Page 51 of Forever Then

Smooth, Gretchen.

“Must’ve been thinking hard. You haven’t said a word in almost two hours.”

Not strong enough to face the pain in his voice, I clear my throat to push away the sting.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” I answer, like he’s really going to buy it.

“Really, Gretch?” he asks, voice incredulous.

I half-ass a smile as I bury my thumbnail between my teeth, nerves skyrocketing. Without a word, Connor prods my hand away from my face before both of his hands land back on the steering wheel.

The simple gesture brings a faint smile to my face. I crack my knuckles so I have something to do with my hands because I don’t know what to say.

“Let me guess,” Connor interjects in a good-natured tone that I know is his attempt to ease the tension.

“Please, don’t,” I whisper. I instantly wish I could suck the words right back in. The honesty in them too raw, too vulnerable for me to handle right now.

He exhales beside me, a defeated sound. His shoulders dip and his pain feels nearly as heavy as my own. Jaw tight, he runs a hand over his scruff. He promised he’d wait until I was ready to talk, but I’ve read hot, cold and everything in between in a matter of hours. Yet, not even his dwindling patience is enough to make me speak. Anxiety, embarrassment, fear, and love gone too long unrequited, tie my stomach and my vocal cords in knots.

Then, a resigned sigh and his hand is on mine. I don’t consider the meaning or the consequences when I open my palm to him. His hand squeezes mine and I pinch my eyes shut, commanding my traitorous tear ducts to keep it together.

Do. Not. Cry.

“Are you nervous about seeing your birth mom?” There’s not an ounce of conviction in the question. It may be a valid one, but it bears no weight on this moment or the events of the past several hours.

I choke back all the things I should say, cans of worms that need to be opened. We may not recover from the mess it might make.

When my friendships crashed and burned at the end of high school, I knew none of those relationships would be salvageable, least of all with the girl I used to call my best friend. But, with Connor, there’s a strength to our bond that feels solid. Impenetrable, yet fragile as silk all at once—like I’ll never lose him again, he’ll always be in my life, but he may never be mine either.

We come to a red light and I see it all in his crestfallen expression. He knows what I’m thinking because he reads me like that—always has. The light turns green and he stares lifelessly at the road ahead, sorrow etched into the creases of his forehead. He knows I’m not ready to talk about it, saw me floundering and, despite the risk of drowning himself, jumped in to rescue me.

I accept the question for the lifeline that it is and take the coward’s way out, hoping like hell he understands.

“Yeah, I am.” The words are a bittersweet omission on my tongue.

Chapter Twenty-Two

THE MOVIE

Gretchen

eleven years ago, fall

“Mom!All the other kids at school have already seen it.”

“Gretchen, I hardly believe that’s true,” Mom replies without looking up from the pot of chili on the stovetop.

“Itistrue. David, Sydney, Alexis, Graham. They’ve all seen it and won’t shut up about it,” I whine.

“Who won’t shut up about what?” I turn to see Drew toss a mini-cornbread muffin in his mouth, his eyes already plotting which one he’ll steal next.

“What if Drew took me to see it?” I beg, hands clasped under my chin. I use my bestpretty-pleasewhine, knowing full well it won’t work. It never works.

“What if I took you to see what?” Drew implores, but I ignore him, my attention wholly on Mom, the author and finisher of my fate.

“I’m sorry, honey, but no means no. It’s PG-13 and you knowthe rules.” She shoves past Drew for the bowls in the cupboard above his head.

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