I close my eyes, reveling for a moment in his touch. “So, we can’t have next year. Or even tomorrow,” I repeat, my lip trembling a little. “But we can have tonight.”
“Lucy—”
“I mean, if you want…we could…”
“We can do whatever you want, Lucy.” His voice is soft, but strong.
“Right now, I want you to hold me.”
“Always,” he says, scooting us back and tucking our bodies under the covers. I’m not bold enough to shrug out of my pj’s. I’m not brave enough to climb on top of him. I want so badly to give all of myself to him, but that moment feels too big, like more than I can handle. And in all likelihood, our lives are going in totally separate directions. After tomorrow, we’ll probably never see each other again.
He rubs gentle circles on my back as I close my eyes. Caleb Whitman understands what I need even when I can’t say it. He gets me in a way no one ever has, which is crazy because we’re nothing alike.
But I fall asleep feeling more loved and cared for than I ever have in my entire life.
Chapter 1
Whit
Four yearslater
Summer before Junior Year of College
“Party starts at ten,so I’m picking your ass up in three hours. Are you gonna be at your folks’ by then?”
“No,” my best friend Booker says. “I’ll be at the gym. But I don’t have anything to change into, so—”
“Nuh-uh. Don’t even think about it, Book. I’ll bring you a shirt and shorts you can squeeze your fine ass into. Hell, I’ll bring you basketball shorts to house that hockey butt if I have to. But you are coming to this party. Don’t try to weasel out of it.”
“Not weaseling, honest. It’s just...who are these people again?”
I sigh as I lie back on my childhood bed and mindlessly toss a tennis ball in the air and catch it. “The party is at Cait Rawlings’s house. She graduated with Knox, and her brother Clay was a year ahead of me. And yes, you do know them. You might’ve gone to Christian school, but you didn’t get cloistered in a damn monastery—”
“I think nuns get cloistered? Or they used to?”
“Irrelevant. You’re not Catholic,” I tell him. “You’ve been to Cait’s place before. The New Year’s Eve before last, remember? Anyway, you’ll know most of the people there. Besides, it’ll do you some good to get out and let loose for a little while. I’m guessing you didn’t party too hard in Minnesota?”
He laughs. “Hardly. I ate, slept, and breathed hockey 24/7.”
“How is that different from life at school? Or even here at home?” Book’s been playing hockey since we were kids, and he’s fucking killer at it, not that his parents care. Their deal is that he can play while we’re in college, but after graduation, he has to join the family business. The guy couldn’t even enter the draft, though he’d have easily gone in the first or second round. But when the Zabeks lay down the law, Booker listens.
“Dude. Camp was awesome. I know you guys think I’m good, but you should see these guys I was playing with. The level of play was insane. They made me look like I was breaking in my first pair of skates.”
I highly doubt that, but Booker’s modest as hell. “Then you’ve earned some down time. And, dude, trust me, it’ll be great. We head back to Bainbridge in a couple days, and you start training as soon as we get there, so give yourself a minute to just chill, ok? We’re gonna have so much fun.”
“If you say so,” Book sighs, resigned to my plans. It’s always been this way. We’ve known each other since birth because our moms grew up together. I’ve always been the loud, rowdy one, and Booker colors in the lines. So, most of our friendship has consisted of me talking him into stuff, him telling me it’s a terrible idea, and then me dragging him along anyway.
“I do say so. See you in a couple hours. Do some push-ups for me.”
He laughs as we hang up, but the truth is I’ve already worked out today. And I’ve binged Netflix. And I gamed for a bit. Then I weeded my mom’s flower beds like she asked.
Being home, even for a few days, is strange. Everything’s familiar, of course—I grew up here. But it’s not quite home anymore either. I’m restless here. Well, even more restless than I am at school. Because at school, there’s always something going on, someone to hang out with, something to drown out the noise in my head. So, I’ve been doing my best to keep busy these past few days. I’ve been tearing through the list my mom made me. I’ve cooked so much that the damn freezer is full.
And I’m still bored as fuck.
I’m the type of person who has to be busy, hence the tennis ball I keep tossing in the air. If my hands aren’t moving, I’m likely asleep. And my mind? Yeah, that’s always racing. My eyes dart to my dresser, and I spot the row of pill bottles there. The prescription names and dosages have varied a bit over the years, but those meds are one of the constants in my life. I smile ruefully. I’m like that Alice girl from that movie. One pill makes me calmer; one pill helps me sleep, and one pill helps me focus.
And last winter, I screwed up my doses, took too many, and ended up in the hospital. I wasn’t trying to hurt myself; I just wasn’t being careful. I got mixed up and figured double dosing wouldn’t be a big deal.
