Maybe she’s right. Maybe I ruined her life. Maybe my existence is the reason for her pain. But none of that justifies her bitterness, and none of it means I should punish Vincent for sins that were never his.
I know she needs help. I know she’s broken. But I’m done excusing it.
I let out a long sigh as Vincent and I step out of the house, our fingers braided together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I close the door behind me and feel the click of the lock as if it seals away every small, messy secret that lives inside those walls—the whispers, the ache, the screams, the tears, the late-night confessions, the fear, the memories. For a second the quiet that follows is almost holy.
Before I can take another breath, arms wrap around me from every side—Vincent’s, Steven’s, Max’s—and then I’m airborne, their laughter booming in my ears.
“Hey!” I squeal, breathless, half-shocked and half-laughing at the same time.
“Go, Supernova!” Steven yells, grinning like a maniac as he and Max hoist me higher.
“Touch the sky!” Max adds.
Their voices knit together, bright and ridiculous and somehow exactly what I need.
From the driveway I spot faces I love: Vincent’s parents standing a little apart, Max’s dad with his hands shoved in his pockets, and my grandmother watching with that steady look she has that never quite gives anything away but says everythingyou need. Their expressions are calm, unreadable, but under that I feel something warm and steady—a quiet kind of blessing. Gratitude blooms in my chest so fierce it makes me cry a little on the inside. Gratitude that I have them. That I am not completely alone.
They toss me up again and again, and each time I fly I feel lighter, like the air itself is trying to shake the weight from my shoulders.
Laughter tears out of me—a full, unrestrained laugh that surprises me with how loud it is. It’s the first real laugh since my father died, since everything went dark. It feels foreign and brave and absolutely necessary.
Steven’s hand is solid against my hip when I come back down. Max’s grip is rough and warm. Vincent is right there, eyes bright, breath hitching in time with mine. They’re ridiculous and tender and horribly protective all at once.
“Again!” I demand, and they cheer like idiots and do it anyway.
When they set me down for good, I’m dizzy and sticky with the smell of autumn and the little ache that comes from being thrown into the air and caught by people who refuse to let you fall. I press my forehead to Vincent’s and he hums against me—a low, private sound—and for a second the world narrows to the two of us and the pulse in his throat.
Maybe happiness isn’t some faraway thing that’s vanished forever. Maybe it’s a series of tiny, ridiculous moments like this—being flung into the sky by people who love you, the sun on your face, the way your grandmother’s hand finds yours in the crowd. Maybe it’s possible to smile again, to feel something that’s not just survival but real, stupid joy.
I pull in a breath and laugh again, because I can. Because they gave me back a piece of myself I’d thought lost. Because right now, with their hands on my waist and their stupid grins,I can believe—properly, a little wildly—that being happy is something I can come back to.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Vincent Cooper
PAST (2018)
"The only way I've been able to keep my sanity is to
pull back when I feel like it's time to pull back."
Lindsey Buckingham
––––––––
When I come out of the bathroom after a shower, I find Nova rolling around in my bed, wrapped up in the sheets like some kind of burrito. My laptop’s open next to her.
“Hey, baby. What are you doing?” I chuckle, digging through the closet for clean clothes.
She props herself against the headboard, the sheet clinging to her naked body, and snatches the stereo remote from the nightstand. She presses play, and music fills the room. Today she brought me a CD she made herself with songs that remind her of me.
“I was just checking if I got any replies from colleges, but nothing yet. Did you hear anything from Seattle?”
I shake my head no. The truth is, I got the answer two days ago and already bought two one-way tickets. I want to ask her to come with Max and me after graduation—to find an apartment together, to start something real. She applied to a college in Seattle to study animal science, and I know they’ll take her. She’s worked harder than anyone, especially after the hell of the last few months.
I lean against the wall, clothes tucked under my arm, and watch her. She watches me back, mischievous, sticking out her tongue.
“Oh yeah?”
