Page 115 of Collide
She shakes her head as I brush her hair away from her face.
I think for a minute. “Your dad?”
Her bottom lip quivers. Then she does it again—that thing where she notices my concern, and becomes a vault. She pulls away, sitting stiffly as she wipes her flowing tears. “I don’t know why I came here.” She sees my open laptop and textbook. “You’re obviously busy.”
“I’m never too busy for you.”
Drowning brown eyes search my face before she exhales a deep breath, standing to pace by my bed. “How many times can you beg someone to love you?”
The heavy weight on my chest grows, making it hard to breathe. I follow, wrapping her in my arms again.
“It’s the one thing a parent is supposed to do. The only thing he had to do.” Her words muffle in my shirt.
“He does, Summer. It would be impossible not to.”
“But why is it according to his timeline? When he’s ready, I have to accept him with open arms as if my happiness depends on his willingness.” She sobs again. “It’s not fair.”
“I know, baby.” I rub her back, letting her cry it out. “I know.”
She inhales a broken breath. “I told myself I’d never get there again. I thought I was over it. But one fucking talk with him, and it hurts the same.”
Everything in me wants to run into action mode. To figure out how to help and make the tears stop flowing. Her puffy eyes and tiny red nose prick at me, and I have the urge to call her dad. Which is something I never thought I’d do because Lukas Preston, as much of an inspiration as he is, is one scary motherfucker.
Not wanting to self-insert, I opt for just listening to her.
Summer aggressively wipes her cheeks. “I feel so stupid for crying about this.”
“Don’t.” I hand her a tissue. “It’s been so long, you’re bound to have a reaction.”
She wipes her eyes, and her expression turns regretful. “I think I might have said too much. He looked really hurt, Aiden.”
“And what I’m seeing right now is that you’re really hurt. That’s not okay, Summer. You don’t deserve to be treated like this, and I won’t let you feel bad for finally saying what’s on your mind. Tell me you understand that.”
Her eyes drop to my chest, and she toys with the strings of my hoodie.
I lift her chin, not letting her get away with taking the blame for this. “He hurt you, and for the first time, you didn’t bottle it up. Be proud of yourself because I am.”
She blinks away a tear. “I am, and I know it was right for me. But I can still feel bad about it.”
This girl is fucking sunshine embodied, and she has no clue. “Of course you can. It’s who you are. You’re kind and compassionate. And a little stubborn.”
She hiccups and hits my chest, only to have tears follow immediately after.
“Come on, I’ll make you some tea, and then we can lie down.”
LAST WINTER ELI’S family invited me on their annual trip to Whistler. The Westbrooks own a cabin up north that can accommodate a small village. We did every winter-related activity up there, including hockey on the secluded frozen pond and helicopter excursions. But the most memorable—and terrifying—part of that trip was The Coffin Ski Run which felt like plummeting into an unknown abyss at sixty miles an hour.
That’s how it feels to hold Summer in my arms.
She fell asleep a few hours ago after fighting her hardest to stay awake. We talked about everything from our first pet—hers, a goldfish named Iggy, and mine, a cat named Benji—to our life’s philosophy, which wasn’t that concise considering one of us was half asleep. Pins jammed my chest at the sight of her droopy eyes and slurred responses, as she tried her absolute damnedest to stay up because she said she liked the sound of my voice.
I don’t think she meant to say it, or that she would have ever said it if she was fully conscious. But I know it’s the truth and damn, does it feel good. I’ll be her white noise machine as long as I live if that’s what she wants.
The terrifying feeling, though—that’s what keeps me wide awake. Because just before Summer knocked out, she whispered, “I forgot how much you feel like home.”
Home. She thinks I feel like home.
There’s no way I can sleep after that. Summer trusts me. She doesn’t trust a lot of people, so the pressure feels like I might collapse beneath it. Which is uncharacteristic of me, because I’m used to pressure. I’m the fucking captain for Christ’s sake. The entire school relies on me. Everyone relies on me. But this feels different.
