The question eats at me as Cricket dozes off against my shoulder, her breathing soft and even. I could tell her now. I could confess everything and hope for the best. But what ifshe thinks I’m taking advantage? What if she needs time to heal from River before she can even consider someone new?
And there’s the bigger fear lurking underneath it all. What if I tell her and she doesn’t feel the same way? What if our kiss meant nothing to her? I could lose her completely, and that would be worse than staying silent.
I look down at her sleeping face, peaceful and beautiful in the golden light, and make a decision. I’ll wait. Not forever, but long enough so she knows I’m not just trying to fill the space River left. Long enough so that when I tell her, she’ll know I mean it. That this isn’t about timing or opportunity but about the fact that I’ve been falling in love with her all along and was just too blind to see it.
The question is… How long is long enough?
CHAPTER 32
Cricket Jenkins
Friday, December 11
I pickup a box full of Micah’s old notebooks and schoolwork, the cardboard corners digging into my palms as I navigate the stairs. The weight of it makes my arms burn, but I push through, careful not to trip as I head outside. The December air is crisp, carrying the sound of waves crashing against the shore.
Micah’s shoving a garbage bag full of hoodies into the backseat of his car, grunting with effort as he tries to wedge it between his guitar case and a box of books. He gets it settled then turns and takes the box from me, his fingers brushing mine for just a second, long enough to send that familiar electric current up my arms.
“Thanks for helping today. I know you have a ton of schoolwork to finish.”
“Of course. It’s your first big move. I wouldn’t leave you hanging.” I watch as he sets the box in the trunk, rearrangingthings to make it fit. “Besides, all the homework is from my consumer behavior class. I’ll do anything to put that off.” I make a gagging noise, and Micah laughs, the sound warm and genuine.
“You should drop that class. It’s done nothing but give you heartache.”
I shoot him a look that saysstop trying to get me to confront my fatherand turn away from him, although I know he’s right. I have to do it eventually. I want to follow my own path. But the thought of that conversation with my dad makes my stomach twist into knots.
I go back into his house, the familiar layout feeling strange now that it’s being emptied of Micah’s presence. I pass by Kiki and Tobias bringing out more boxes as I climb the stairs to his room.
When I reach the doorway, I stop and stare. There’s only one box left, sitting in the middle of the floor. The room that was so completely Micah just this morning is now stripped bare. Gone are the posters he’d tacked up, the pictures of us and his family scattered across the dresser, the guitar picks that always seemed to migrate to every surface. The walls are blank, the closet empty. Even the faint scent of his cologne is fading.
It feels like a ghost room now. A space that used to pulse with life and music and Micah’s energy, now hollow and waiting to be filled by someone else.
I pick up the last box, heavier than I expected, filled with framed photos and personal items, and look around one more time. My throat tightens. This room has been his sanctuary, the place where he wrote songs late into the night, where we watched movies together, where he held me when I cried and made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I was more than a friend to him.
But I wasn’t. I’m not.
I walk to the window and look out at the seashore, the endless stretch of sand and waves I’ve known my whole life. The beach where we would sit on a blanket and he would sing to me. The beach where I fell in love with him.
Micah is going to be a superstar. I know it with the same certainty I know the sun will rise tomorrow. He’s too talented, too special, too extraordinary not to be. His contract with Atlantic Coast Records is just the beginning. Soon he’ll be recording in Nashville, then touring, then performing in venues I can only dream of. His face will be on magazine covers. His songs will be on the radio. Women will scream his name and throw themselves at him.
And where will I be when he’s a major rock star? Still by his side, clinging to him, still wishing he would see me as a woman instead of his faithful sidekick? Still crying myself to sleep at night, knowing he’s the perfect man for me but will never love me the way I love him?
The thought crashes over me like a wave, and suddenly I can’t breathe. Tears spring to my eyes, and I furiously blink them back, my vision blurring. This is not the time to be wallowing in my self-pity. This is supposed to be a happy day. Micah’s moving into his first apartment, starting his adult life, living his dream. I should be celebrating with him, not falling apart because I’m terrified of losing him to a future in which I don’t belong.
But the tears come anyway, hot and insistent, spilling down my cheeks before I can stop them. I swipe at them angrily with the back of my hand.
“Cricket?”
I spin around to find Kiki and Tobias entering the room. Tobias’s eyes go to the box in my arms, but Kiki’s lock onto my face, and I’m sure she sees my tears.
Tobias looks around the empty space, oblivious to my distress. “Is this the last box?”
“Yeah.” My voice comes out rough and thick.
“I’ll get it,” he says, crossing the room and taking it from me. He leaves without another word, and I’m grateful he didn’t ask questions.
But Kiki stays. She comes over to me, wrapping me in a hug that smells like laundry detergent and comfort. Her arms are warm and maternal, and it makes me want to cry even harder.
“Are you okay?”
