Page 115 of For Keeps. For Always.

Eyes set on the flowing water, she shakes her head.

After a beat, she rubs a hand along her nose. “Do you think I should?”

“I don’t think you’re obligated to do anything,” I tell her honestly. “If you think it’ll bring you closure, sure. But if you think his words will only bring you more pain, then don’t give him the satisfaction.”

Standing, she brushes off the moss and twigs stuck to the back of her dress. I let her go without following, watching her determined steps as she moves toward the water.

Balancing on the river’s edge, she stares at the wrinkled envelope, her back tensed under her own scrutiny. Head tipping up to the canopy of trees above us, she fills her lungs, exhaling while letting the rigidness in her body fade away.

Her knees meet the cold, wet ground, the leaves rustling underneath her weight as she rests her ass on the balls of her feet. Picking up a stone, she holds it loosely in her palm, feeling its weight before holding the envelope in the water. Rock placed atop, she lets go, hands held up in a show of surrender as the middle of the paper folds in on itself, sailing away with the current within seconds.

I watch her, watch Derrick’s words float away. It’s poetic. Her burying his useless apology in the only place that brought her solace when he was in her life. A final fuck you, I wish I’d been man enough to give him when I was seventeen.

She watches the white piece of paper until it’s out of sight before standing on shaky legs. Not even dusting the dirt from her knees, she moves back to our rock.

“I’ve tried to call you.”

“My phone has been off.”

“I emailed too.”

“I’ve been avoiding that too.”

“Because you didn’t want to talk to me?” she asks, kneeling on our rock, close enough her knees are touching my hip.

“Because I wanted to talk to youtoomuch.”

She waits quietly, her eyes frenzied as they search my face.

“I was afraid you’d reject me again.”

“Brooks, I’m—”

“Can I say something first?”

“Okay,” she whispers.

“I wish I’d never said the horrible things I did to you.”

“I’m glad you did,” she rushes out, grabbing hold of my hand.

My brows knot heavily on my face.

“You left, and I’d never felt so empty, so alone,” she concedes. “You were right, Brooks. I wassocaught up in my fears, I was blinded to the way I was hurting you. I’m such an awful person.”

“Baby—”

“I am,” she assures me. “But that’s okay. I’m okay with acknowledging that, with accepting that. It means I can fix it. Like you said, when things are broken. . .”

“You fix them,” I finish when she doesn’t.

“It won’t be easy,” she blurts out. “But if you love me as I love you, I hope you’ll give me, giveus,”she corrects, “another chance.”

A shaky breath of laughter bubbles from my throat, and I tip my head up to the sky.

“You’re laughing.” She drops to her bottom. “Oh God. You’re laughing.”

Grabbing her face in both hands, I pull her to me, slamming my lips to hers in a long hard kiss.

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