Page 49 of Forever Then

I may have screwed things up beyond repair, but I’ll spend the rest of my life withthispicture as a reminder that soulmates do exist—even if I never get to call her mine.

Gretchen doesn’t let go of my hand until we’re safely off the bridge, away from the cliff’s edge.

Opting to rest and enjoy the view before beginning the trek back, we find a patch of shade tucked up above the trail. Once we’re situated on the ground, Gretchen grabs some granola bars and water from the bag while I try to work out some of the tightness in my back.

I roll my neck from side to side, rotate my shoulders forward and then back. Next thing I know, there’s a pill bottle pressed against my ear being shaken like a baby rattle. “Just take ’em, old man.”

Huffing, I swipe the bottle from her hand. “Geez, okay, Mom.”

“Hey! Don’t disrespect Mama V like that. That woman’s a saint,” she mumbles through a mouthful of granola.

I toss back the pills and chase them with a swig of water to hide my smile.

“You actuallyarean old man, so where’s the lie?”

“Twenty-eight is old now?”

“You’re almost twenty-nine, which might as well be thirty, which basically makes you forty, which, for all intents and purposes, means you’re middle-aged.” I snicker. “I mean, look at you. We hiked a measly three miles and you’re over here poppin’ pills.”

I stare at her, unamused, yet entirely entertained. Gretchen eyes me sidelong, lips lifting at the corners as she tilts the water bottle to take a drink.

Faster than she can react, I reach out and give the bottle a quick squeeze. Water gushes all over her face and down her neck and she jolts forward. I casually sit back, the portrait of infantile innocence, and tear into my granola bar. When she turns to look at me, hand still wiping water from her chin, I give her my proudest grin.

“The road to hell is paved with the arrogant smiles of grown ass man-children.”

“Noted.”

She tuts. “Mama V would be ashamed.”

“Nah. Being the favorite child has its perks.”

She shakes her head in good-natured exasperation as she leans back on her palms. I mirror her position and turn my gaze to the view ahead of us. We sit in silence for a few minutes as hikers come and go on the trail below.

“You still talk to your mom every week?”

I grin. “Every Friday at five like clockwork.” Same day, same time since the week I left for college. Mom doesn’t let me miss our weekly phone date for anything.

“Such a good little son,” Gretchen coos, pinching my cheek.

When she leans back on her hands, our shoulders brush and I turn toward her. Her gaze drops to my mouth and the air between us instantly sizzles. I hesitate even though every nerve ending in my body says to grab her by the neck and yank her lips to mine.

But it’s Gretchen who leans in first. I follow her lead, my heart a jackhammer in my chest. She moves an inch, I do the same, the two of us drifting together in slow motion. Every inch gained feels like its own small finish line as an invisible string pulls us close enough that I can taste her scent on my tongue.

She pauses, eyes lowered. But mine are up, appraising her; I need confirmation that she wants this.

I sense it a moment before she says it. Her chin drops a fraction and she retreats a millimeter that might as well be a mile.

“I’m sorry. I can’t,” she says on a breath so close I feel it wisp over my jaw.

My lungs inflate heavily as my stomach sinks. Nearly the same words I said to her three years ago come back to haunt me. This is what I deserve. Gretchen owes me nothing. Not even her apology.

I pull back a healthy distance, determined to not make her any more uncomfortable than she already is. “No. You, uh…” I clear my throat. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yes, I do,” she says, voice low and weary. “I was…flirting…earlier, with you. I was flirting and I?—”

“Gretch, stop.”

The heels of her palms come to her temples, head shaking like it might make the last thirty seconds disappear. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just…today has been so?—”

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