Page 64 of Grief & Glitter

“I have more words.”

“I’m sure.”

“Most of them are fuck.”

“Poet.”

I kissed the top of his head. His phone chimed again, and he groaned. “Now that’ll be Dad’s nightly check-in.”

“You should tell him your news.”

“In a minute.”

“You said five minutes about twenty minutes ago.”

“I got distracted.”

“Sorry.”

“You are absolutely not sorry.”

“No.”

He laughed softly. Tomorrow we’d go home. For years that word had meant Michigan: Dad’s house, Ethan’s photo, the lake, everything I’d lost. Tomorrow I’d leave here with my father expecting me to call him, with Noah expecting to see me again. Not someday, not at another strained family breakfast. Again. I’d leave knowing Ethan died. Not because of me, not because of Dad, not even because Noah had said something cruel and stupid. He died. I hated it, and I always would. But maybe we should all stop dying with him.

Ryan shifted against me. “I really got in.”

I smiled into his hair. “You really did.”

“Beauty school.”

“Yep.”

“I’m going to be fucking fabulous.”

“You already are.”

He lifted his head, stared at me for a second, then smiled. “You’re getting dangerously good at this boyfriend thing, Tufty.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Never going to stop.”

I rolled him beneath me, and he laughed, arms going around my neck. “I love you, Ryan.”

He blinked at me, and for a second I wondered if I’d gone too far, too fast. Then he smiled so damn hard I knew I’d said something right.

“I love you so much, big man,” he said, and we kissed and repeated it over and over.

Tomorrow we might be going home, but I knew exactly where home really was.

Wherever Ryan was.

Chapter 19

Ryan

In case anyone should ever ask what the best music to sharpen skates to is, it’s metal.