Page 71 of Don't Let Me Go
Despite how reassuring her words are and how much I want to believe them, I can’t shake the memory of my dream. Or what it might mean.
“I’m afraid I’ll hurt him,” I confess. “Not intentionally but...”
Aunt Rachel nods sympathetically.
“When you care about someone, there’s always a chance you might end up hurting them. Or getting hurt yourself. But that’s no reason to stop caring about them. Pain is an inevitable part of life, Jackson. There’s no way to avoid it. But love? Love isn’t inevitable. Love is a choice. We have to choose love. And when we do, it doesn’t erase the hurt or shield us from pain, but it does make it bearable. More than bearable. Love is one of the few things that make life worth living.”
I nod. Everything she’s saying makes sense. And yet?.?.?.?“I’m afraid.”
“Oh, Jackson.” My aunt laughs, giving my hand another squeeze. “There are so many things in this world to be afraid of. But love? Love isn’t one of them.Neverbe afraid of love.”
Chapter 28
Riley
Someone keeps ringing the doorbell. I want to break their fingers. Instead, I bury my head under my pillow and try to block out the noise. I don’t understand why Dad doesn’t answer the door. It’s almost ten o’clock. He must be awake.
“Are you going to get that?” I shout.
Dad doesn’t respond, at which point I vaguely remember him saying that he was going to some work event or charity breakfast this morning. I’m not sure of the exact details. I wasn’t listening.
The doorbell grows more insistent. Whoever’s outside clearly isn’t going to stop ringing until they get an answer, so with a groan, I kick off the bedcovers. Despite being dressed in only a T-shirt and boxers, I march downstairs, fling open the front door, and bark, “What?”
Jackson jumps back. He guiltily yanks his finger away from the doorbell as his face turns red with embarrassment. But he’s not the only one momentarily at a loss for words.
“What?.?.?.?what are you doing here?” I stammer when I finally find my voice.
But I know what he’s doing here, don’t I? He’s come to tell me off. To tell me our friendship is over and that he never wants to see me again.
“Sorry,” he says, looking surprisingly contrite for someone who’s here to eviscerate me. “I was gonna call before I came over, but I wasn’t sure if you’d...” He blushes again. “What I mean is?.?.?.?it’s been awhile. Since we hung out. And I thought I might as well come over. You know? So we could talk.”
“Oh.” I swallow.
“Can I come in?”
Jackson’s energy is definitely more “polite nervousness” than “angry retribution.” Which means this is going to be the nicest telling-off in the history of tellings-off or I’m wrong about why he’s here.
“Sure,” I answer cautiously. “Come in.”
Jackson steps inside, but instead of moving farther into the house, we linger in the entranceway, neither of us quite able to look at the other.
“How are you?” he asks after an awkward silence.
“Good,” I lie, because what the hell else can I say? “How are you?”
“Good.”
We both nod stupidly at each other, and I can feel another awkward silence looming on the horizon.
“What did you want to talk about?” I force myself to ask. If this friendship is over, I might as well rip the Band-Aid off and put us both out of our misery.
My question, though, seems to throw Jackson. He clears his throat, stares at his Nikes, then clears his throat again.
“I just wanted...” he begins, then abandons the thought. He opens his mouth to try again but, at the last second, seems to think better of it and settles for shaking his head.
His nervousness is making me nervous. In fact, it’s safe to say that I’m on the verge of a full-blown freak-out when, without any warning, he looks at me with his clear blue eyes and asks, “Have you had breakfast?”
“Breakfast?” I’m not sure I heard him right. “Um?.?.?.?no. I just woke up.”
