Page 22 of Until Forever Falls

“Sure,” I answer, stacking plates in my arms.

We sit down, and without missing a beat, Mom starts dishing out food. She serves Greg first, of course, making sure his plate is just right before moving on. I don’t know many adults who treat mac and cheese like a gourmet meal, but I figure it’s better not to question it. We’re just extras in the show she’s putting on.

I chew mechanically. Each bite feels like swallowing cardboard, but I don’t stop. Neither does Beckett. We eat like we’re on a timer. No words. No glances. Just quiet endurance.

As soon as our plates are empty, we clear them without a word, slipping away before the fragile peace at the table has a chance to break. I lead the way to my room, Beckett following close behind, neither of us looking back.

“Well, that was a nightmare,” he mumbles, collapsing onto my bed.

“Don’t get comfortable. That was too easy. She’s holding it in.”

“Maybe she’ll get laid, and we’ll get a free pass tonight,” he jokes, attempting optimism.

“Ew, Beckett. I hate you for that sentence.”

“What?”

“If I have to picture them naked, I might actually vomit,” I say, shuddering.

“Hey, you’ll be grateful if it buys us a drama-free night!”

“Here’s to hoping,” I say, crossing my fingers for emphasis.

Beneath the sarcasm, dread coils in my stomach. Mom is a ticking time bomb, and deep down, I’m terrified. When she finally goes off, we won’t have time to run. We’ll just have to brace for impact and hope the blast doesn’t take us down with her.

9

Dylan

Now

“We don’t have to go. I can cancel.” Aaron’s voice is careful, like he’s trying not to spook me.

I shake my head a little too quickly. “No—don’t. We go home tomorrow. Let’s have a nice evening.”

“Home?” He latches onto the word like a splinter under his skin. “Does that mean you’re finally going to move in?” The question lands like a misplaced step on an uneven sidewalk.

“Aaron.” His name leaves my lips, empty of the reassurance I wish it held. “We’ve talked about this. I’m not ready to live together. I just mean we’re going back to New York.”

“I know.” He cuts himself off, his gaze dropping as if he’s not sure he wants to say the rest. “Every night, I reach for you, and you’re not there. Every morning, I wake up, and the apartment feels too damn empty. Sometimes I wish—”

The low hum of an approaching engine drowns out whatever Aaron was about to say, and I pretend not to notice his unfinished thought. The valet attendant barely has time to shift into park before I slip into the passenger seat.

“You’re really dodging this conversation, huh?”

“No.” The word comes out too defensive. I rein it in, smoothing my expression. “You wish what?”

I really, really don’t want to hear this. I was hoping I could avoid it, that maybe he wouldn’t continue the conversation and let me off easy. I…should have known better. But here we are, and I’m doing everything I can to keep my face neutral even though my stomach flutters like a trapped bird.

Aaron exhales sharply, rubbing his palm over his jaw like he’s debating whether to say it at all. “I just wish we could be more committed, you know?”

I chew on my lip, my mind racing to find a response that won’t make things worse. “I get that, but moving in isn’t something I’m ready for yet. It doesn’t mean I’m not committed—I just…need more time.”

A lump rises in my throat. I care about him—I do. But caring doesn’t erase the way I keep parts of myself locked away. I wish I could explain it, the way it feels like I’m caught between wanting more and fearing what ‘more’ really means.

“Do you think maybe I’m just…broken?” The words feel serrated as they leave my mouth. Aaron’s fingers flex against the wheel, his knuckles paling as his head jerks slightly in my direction.

“What? No. I mean…what are you even talking about?”

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