself kicking his father’s ass for ever scarring him with those words.

I lunge for him, my fist a grip on his arm, when he makes for his escape to the front. “Hey. You’re not a screw up. Stop listening to him.”

“I’m listening to me,” he argues, shoving me off, with more force and strength than he did the last time my hands were on him, a lead for me to shut up so he can let out the more there, and my body knows to steel itself. “You always seemed to get everything I couldn’t. What I wanted wanted you. You were even better at ball than me. And I was damn good,” he stresses through a stiff jaw, like the world needs to get the message andfix what he lost. “And I would’ve made it, but you still had to be just thatlittle bitbetter,” he says, with a backhanded mash-up hit of kudos and criticism to my chest. “You got the whole family unit. The good parents. The good life. Good shit to offer. Summer was more like me. But I didn’t have the good shit, did I? And now I have less than that.”

I have less than what I had, too, like a mother who’s looking forward to her dead husband, my dead dad, walking through the door and eating the food rotted in the fridge.

“You feel better?” I manage to ask instead ofadding saltthat’ll just make him more bitter.

“Loads,” he mutters out, shaking his head, and my hands find the insides of my pockets to keep them there.

“You know, you should be thankful you even made it out of that crash alive.”My dad wasn’t so lucky.The thought burns from my stare to his, a mellowing of his features saying he understands my point, but his words are still the reverse.

“You ever get tired of being you? Of dealing with it? Being so happy all the time?”

“I’m happy all the time,” I repeat, my jaw stiffened now.

“No, I know you better, but yourcount your blessingspep talks? That’s happy people shit, and that’s not me, and so easy for you to do, because you still have some. And yeah, I could then, but what blessings do Ireallyhave?” He’s not asking for an answer. His answer isnone. “That’s where I’m at. AndthatI can’t leave.”

“So where are you going?” I prod, shifting closer as he shifts for the driver side door. “What’s the plan now?”

“Who cares,” he carps out as he swings the door open, pausing as he stares inside the car. A pang billows up my chest as I see us as kids, on the Gilligan, the night he finally opened up to me about his family, him in much of the same woundable state,saying much of the same sensitive words about the first people who should’ve loved and cared about him.

I realize, although I’ve known deep somewhere, in Adam’s way, he was always trying to hold everything together too.

And now he’s feeling like Summer and I aren’t the people who care about him anymore, either, but we are.

“We care, Adam,” I tell him, low, angling as if I can meet his eyes from his position, then giving that up and just saying what I need him to hear. “You don’t have to go.”

He’s quiet a few beats before he says, “You really have no idea if you think that.”

“I don’t think—” My groan cuts me off as I step through the distance and grip the frame of the door to keep him from shutting it as he drops onto the seat. “I know what this town is and does for me and what it isn’t and doesn’t do for you,” I say, my voice hoarse as I amend, “I don’twantyou to go.”

He starts the car and my hold on the door starts to slip, feeling the first nick at the space he’s going to leave behind if he drives off, even as I clutch tight enough my hand cramps with this reminder that he’s already slipped.

“You don’t want to get past this…” I mutter, the nick now in my voice.

His hands are white on the wheel as he pushes himself back against the seat. “I want to get past all this. This town. My dad. You and Summer.” His voice lowers on us, then he huffs a laugh. “The fucking season. Everything.” He finally looks at me, and before he lets out the rest, I know I’m not going to listen to it. “I don’t want to know you anymore. And I don’t want you to know me.”

Adam reaches for the door and my hold slips away, all the while I’m telling myself,that’s too bad. I feel it in my face, in the pang, and the shift in his tells me he catches the read, but again, his words are his guns.

“I won’t forget what you gave up for me,” he says. “The years with Summer.” My throat clogs as I think about the time Summer and I lost together, making it hard to swallow. “They were some of my best,” he adds, low, and I feel myself nodding, because we can’t take it back, and I would honestly wish Summer’s light on everyone. “Now you can have them.”

He shuts the door, and after a few more beats, he lowers the window with a cryptic sort of smile aimed at me. “Now I broke her heart. Go fix it.”

I broke her heart. Now go fix it.

That’s what I gritted out to him after I let Summer go at the bridge, and as he drives off to hell knows where, I know I’ll never be the one who breaks Summer’s heart again.

And when Adam lets me, because he’s still my best friend, I’m going to fix everything that’s gone wrong with us too.

Our Hearts Knew Better

Summer

I type out my last edit for my last client of the day with my phone wedged between my cheek and my shoulder, trying to get Clarissa out of my ear. Her questions andhappy for yous have been continuous since I told her Levi and I are officially and finally together, and now she’s taking her vacation to come visit us.

She’s also considering finding a place closer to here, since I’m not going back to Virginia. Which I would love, andwhichwould happen much sooner if she’d let me hang up the phone.

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