Page 91 of Unless It's You
Vivid memories of when I was here last flood my brain. My mum stopped at the halfway point, down where the crew sits right now, and I stumbled up the rest of the climb by myself, a ten-year-old boy who probably shouldn’t have been allowed to do it on his own. I was still hopeful then that she’d turned a corner, that she was going to be the mum I’d needed. I thought maybe if I was really nice to her and studied extra hard, she’d be that person.
But it wasn’t meant to be. I struggled to focus. She struggled to mother.
Could I have done something differently? Been less of a disappointment? Achieved more to capture her attention earlier? Even when I went to university and had success with rugby—which impressed most people—she was completely uninterested.
Staring at Stella’s face on top of this breathtaking mountain, clarity descends on me.
It wasn’t my fault. I was a kid.
Just like Stella’s mentee, Izzy, and my rugby boys, Leo andCallum. I would never blame them for their parents’ failing. I would never evenhintthat they should be doing anything different. That would be toxic, damaging, and simply not true.
Mum made her own decisions about how she lived her life, and nothing I did caused that. At some point, she had the right intentions—the journal entry from that abandoned notebook showed it—but she wasn’t the kind of person who could pull it off. Nothing I could’ve done would’ve changed her.
I’m lucky I had Ben and his parents to step in when she frequently stepped out. But maybe, just maybe, I don’t owe them everything. I was just a kid. I owe themsomething, but what if it’s okay for me to live my life the way I want it? What if I don’t need to carry a lifelong debt because my mum was awful, and another family helped me survive?
Stella turns to me and reaches out her hand. I take it after a heartbeat of hesitation.
What if I can have Stella?
“Ethan.” Her voice is like a gentle breeze, wrapping itself around me. “I have a few things to say.” She holds up her other hand as if I’m going to cut her off, but I haven’t even opened my mouth. “Please, let me get through this.”
I nod and swallow, my shoulders rising and falling like I’m out of breath, the warmth in my chest vibrating.
“That night. A year and a half ago.”
I clench my jaw.
“I made a huge mistake.” She reaches for my other hand, the one dangling by my side. I don’t resist, and now we’re connected in a circle, the energy flowing effortlessly between our bodies. It would take no effort at all to pull her close against me, feel her warmth, dip down to kiss her.
“I had the most fun I’d had in years with you.”
“You were drunk.” A shadow of a smile quirks across my face.
“A little.” She bites her lip, and oh, bloody hell, I want to bedoing that. “But that wasn’t it. We clicked, as if we’d been best friends all our lives. And kissing you?”
My breath catches in my throat, and I glance down at her lips, left slightly parted. I could never kiss them enough.
“What about kissing me?” My voice is raspy.
“We were a perfect fit.”
I nod, remembering that night, remembering last weekend, knowing how fucking good we are together.
“I started your bucket list,” she says simply. “And I want to tell you about it.” Stella drops one of my hands and pulls out her mobile, unlocking it with her face and tapping a few times with her thumb.
“My bucket list?” The warmth ebbing from my heart spreads out, like sweet, spilled molasses.
“Yeah.”
“I told you not to,” I say, but my protest is weak. She lifts her chin, and her blue eyes meet mine.
“I didn’t listen.” Her lips turn up into a smile. “Obviously.”
“Get on with it, then.” I swallow the suspicious lump in my throat and squeeze the hand I’m still holding.
“There are four items. Number one:Travel to America. Have a local show you around.” She has her mobile in her hand, but hasn’t broken our gaze.
From Mum’s journal. I bite my cheek to keep unwanted tears from springing up in my eyes.
