The sun was hot against my back. The rays cut through the thin cotton of my shorts and caused my skin to prickle all the way down the back of my thighs. There was no evidence of the torrential rainstorms from the past few nights. The sun had sucked up every last drop of water, leaving only a slightly muggy weight to the air, a humidity that made my clothes stick to my skin.
Needing to get away from the direct heat, I moved to lean against the Jeep next to Daniel, shifting so that my shorts, and not my bare legs, touched the metal. “If not Pennsylvania, then where?”
“Not sure. Somewhere cool.” He smiled and flicked his eyebrows up once at me.
“Coward,” I said. “Summer is almost over. You already made it through most of the worst part. It’ll be cool and even a little chilly in nothing flat.” I snapped my fingers.
Daniel laughed like I’d meant him to, but it only made the hollow in the pit of my stomach grow.
“I was thinking I might head up north.” He told me about some friends he had in Alaska.
“Summer in Arizona and winter in Alaska.” I laughed. “You’re insane.”
“Yeah, well, anywhere I end up after this will seem—”
“Boring?”
“I was going to say easy.”
A coolish breeze blew up from behind me, signaling that summer truly was dying, and tossed my hair forward around my face. Daniel stepped toward me.
“Will you miss me?” he asked with an intensity that made me realize how important my answer was to him.
He’d seen me with Sean, so I thought he understood what I meant when I nodded. I would miss him, if the ache in my heart was any indication. But aches wouldn’t scar, aches wouldn’t shatter, aches would heal and leave something that I could think about, with, if not quite happiness, not sadness either. That’s what Daniel would leave with me.
He was watching my face, waiting for more than a nod. “I already do,” I said. I hugged him and felt his arms hold me just a hair too tightly.
He stepped back when I released him. “Will he mind if I kiss you goodbye?” Daniel nodded toward my house. Toward Sean.
He’d definitely mind. And it was good for me to realize that I wasn’t interested in kissing anyone else but the guy who’d brave heights, five a.m. runs and my paintbrush-wielding friend just to be near me. So when Daniel leaned down, it was an easy decision to shift to the left and brush a kiss on his cheek.
He smiled. “Probably for the best, huh? I am going to call you in a few years,” he said, still smiling but not looking at me. “I’ll be too late, but I’m going to call anyway.”
A part of me couldn’t help thinking that he’d always been too late.
“The stars are supposed to be really beautiful in Alaska,” I said, trying to bring back the lighter feel that had always been better for us. “You’ll get to see the aurora borealis.”
“I’ll never look at the stars without thinking of you.”
I looked away. I couldn’t give him a part of my heart to take with him, and it wasn’t fair for him to leave part of his with me.
“Or a tire jack.”
I smiled; relief and gratitude rolled into a final goodbye. “Be safe.” I wanted so much more for him, but that was all I trusted myself to say. I bit my lip when he opened his door, but then he stopped and in a second had me wrapped in a hug tighter than before. Just as quickly he let me go and climbed into his Jeep. My heart caught along with the engine, and our eyes met one last time before he drove away.
* * *
Sean was sitting on my porch swing when I walked up to my house. The sudden flutter in my heart lifted the corners of my mouth when I looked at him—when I looked at him looking at me. My smile bloomed full when I realized that for the first time, we were looking at each other in the exact same way. The way that told me his heart was fluttering too.
“Just so we’re clear,” he said, when I curled up under the arm he offered me. “I expect you to hit the next guy that tries to kiss you, present company excluded.”
“Deal,” I said. “As long as I’m the only one who gets to call you Sean-y.”
I held my eyes shut for a moment, prompting Sean to ask, “You okay?”
I hesitated for only a heartbeat before nodding. I did feel okay. Moments like this made me feel better than okay.
Daniel was gone, but he was free for the first time in his life. Dad and I weren’t going to lose each other. Ever. And when I thought of Mom—which I did, a lot—I let a few not horrible memories wade into the sludge. The good would never make up for the bad, but knowing everything meant I no longer needed to scream in her face until I went hoarse and then throw things at her until I couldn’t lift my arms anymore. Sean said that was progress. Not that either of us labored under the delusion that she’d be reentering my life in any capacity, but it was better for me not to actively hate her.
