Until I can’t take it anymore.
“Can I ask you a question?”
He glances at me. “Okay.”
“Why do you act like you don’t know me at school?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.
“Cooper.”
“What?”
“Come on. It’s just the two of us. No excuses, no distractions. Tell me why, after we had a good time at the apple cider tea party, you went back to keeping your distance. Tell me what I did wrong. Why you have a problem with me,” I say, exasperated. “I get that I should know, okay? I feel bad that I don’t. But I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me.”
Cooper’s knuckles turn white for a second, then his grip on the steering wheel relaxes. “Okay.” He sighs. “When you left, I thought we were friends. I was mad when you ghosted me.”
“Ghosted you? What do you mean?” I ask. “If I recall correctly, we just got busy.”
“No, Ellis.Yougot busy.Youstopped calling me back and would text one-word answers. Thenone timeI didn’t want you to feel bad for completely ignoring me for a week, so I said it was okay because I had been busy that week too. And then I never heard from you again. As if me saying I was busy that one timemeant it was okay for you to just stop talking to me altogether. I was…” He takes a breath and shakes his head. “I washurt, okay? I felt like you’d been waiting for permission to forget about me. You coming back just surprised me and brought up a lot of old feelings.”
My heart sinks. “Cooper…”
He shrugs nonchalantly, but we both know it’s an act. “We were just kids.”
“We were… but I’m still sorry.” I swallow. “And even sorrier that I got too busy to realize what I was doing. I didn’t mean to ghost you.”
He glances at me then back at the road ahead. “It’s fine. Really.”
But it doesn’t feel fine. It feels like I severely messed up something special.
And the worst part is that I didn’t even miss him until I saw him again.
Ihadforgotten about him.
Cooper pulls up to Aunt Naomi’s house and turns to me. “Look, we share mutual friends, and it seems we’re going to be running into each other a lot on the weekends. So it’s not like avoiding you is really an option.” I frown, and he adds, “But, honestly, you kind of make it impossible to stay mad, anyway.” His lips slant into a seemingly sincere smile. “We’re good, Ellis. Really. Don’t worry about it.”
I nod, but I can’t look at him. I can’t offer him a smile. I hurt him enough to make him hold a grudge for the last three years. And I don’t blame him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I mumble as I climb out. “Thanks for the ride.”
“No problem.”
I watch his truck pull away, leaving me standing there, full of regret, wishing I could change the past.
I climb the steps to my room on Friday afternoon and find Mom’s painting hanging on the wall. I collapse onto my bed and study the highlights and shadows she’s added. It’s remarkable how she brought a made-up landscape to life, like fictional characters in a book, only she managed to do it in a single still image.
She started her job at the art store last week and has been painting in all her spare time. I’ve never seen her so happy. Soalive.Maybe Bramble Fallsisgood for her. Maybe this is exactly the break she needs in order to be happy at home again.
I still don’t see whyIhave to be here, though.
I roll onto my back and call Dad’s phone, sighing when he doesn’t answer, even though I figured he wouldn’t. Aside from a few texts—mostly him explaining that he’s busy and promising to call me later—I’ve barely talked to him this past week, despite mymanycalls.
I’m very well acquainted with his voicemail.
But this time I’m not giving up that easily. I dial his extension at Street Media.
“Brad Mitchell’s office,” his assistant answers.
