“I needed you to know that I wasn’t just changing because of you. I needed to change for me too.”
“I don’t understand.”
He gets up and wanders over to the window, peering out with his hands in his pockets. He was standing the same way after he took me to the hospital. With rows of parked cars on the street outside my apartment building, it’s not much of a view, yet he peers down as if those quiet streets hold the answers to the meaning of life.
“For years, I told myself I was nothing like my dad. I thought I was better than him, and maybe, in some ways, I am. But the second, the verysecondI thought you might be the enemy, I turned into him.” He turns from my window and looks at me, gray-blue eyes haunted and sad. But surprisingly determined. “I never want to be anything like him. He destroyed my mother, nearly destroyed me, and I did the same thing to you. Even if you can’t forgive me, the work on this building continues. Torin, Archer, and I are trying to do the right thing instead of turning into the parents we hate.”
I chew my lip as he waits for my response.
“Lucia, my next-door neighbor’s first real boyfriend broke her heart, so she keyed his brand new car. It was really expensive, which is why he tried to get her arrested for criminal damage.”
“You want to key my car?” He furrows his brow. “It’s not that expensive or brand new, but I guess you could…”
I’m not sure why the thought of him standing silently beside me while I key his car in a mad fury is so funny, but my smile makes Callum's voice trail off.
“What is it?” he asks, his own lips turning up.
I shake my head. “Nothing. I wouldn’t want to key your car, even if it were expensive. Lucia said she called her best friends over for Chinese food and a movie that would make them all cry. Nothing helped her feel better than that. I don’t know why Chinese food that gave them all food poisoning the next day, and a terrible movie they all hated became a memory she says she’ll cackle about when she’s gray-haired and old, but I’d like to try it.”
His eyebrow shoots up. “Food poisoning?”
I look away so he won’t see my smile. He’s so confused and has no clue what I’m rambling about, but is still determined to give me what I want. Even if it’s food poisoning. “Chinese food and a shitty movie we’ll all hate.”
When he doesn’t respond, I peek up at him through my lashes.
He’s not smiling, but there’s a little less tension in his shoulders than there was a second ago. “If that’s a memory you want, then we’ll give it to you.” He frowns. “Though I’m going to be honest, I’m not looking forward to the possibility of giving you food poisoning, even accidentally.”
I ponder what could be the first step to letting him back into my life when I’m not sure if I should. “This doesn’t mean I trust you or forgive you.”
“Trust is slow to build. When you’re ready, and only when you’re ready, let me know when you want this new memory to happen. One month or even ten years from now.” He holds my gaze. “I’ll wait forever for you, Juniper.”
“Okay.”
He pulls his hands from his pockets and turns to leave, then stops. “I didn’t want to bring this up because I know it will upset you, but this feels too important not to ask. I have a question.”
Curious, I cock my head. “What’s the question?”
He walks over to me and sits on the edge of the coffee table with his palms flat on his thighs. His expression is so serious that I worry. “The day you left us, you said something about a book.”
Wiping all expression from my face, I get up, more upset than I thought I would be. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Your expression says it matters a lot.”
With the comforter—and sheet—wrapped around my shoulders, I wander over to the same window Callum was standing at, and I lean against it, debating if I want to tell him.
Then I turn around, hugging my comforter. There’s a draught from these old windows, but that isn’t why. I hug my comforter not knowing if I have a sister alive to hug. “When we were kids, I used to crawl into my sister’s bed with her and read her my favorite book. We had a nanny we both loved, and she did read to us before bed, but when it was late, it didn’t seem fair to wake her up because she already worked so hard. Our parents expected a lot of her. Andrea did those things, and more, because she loved us.”
“You brought the book with you?” Callum asks, his expression impossible to read.
“The Secret Gardenwas my favorite book before it became River’s. I gave it to her when I left for Haven Academy, and she gave it back to me when I was packing my stuff to go to yourhouse. She said that if I were ever homesick or I couldn’t sleep at night, I’d have it to remember her by.”
“What happened to the book?” His voice is quiet.
“You know what happened to the book.” My voice isnotquiet. It’s hard. It vibrates with pain and anger. So much that I can’t even look at him.
I turn to peer out of my window. A man in a suit is hurrying down the street, probably to work. I called in sick yesterday and told my boss I didn’t think I’d be well enough to go in today, but at some point, I do have to call him. Right now, I can’t find it in me to care.
The creak of the wooden coffee table warns me that Callum is standing. The soft squeak of the floorboards is a sign he’s moving toward me. He stops beside me, hands in his pockets, eyes pointed outside, and our shoulders almost brushing.
