Page 66 of Until Forever Falls

I tilt my chin upward. “The stars.”

Her eyes drift skyward, mirroring my movement. Through the break in the trees, the sky feels bigger somehow, like it’s stretching on forever. She stares, her silence speaking volumes.

“I thought maybe this would help,” I add after a beat. “It’s not just a pretty view, but something for you to keep. Another place you can tuck away when you need to think. A pocket in the sky where you can remember you’re not alone, even in the darkest moments.”

She drops her gaze back to me, her lips tugging into a faint smirk. “And here I thought you were bringing me somewhere secluded for a completely different reason.”

“If that’s what you want, all you gotta do is ask, Rivers.”

She shoots me a glare, but there’s no real heat behind it. She’s deflecting.

I tug lightly on her hand, and after a second, she sits beside me at the water’s edge, knees tucked to her chest. The fabric of her dress gathers around her legs, pooling softly at her feet, blending into the darkened earth. The stream tumbles over smooth stones, its gentle rhythm carrying a sense of calm. It’s the kind of peace that feels earned, like the world is giving you a minute to just be.

She’s still staring up at the sky a few minutes later, her expression softer than it was at the school, like some of the hurt she’s been stewing on has started to lift. That’s what I wanted for her, to give her a second to forget everything.

“Do you think he’s right?” she asks suddenly, her voice tentative.

I know she’s talking about Beckett without her saying it, and I answer honestly. “I think he’s your brother, and that means he’s trying to figure out how to protect you. Even if he gets it wrong.”

She pulls at a flower, its delicate petals forcing their way through the rocks. “It just sucks, you know? That he thought I couldn’t handle it. That I’d be so self absorbed that I wouldn’t want him to have something good in his life because it didn’t include me.”

“He doesn’t think that.” I look at her, trying to catch her eye, but she keeps staring out at the water. “Fear makes people do stupid things. He was just scared of letting you down.”

The water trickles in the background, a comforting rhythm while crickets echo from somewhere far off. The stars feel closer out here, like you could reach out and grab one if you tried to. I want to tell her that everything will work out, that Beckett was just trying to do what he thought was best, but it’s not what she needs right now.

What she needs is to feel like someone’s here, that she doesn’t have to figure all of this out on her own.

“You know,” I say after a while, “whatever happens with Beckett, you’re still going to be okay. You’ve got this, Dylan. You always do.”

She kicks off her heels, one after the other, shedding the night with them. Her bare toes press into the dirt as if daring the earth to pull her in.

Her voice is soft when she thanks me, sliding a ring off and rolling it between her fingers before tucking it back into place. I stay, letting the stars blaze overhead, the water ripple in the distance, as if the world itself is listening.

The drive back to my place is quick, Dylan’s got her feet tucked beneath her on the seat, head resting against the window like she’s somewhere else entirely. I don’t try to pull her back. If she needs space, she can have it.

My dad’s out of town again—some job two states over that probably has him holed up in a motel with my mom. He’s always gone, always working. When I was younger, I used to wonder if he’d ever just stay. If maybe one day, work wouldn’t come first. Now, I don’t waste time thinking about it. It is what it is. Mom left after we stopped by to let her take pictures, then decided to spend the weekend with Dad since he’d been gone the last week or so. The house always feels emptier when they’re gone, but at this point, it doesn’t make much of a difference.

The porch light I left on earlier casts a dull glow as we pull into the driveway. Everything else is dark, but neither of us moves after I cut the engine.

“You good?” I ask eventually. “I can take you home if you’d prefer, Dill.”

Dylan shifts, stretching her legs out before reaching for the handle. “Yeah, I’m good.”

She doesn’t sound convincing, but I know that if she wants to talk, she will.

We step inside, and I flip on a couple of lights to make the place feel less empty. My keys hit the table with an abrupt clatter. Behind me, Dylan hovers in the doorway, arms pulled tight around herself like she’s still deciding whether she wants to be here at all. If I didn’t know what she was dealing with at home, I might’ve asked her again.

It’s not uncomfortable, just uncertain. Her eyes move around the room, like she’s looking for something solid to hold onto.

“You hungry?” I ask, heading for the kitchen. The fridge hums as I pull it open. A couple of sodas, some leftovers, nothing worth eating.

“Um. Not really.”

“Okay. Same.” I shut the fridge, and lean against it. She looks drained, but not in a way that sleep can fix. I can tell what happened tonight is still on her mind, and I just want to help her forget about it, even if it’s only for a little while. She holds onto things too easily, lets them take up space in her head until there’s no room for anything else.

“You can wear some of my clothes if you want,” I offer. “You don’t have to, but if you want to get out of that dress, I can grab something. I’ll probably change too, so we can just hang out.”

She nods. “Yeah, I’d like that. Thanks.”

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