Page 19 of This Kind of Forever
We both freeze.
A decade ago, neither one of us would have thought anything of my actions. A decade ago, she probably would have leaned into me, even if she was being stubborn. A decade ago, she could stand to be close to me.
I remove my arm and take a careful step away, putting distance between us. “Sorry,” I mutter.
“It’s fine,” she says. But she refuses to look at me.
Now more than ever, I wish I could go back in time. Back to that day. If I could, I’d keep my mouth shut. As it stands, I want to fully repair things between us. But I worry it’s ten years too late, and anything I try will just be in vain.
For the next few minutes, we stand there uncomfortably as we wait for our funnel cakes. Abbie chatters on about the fair and how much fun she’s having, oblivious to the tension mounting between me and Hallie.
Fuck,I hate this.
When our desserts are ready, we find a flimsy plastic table to sit at. Abbie climbs onto the chair to my right, leaving the other side of the table to Hallie. She chooses the seat across from me, like always.
We’re destined to be on opposing sides forever, it seems.
Voices and laughter float around us as we eat. Usually, I find comfort in the chaos, but now it only functions as background noise to my swirling thoughts.
Abbie giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. “Hallie, you got fluff on your lip.”
Her nose scrunches in confusion. “Fluff?”
I chuckle. “Whipped cream.”
Hallie’s cheeks turn pink instantly. “Oh my God.” She searches around for her napkin, but it must’ve blown off the table in the breeze. Her eyes connect with mine, full of helplessness.
Ah, hell.
Reaching across the table, I swipe the drop of whipped cream off her lip with my thumb. Then I lick my thumb clean. The whole time, Hallie barely breathes, her gaze fixed on me.
I expected her to freeze like she did when I put my arm around her before. Or maybe jerk back. But despite her stilted breathing, she hasn’t run away. I take that as a good sign.
“Um, thanks,” she squeaks.
I lean back in my chair with a grin. “Anytime.”
“Daddy, my hands aresticky,” Abbie declares. She holds her palms up, showing me how the chocolate sauce from our funnel cake has begun to act like glue between her fingers.
“Let’s go to the bathroom,” Hallie says quickly, standing from her seat. “I’ll help you wash up.”
Before I can blink, the two take off. Hallie holds Abbie’s chocolate-covered hand so she doesn’t get lost in the crowd. I busy myself with tossing our empty plates in the garbage, then start walking in the direction of the bathrooms.
Based on how quick Hallie was to jump up from the table, I spoke too soon. I thought maybe she decided to stay, for real this time, but she didn’t.
She’s still running.
EIGHT
HALLIE
ELEVEN YEARS AGO
Just as Ifinish tightening the elastic securing my hair in a half up, half down look, my phone pings on my dresser.
Clara
We’re outside!
