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Picking right.

But you can’t go back. You can only stop making the mistakes you keep making.

We sat quietly while I dabbed at my eyes. “Heather’s nice,” I said, sniffling.

He grunted a reply.

“She’s not nice?” I asked.

“She is. I just don’t think it’s going to work out.”

“Why’d you bring her here, then?”

He scoffed. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m doing anything anymore.” He looked at me. “Can I get you something?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“How can I make it better?”

“It’s better with you just being here,” I said.

He studied me like he was trying to see if I was lying. I wasn’t.

“I got you some Dramamine for the ride back,” he said.

“I hate Dramamine.”

“Well, I hate that you puked. So. It’s nondrowsy.”

I rolled my eyes. “You throw up in a guy’s car one time—”

“Technically you didn’t throw up in my car. You threw up in my water bottle. You owe me a new one.”

I coughed, laughing, and he cracked a smile.

He would make me take the Dramamine.

I loved that he wouldn’t let me have my way. No, I’m not allowed to drive. No, I’m not allowed to pay. No, I’m not leaving you in a hospital waiting room while your mom’s in surgery.

Mike never told me no. That suddenly felt like a red flag now. Some people-pleasing impulse that kept him from letting me know what he truly thought or who he really was.

I hadn’t realized until now that his confidence was fake. Underneath the bravado, Mike was fragile and insecure—and that was fine. It’s okay to be vulnerable. But he was never vulnerable in front of me like he should be. He never allowed me to help him or understand him. He dodged the questions I asked and frosted over who he was and what he needed.

No wonder I never could be sure about him. I didn’t even know him.

Maybe he didn’t even know himself.

Chris stared out at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf full of games. “We used to watch movies in here when we were kids,” he said absently. “The adults got the living room. When I started coming up here, all they had were VHS tapes and only two movies: Faces of Death and Anne of Green Gables.”

“That’s quite the selection…” I said.

“Yeah. Then we got a Ouija board and summoned demons in Mike’s room.”

“Ha.” I peered at him. “So this place was the scene of the crime, huh? The deer assault that led to a lifetime of PTSD?”

He let out a sigh. “You’d think I would be over it by now.”

“Time changes things, it doesn’t change people. People have to change themselves.”