No matter the emotional cost to myself.
I was scared to death that by going back to the place that had witnessed the worst of who I was that I’d lose what I had worked so hard to build.
Me.
But my heart had become an irrational beast with one absolute and total focus.
Flynn Hendrick.
I flicked through the radio stations until the familiar strains of a rock ballad filled the car. The Cure had become something like a musical addiction for me after moving to Maryland.
Because every time I listened to them, I felt a little closer to the man I left behind.
Hearing the melodic rhythm ofTo Wish Impossible Thingsseemed something like an omen.
Whether good or bad was the question.
Because listening to the depressing lyrics they seemed to be a little too appropriate to how I was feeling right now.
Sheesh, Robert Smith really needed to take a happy pill. How in the hell did Flynn listen to this all the time? It was strange that I had never thought to ask him about his connection with The Cure.
There are so many things that I still didn’t know about him. And in the years since we had been together, a lot had changed. With me. With how I looked at everything.
I had busted my ass to graduate. To get the grades and to prove myself. I had even made friends. The type that didn’t hotwire a car or get knocked up by a random. And that was huge progress.
I tried to smooth out the gigantic chip on my shoulder and perhaps become something almost likable. I even started wearing makeup again; trying to look prettier. I wasn’t doing to for anyone but myself.
I couldn’t help but wonder, with a burgeoning panic, whether Flynn would fit in this new world I had created. What would he think of the girl who wore soft colored eye shadow and used her phone to actually call people she liked? Would he still care about an Ellie that had tried hard to mend the pieces that were broken inside her?
Our connection had been between two people marginalized and forgotten. Would it still be there when we became something better?
What would I do if it wasn’t?
We had seen each other so little since I had left that I couldn’t even be sure that my fears were all in my head.
When we had seen each other, it was on neutral territory. He had never made the trip to Maryland until right before I left. And I had made it very clear I wouldn’t be going back to Wellston. Not until I felt I was ready. Instead we would meet somewhere in the middle. With Flynn carefully planning everything.
Sometimes it worked and we’d have a lovely few days. Sometimes, like the first weekend we had gone to see each other, it had ended with Flynn losing his shit on the hotel receptionist.
I had finished my classes two weeks ago. I had been able to finish up a semester early, graduating in December rather than in the spring with the rest of my classmates.
That had been purposeful.
I wasn’t the type of girl to get caught up in the pomp and circumstance. I didn’t need the fancy show of putting on the cap and gown and receiving my diploma. This was about more then making a show of my accomplishments.
I didn’t want to share that moment with anyone except Flynn.
And he was there. Even if he had been freaking out the whole time.
He had been there.
It was one of the few times in my life that someone had chosen to stand by me. Julie Waterman, my social worker when I was a kid, sent flowers and a card, which I knew was heartfelt. But I had come into her life as a client. I was part of her job. I was an obligation she had, at first, been required to take on.
Flynn was there because he wanted to be. Because he cared. And that was the best reason of all.
I changed the radio station, The Cure starting to grate on my nerves a bit. I figured I’d grow weary of the constant barrage of Robert Smith vocals soon enough.
I thought back to those final weeks of school and how hard it had been for me to leave.
