Page 28 of Until Forever Falls

“You’re a mess.”

“Oh, thanks,” I tease, and I let out a laugh before I even realize it. I reach for him with paint-covered fingers, and he steps back, hands raised in surrender.

“Hey, hey, let’s not make this a war!”

“Too late,” I fire back, lunging forward with a smear of paint aimed right at his cheek.

His hand catches mine midair, stopping me before I can reach him. My body locks up, thoughts stuttering as his hand encircles mine. The quiet takes over, and with it, I sense a shift beneath my feet, as though everything around me is subtly changing.

The stillness is a force now, folding in around us, as though it’s an entity of its own. The flicker of light from outside nearly draws my attention, but it doesn’t quite reach me. Something about him keeps me here, waiting for what comes next.

“We should probably clean up.” Brooks murmurs, his eyes briefly tracing the path of my hand before meeting my gaze again.“And get you back home.”

Home. The word strikes, pulling me back to a reality I’m not ready for. I retract my hand, spinning to the side, trying to bury the disappointment before it shows.

“Yeah. Um, Good idea.” My voice comes out stilted, and I know he hears it.

Neither of us says anything as we start gathering the supplies, the lighthearted rhythm from earlier now replaced with an awkward energy.

By the time we’re in his truck, the sense of dread that comes with returning is almost unbearable. The ride is tense, save for the muffled crash of waves as we leave the beach behind. I glance out the window, desperate for the right words, but nothing comes.

I don’t want to go back. I want to stay in this little pocket of time, where the world feels lighter. But I can’t. The tether to everything I’m trying to avoid is already tugging me back.

The truck slows to a stop in front of my house, the headlights cutting through the early evening shadows. Brooks shifts into park and glances over at me, his hand brushing mine in a quick squeeze.

“I’m glad you came today.”

I glance over at him, my fingers tightening around the door handle. “Me too. It was nice.”

A lazy smile works its way onto his face. “I’m glad. See you later, Dylan.”

“See you,” I echo, slipping out of the truck. I take a moment, watching as he drives away, the butterflies in my stomach still going wild.

When I head inside, the house is quiet—thankfully. I toe off my sneakers and head for the kitchen, spotting a note stuck to the fridge.

Dee,

Got a load out of town. Back in a few days.

– Greg

I crumple it and toss it into the trash without a second thought. Filling up my water bottle, I wander down the hall, catching sight of Beckett sprawled across the couch in the living room, his phone glued to his hand.

“Hey,” I call out, leaning against the wall. “Where’s Mom?”

He shrugs, barely looking up. “She was screaming about something earlier then left. Haven’t seen her since.”

“Figures. What’s for dinner?”

He glances up, his expression mildly annoyed. “Why would I know? Pretty sure the only thing left in the fridge is ketchup.”

I let out a groan and flop onto the couch beside him. “Do we have money for pizza?”

Beckett tosses his phone onto the cushion between us and stretches dramatically. “Yeah, maybe if we dig through the couch cushions for quarters.”

I close my eyes, letting out a long sigh. “Things haven’t changed much, have they?”

He doesn’t answer, his jaw shifting as if he’s chewing on the words before spitting them out. My stomach lets out a low, visceral groan, the kind of sound that can’t be ignored. His stomach protests next, like an unplanned duet, and something about it feels absurd enough to make my chest tighten.

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