Page 70 of Don't Let Me Go
At the same time, I also can’t stop thinking about us dying on that bridge.
I know it was only a dream, but it was fuckingterrifying. And I think that fear was a message. A message that I’m not ready to deal with these feelings and that I need to stay away from Riley.
Even though right now, staying away from him is fucking killing me.
“Okay, let me rephrase the question,” Aunt Rachel says when I continue to stare at my coffee in silence. “Does this recent bout of brooding have something to do with what happened back in December?”
I shake my head.
“Okay. I didn’t think so, but good to rule it out.” She takes a sip of her coffee, and I can feel her eyes studying me. “So, if this sudden funk isn’t football related, would I be right in assuming it has something to do with your friend Riley?”
Despite my intention not to tell my aunt anything, I find myself nodding.
“Did you guys have a fight?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Okay. So...”
I consider lying or telling her it’s none of her business. But if there’s one person who might actually be able to help me make sense of everything, it’s Aunt Rachel. She knows me better than anyone.
“So?.?.?.?Riley’s gay,” I begin, starting with the simplest part of the story.
“Yeah, I got that from the skinny jeans.”
When I don’t laugh, she stops smiling and sets down her coffee. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”
“No, of course not,” I say.
“Okay. Just checking. I love my big brother, but I know better than anyone that Wyatt doesn’t have the most progressive views on certain subjects. I’m allowed to make sure that he’s not passing on his toxic, macho bullshit to my favorite nephew.”
“I’m your only nephew.”
“Take the win, kiddo.”
I smile, and Aunt Rachel plucks a strawberry off her waffle, pops it into her mouth, and considers what I’ve told her. “So if you don’t have a problem with Riley’s sexuality, whatisthe problem?”
I take a deep breath. It’s now or never, I suppose.
“Riley likes me,” I explain. “Helikes melikes me.”
Aunt Rachel starts to reach for another strawberry but stops. Her expression doesn’t change but there’s a definite shift in her energy as she turns her full attention to me.
“I see. And how do we feel about that?”
The way she poses the question, I know exactly what she’s asking. It’s the same question I’ve been asking myself for the past six days.
“I don’t know,” I tell her.
Aunt Rachel nods, and I can see her picking her next words carefully.
“Well, one of the great things about being young, maybe the only great thing—aside from being able to drink like a fish and roll out of bed the next morning without a hangover—is that you don’t have to have all the answers. Contrary to what my brother believes, you don’t need to have your whole life figured out by the time you’re eighteen. That goes for your professional lifeandyour personal life. You’re allowed to take as much time as you want to decide who you are, how you want to spend your life, andwhoyou want to spend that life with. The only thing you need to know right now is that, whatever you decide, I am always, always,alwaysgoing to be here for you.”
Aunt Rachel reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. Myrelief is overwhelming. After days of suffocating under the weight of my fear, I feel like I can breathe again.
“What do I do about Riley?” I ask once I trust myself to speak. “What do I tell him?”
“Tell him what you told me. That you don’t know how you feel, and you need time to figure things out. If he cares about you the way he should care about you, he’ll understand.”
