Page 95 of Rewind It Back

I give Zanders that look again, silently begging him not to say anything while my mom is on the line.

“Rio, honey, I’ve got to get going,” she says. “The neighborhood is starting to show up for dinner.”

“Okay, Ma. Have a good time. Love you.”

“Yeah. Okay. Love you too.” She rushes me off the phone before her loud Italian voice excitedly calls out someone’s name—whoever just walked through her door—before she hangs up the phone on me.

“Are you sure your mother even loves you?” Zee asks over my shoulder.

“Fuck off. Yes, she just loves the neighborhood ladies a little bit more than her only child.”

The bus finally starts moving so I find my text thread with Hallie.

Me:On our way. See you soon. Dinner reservation is at eight.

“She’s already got the red heart emoji in her contact name?” Zee whistles. “You got it bad, my guy.”

“It’s for her last name. Hart. H—Heart. It’s a thing from when we were kids.”

I definitely didn’t consider my friends looking over my shoulder and reading my texts when I updated her contact to match the way she used to sign her mixtapes.

“You haven’t told your mom that Hallie moved to town?” Zanders asks.

I shake my head to tell him no.

“She wouldn’t be cool with you two spending time together again?”

My sigh is heavy. “Not even a little bit.”

He’s silent for a moment until he nudges me on the shoulder. “I know your relationship with your mom could not be more different than the nonexistent one I have with mine, so I might not seem like the best person to give this advice. But if anyone told me not to spend time with Stevie, I’d be quick to reevaluate that person’s importance in my life. I know you love your mom, we all love your mom, but you’re a grown-ass man now, Rio. At a certain point, our parents’ opinions can’t be more important than our own.”

“Rio!” one of my teammates calls out from the back of the bus. “Play some music for the drive.”

I grab my boombox, the same one I bring almost everywhere, and set it on the empty seat next to me. Starting it up, I let it play whatever is in there as I try not to think about my mom, Boston, or Hallie for the rest of the drive to the hotel.

My head has been reeling since that bus ride.

It’s not only my parents’ opinions that feel too important, but also my parents’ mistakes.

The two people who shaped my entire belief system, who shaped the way I view love, who I mirrored my own relationship off of, divorced six years ago and haven’t spoken since.

Childhood sweethearts. God, I could laugh.

I spent so much of the past six years chasing this fucked-up need to prove that love actually exists and I just had to try my hardest to find it. I blamed that need on Hallie when just as much of that blame, if not more, could be placed on my parents.

I completely zoned out during my shower and while I was getting dressed for dinner, moving on autopilot. The same could be said for the elevator ride down to the lobby, knowing the reason I’m so concerned about telling my mom that Hallie is back in my life is because I don’t want to hear what she has to say.

I’ve spent so much time being angry becauseshewas upset. I felt protective of her in that way, but I don’t want to keep basing my decisions on her feelings. I want to move forward.

God, everything feels so fucking confusing. I tried to move on with my life, sold on the belief that Hallie was the enemy, but suddenly, that belief doesn’t feel so solid these days. All I know is that I haven’t felt so like myself as I have the past few weeks, seeing her again. Even when we’re fighting, even when I think about all the shitty things from the past, being with her feels like...home.

There’s this nagging part of me that’s questioning whether the homesickness I’ve felt for years now has been for Boston or if it’s actually been for her.

My head is still spinning, trying to organize itself, when the elevator opens and she steps out. She doesn’t see me—the hotel lobby is fairly crowded—but I see her.

And all that confusion, all that second-guessing is thrown out the window because I do know what I’m doing. I have only ever loved one person in my entire life and she’s here and fuck it, I don’t care about the rest. I want to know if this could be something. If we could ever forgive each other. If we could ever try again.

Unsurprisingly, she looks great tonight. Her hair is pin straight and cut sharply below her jaw. A black satin skirt and dark green peacoat dress her up, but the lace-up combat boots and graphic tee add the casual factor. Then you add all that mixed metal jewelry she loves to wear, and she looks... exactly like the girl I’ve spent most of my life dreaming about.

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