“Staring off into space like you’re dissociating right in front of me. Are you drunk?”
“No.” I chuckle. She has no idea how insane this is making me. It’s like the night air is some kind of crazy truth serum, and I’m incapable of lying. “I keep having all these flashbacks of us. It’s crazy to see you again.”
“Well, you saw me.” She shifts her weight, pivoting toward her house. Her voice drops into sarcasm as she calls over her shoulder, “I just remembered I need to go walk my pet fish.”
I snort because she’s still the same Koren. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body, and that’s her way of telling me to get lost. It doesn’t upset me; it only makes me shake my head and smirk. Her hand finds the door handle, and she’s about to stride inside.
I say what I’ve wanted to say for three hundred and seventy-six days: “I still love you.”
She freezes just as I knew she would. She’s probably convincing herself that she heard an owl or a frog croaking outweird noises. Just to assure her, I say it again, more forcefully. “I love you, Koren.”
I climb the old creaking wood steps, slow and deliberate, one step at a time. Moonlight fires back from her eyes. I slide in beside her, making my intentions clear.
Her lips part.
I pause, waiting for her to scream. She doesn’t. Our lips crash together—not tender, not cautious. It’s days of anger and heartbreak condensed into one kiss. Her hands find the back of my neck. My knees shake when she lets me wrap my arms around her waist again. Like last summer.
Only different from last summer.
Now we understand what we lost.
When we break apart, breathless, her forehead presses to mine. I lose all my chill and plead, “Tell me this still means something.”
Her hand slides down my neck, settling on my chest. I grab it, press it to my heart, and say it again because I need to hear it back: “I love you.”
She exhales, pulling her hand away like I’d wounded it. “I can’t do this again. I can’t fall for you and lose you again. Sorry, this is a mistake.”
I flinch with an immediate rebuttal. “It won’t happen like that.”
It is too late. She’s already slipped from my arms and storming into the house. I fight the urge to call after her, to fight for her like she asked. My gaze flies to my nosey neighbor’s window. Her house is dark. Maybe I should be more polite, but my heart is hammering in my chest.
I fly forward, pound on her door, and scream, “Koren, you have to come back! We can’t leave it like this. We have to talk.” I pound as hard as I can.
An upstairs light switches on, and her mom opens a window. “Elijah, knock it off. Bella is sleeping.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Roberts.” I swallow, pride burning on the way down. I step back, knowing this one time—for the sake of her family—I’ll be quiet. After all, it’s the eve of Kaci’s wedding, and I don’t want to ruin it. As I walk away, I brush my fingers over my lips, still tingling from her lips on mine. Just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean I’m quitting. She asked me to fight. She’d better be prepared.
If anything, tonight reminded me of everything I lost. I won’t stop until she’s mine again.
nine
Koren
I lay awake all night, imagining how puffy my eyes will be in the morning. Of all the days to reunite with Elijah, of course it had to be right before my sister’s wedding. My whole family is in town.
Professional photos will be taken.
I can’t stop crying.
How am I supposed to stand up in front of a church congregation and be happy tomorrow?
The sun hasn't fully committed to rising, but I drag myself out of bed and drive twenty minutes back into town to the flower shop, determined to triple-check that everything is perfect. I’m happy to have something to do as it keeps my mind busy.
I’m bringing the last of the bouquets out of the back cooler when the bell above the door jingles. Kaci, bride-to-be, walks in wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt with two to-go coffee cups in her hands.
“I brought coffee, and an open ear.” She sets the coffee on the counter.
“I’ll pass on the ear.” Keeping my focus on my bouquets, I recount the blooms to make sure each bouquet has the same number. Something’s off. Three bouquets are missing the Fire and Ice roses. They are empty bundles of lilacs and ribbon. Lu, the part-time gal who closed last night, was supposed to finish these.
