Page 3 of Until Forever Falls

Letting out an exaggerated groan, I all but slam my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. “Happy now, KitKat?” I huff, grabbing the one box with my name on it. “Wouldn’t want you to strain yourself withallmy stuff.”

Trudging inside, the cardboard digs into my arms as I search for my so-called “new bedroom.” All thanks to Mom and her impulsive romance with some random trucker she met at a Kum & Go. One look, a few corny texts, and suddenly we’re packed up and dragged against our will to this godforsaken town in Oregon.

Resentment simmers, growing more intense with every second I’m here. Eight months—eighttorturousmonths—stand between me and graduation, the only thing that will finally allow me to claw my way out of here. I’ll take any escape route necessary to get away from her.

My footsteps echo down the narrow hallway, the sound amplifying the creak of the worn linoleum. Peeling wallpaper curls at the edges, sneering at my forced arrival. At the end, the door to my new room scrapes open, revealing a cramped, bare space with a mattress shoved against the far corner. I had low expectations, and somehow, it still disappoints.

The box lands with a thud as I instinctively grab my sketchbook out of it. Sprawled across the bed, I let my pencil carve out my frustration, anger bleeding into every jagged stroke.

Getting ripped away at the start of senior year would be my luck. I’m not exactly a social butterfly—flying under the radar has always been safer. The idea of being the new kid again sounds about as fun as a root canal.

The sudden clash of voices outside my door snaps me to attention, my ears straining to pick up the words.

“You’ve never cared about what we wanted!” Beckett’s voice tears through the small house, each syllable hitting like a hammer. “You dragged us halfway across the country for your new boyfriend! It’s always about you!”

“Don’t you dare turn this on me!” Mom fires back. “We’re here because I’m trying to build a better life for us! You and your sister never appreciate the sacrifices I make!”

“Sacrifices?” Beckett scoffs. “You call ditching everything for some guy you barely know and dragging us along a ‘sacrifice’? Real noble of you, Mom. Bravo.”

Oh, lovely. As if today wasn’t bad enough. If there’s one thing Beckett and I excel at, it’s setting Mom off—though, to be fair, she usually deserves it. The problem is, no matter who starts it, I’m always the one who takes the worst of it—before, during, and long after the fight is over.

Slipping my sketchbook out of sight, I cross the room in a few quick strides and test the window latch—it’s loose. With a shove, it drags open with a reluctant scrape, and thankfully, the lack of a screen makes slipping outside easy. Dropping down into the overgrown grass, my black high-tops sink into damp earth as my footsteps carry me briskly toward the cracked pavement.

Small, weather-worn houses line the street, their lawns surrendered to wild weeds. Time slips by as the subdued neighborhood gives way to bustling sidewalks, the scenery shifting from worn-out to charming, with quaint storefronts dotting the street—a surprisingly small reminder of what used to be home amid this rundown town.

Nearly everything is shut down for the night, but the glow of a diner ahead stands out. The neonRuby’ssign buzzes in bright red, casting a warm glow against the pavement. My stomach clenches, making the decision for me as I slip inside.

The scent of fresh coffee and hushed conversations fill the space as I enter. At a nearby booth, a boy with golden-brown hair and piercing green eyes glances up, his gaze meeting mine for a heartbeat before turning back to his friends. Ignoring the quick, erratic beat of my heart, I make my way to the counter.

“Well, hey there, sweetie. What can I get you?” the woman behind the counter asks, her smile as warm as the diner’s glowing lights.

“Oh, um…” My eyes dart across the menu plastered to the wall, searching for something to settle on. “A milkshake sounds good. Any suggestions?”

“Well, if you’re a chocolate lover, the brownie batter’s a favorite,” she replies, beaming happily.

“Yeah…that sounds good. I’ll take it.” Returning her smile, I reach into my jeans and hand over a couple of crumpled bills. “Thanks.” There’s a sincerity in her that suggests she’s the kind of person everyone in this town probably adores.

Before long, the milkshake is handed over, and the first sip hits my tongue, calming me and pushing everything else to the back of my mind. Turning to go, I meet the same boy’s stare once more, his friends falling silent. Their eyes follow as I step through the door, the evening air closing in around me.

“Where have you been?”

My mother’s voice lashes out as soon as I enter the house, eyes narrowed with a look that could set me ablaze. Why didn’t I think to use the damn window again?

“Out for a walk,” I respond, casually drifting toward the hallway. I know where this conversation is headed, and if I move fast enough, I might slip away before it escalates.

“I asked you a fucking question. ‘A walk’ isn’t an answer,” she snaps, her footsteps closing in behind me.

I quicken my pace. “I went for a walk, found a diner, and grabbed a milkshake. Why are you so wound up, Denise? Jesus.”

She scoffs, her tone dripping with disdain. “Excuse me? You wanna try that again?”

“Oh my God. What’s your deal today? We just got here. You’d think you’d be in a happier mood.”

I don’t need to see her face to know she’s livid. “My deal? You and your damn brother are ‘my deal,’ Dylan.” Her voice shakes with rage, growing louder as I reach my room. “You two are going to put me into an early grave, I swear to fucking God.”

Gripping the edge of my door, my knuckles turn white. “Right, it’s totally our fault you’re on a fast track to an early grave, not your own decisions,” I retort, sarcasm dripping with the sting of acid, baiting her further.

The flash of shock in her eyes is immediately overtaken by rage. I probably should’ve kept my mouth shut—but honestly, I don’t care anymore.

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