Me: I am. Now tell me what to do.
Roman: Lucca…
Me: Maggie might have said it.
Zev: Oh boy.
Roman: Dang.
Callum: What did she say exactly?
Me: She asked me to come over. All good. Then she ended with, “We need to talk.”
Spilling my guts leaves me with thinking bubbles from all three of my friends.
Roman: Stella says she could just want to talk.
Zev: Rosalie says yes, she wants to talk, and it’s not going to be pretty. Sorry, bro.
Callum: Did he really need to know that? We all know that. But you didn’t have to say that to him.
Me: You’re kidding, right? No hope at all?
Callum: There’salways hope.
Callum: Fran says when you get back, come over. She’s leaving to buy cookies and cream ice cream this very second.
My favorite. Fran’s buying my favorite ice cream. That feels significant.
Roman: We’re here for you, Lucca. Let us know when you get back.
They all think I’m headed toward the end. Every one of them. Even optimistic Callum and gentle Zev.
I stand in the doorway of my apartment, torn between not wanting to move and wanting to talk to Maggie. There’s so much more I want to say—and in person.
So, I pick up my feet and head out the door. She’s waiting for me. What choice do I have?
I’m tooanxious and my foot is too heavy. I make it to Canyon Falls in thirty-one minutes. I pull up to Maggie’s house, and before I can think too much about what she wants to say, I remind myself of what I want to discuss. I want to talk, too—and none of it’s bad.
I pound on the front door, pain shooting through the knuckles of my right hand.
Gordon opens up and grins at the sight of me. “Lucca!” he says. “I just got a package. You’re gonna want to see this. Have you heard of Evander Holyfield?”
I set both hands on the man’s shoulders, heart pounding. “Gordon, I want to see whatever weird, wacky thing you’ve ordered off the internet. I do. But I need to seeMaggie first. Okay?”
“Sure. Come in, son. She’s downstairs in her room.”
I push past Gordon and speed through the McCraes’ front room to their basement stairs. I know where Maggie’s room is, and I’m too amped up to worry about the consequences of just barging in.
I trot down the stairs, thankfully not running into anyone else in the family. Without even a knock, I twist the knob on Maggie’s door and step inside. She’s barefoot, in sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt. Her hair is on top of her head with strings falling about her face. She’s a vision. And I’ve no doubt of the feelings I’m having or the choices I’ve made.
I charge over to her.
“I was just about to change?—”
But I cut her off, scooping one arm around her back, pulling her against me, my opposite hand cupping the back of her head. I press one hard kiss to her mouth. “This is worth it,” I say. “We are worth the risk. And I’ll never forgive myself if we don’t take the chance.”
Her eyes turn to slits. “Finished?”
