Page 45 of Until Forever Falls

“Then we’ll go someday. I promise, eventually, I’ll take you.”

I bite my lip, dropping my gaze from the sky, suddenly feeling too small beneath it. “You don’t have to promise me things like that.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

“People always mean things…until they don’t.”

The space between us tightens—not in distance, but in the quiet pull of something inevitable. His pinky slips away, only to be replaced by the deliberate intertwining of his fingers with mine. Just as the moment pulls me deeper, Brooks’ free hand brushes against my jaw. He tilts my face up toward him, pulling my eyes to his.

“Then let me be the exception,” he whispers, each word sinking into my skin, stirring a longing that fills every corner of me.

My bones feel liquid, my entire body melting from the importance of this single moment. His mouth inches closer, near enough that I can nearly taste his words as they form. “I’ve been waiting for this since the day I met you.”

The way he looks at me feels like a spell—his emerald irises pulling me in, impossible to resist. The past and future disappear. There’s only now. Only this. I tilt my chin, the tip of his nose brushing mine in the gentlest collision of need.

My lips part, and then his meet mine—tender, unhurried, like a fairytale unfolding in slow motion. I melt into him, my fingers curling into his shirt as I pull him closer. He deepens the kiss, threading a hand into my hair, cradling the back of my head while his other molds to the curve of my spine. Brooks holds me like he’s afraid to let go. And I go to him willingly, drawn by a force older than time itself—like the stars carved this moment into the universe long before we ever existed. When he finally pulls away, our foreheads rest together, both of us breathless.

“You,” he exhales. “If my dreams ever lead me somewhere, they would lead me to you, Dylan.”

There’s an ache, a longing, a fear I don’t have a name for. The edge of the blanket becomes my focus, and my fingers press into the thick weave of the blanket, kneading the fabric as if the right words might be hidden in its threads. “I can’t…” I gather the courage like fragile glass in my hands before lifting my eyes back to his. “I’m leaving, after graduation. Rockport was never supposed to be permanent.”

His hand catches mine, stilling my nervous movements. “Rockport might not be permanent, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be. I meant what I said before—you’re worth more than just surviving. If leaving is what you need, then go. But give me right now. Give me tomorrow—hell, give me forever if you’ll have me. However long I get to be yours, I’ll take it, no matter what it costs me in the end.”

When I look at him this time, it’s different. I don’t just see him—I feel him in every sense. The way his hair falls in careless waves, a few strands nearly brushing the smallest white scar above his eyebrow. The freckles dusting his nose, fading as they reach his cheeks. I wonder how many stories are etched into his skin, ones I’ve never thought to ask about.

Yet, somehow, I already know the most important one.

I’m the rain that never stays, and he’s the earth drawing me in like I was always meant to fall for him.

“Okay,” I say, the word slipping past my lips like a promise, a quiet yes to exploring whatever this is between us. “Let’s see what happens.”

16

Dylan

Now

My mother’s once bottle blonde hair has been replaced by her natural mousy brown, but there’s no mistaking her. She looks different—healthier. Her skin, once ashen and lined with depletion, now has a glow to it. Her dull, hollow eyes I remember now shine, a striking blue that mirrors my own. She looks…well, tired, but undeniably well.

Noticing the diner around me feels impossible—blurred faces, the clink of silverware, none of it matters. She’s the only thing that feels real. Resentment curdles beneath my skin, guilt threading through it like smoke, but I smother them before they can take shape. She doesn’t deserve anything from me—not my excuses, not my forgiveness, not a single piece of who I am now.

Denise moves like she’s forgotten how to walk, uneven, her body jerking forward like instinct pulled her to me before her mind could catch up. She doesn’t dare blink, as if expecting me to dissolve before her eyes.

Her arms hover before she finally pulls me in. I don’t move at first—my arms just hang there because I don’t know what else to do. It’s awkward.

Then, just as quickly as it started, it’s over. She steps back, searching my face like she’s trying to etch the changes into her mind. Tears stream down her cheeks, but she doesn’t wipe them away.

“Oh my God,” she breathes. “It’s you. You’re really here!” Her voice shakes, and I can tell she doesn’t know where to start. I wonder if maybe she won’t. Perhaps we’ll just stay here, staring at each other while she tries to silently bridge the years between us.

But to my dismay, she speaks again, and the moment shatters. “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. I tried—I um, searched—prayed. And now…” She lets out a laugh, but it breaks halfway through, turning into something else entirely. “You’re back.”

She announces it like that changes anything between us. That my return fixes the past and erases all the reasons I left in the first place.

She wipes at her face, her breathing labored, but the tears don’t relent. “You’re all grown up now. Look at you. Oh, Dylan, my sweet girl.”

Her hands reach for mine, and every muscle in my body screams to pull away, but I don’t.

I can’t.

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