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“Okay, good, Stell. Good.” His voice is low and soothing, almost the crooning singing voice he uses on stage. It’s late September, and while most days are still pretty warm, at night, it starts to get cool like it is now.
“I love you,” he says.
“I love you too,” I whisper.
“It’s going to be okay.”
“I know,” I say, and suddenly, I do know that. I do know that everything will be okay. I’ll be okay, and we’ll be okay. I made the right decision.
“I’m gonna stay on the line, okay? But I’m driving, so you’re on speaker in the passenger seat.”
“Okay,” I say, my voice small and unlike me. Normally, I’d give him shit about talking to me while he’s driving or about how he really needs a new truck that has Bluetooth, but I don’t have it in me. Not at all.
It doesn’t take long before he’s here, and I hear his truck before I see it, but still, relief washes through me.
God, I feel sweet fucking relief at seeing him. I step up to the curb to get in, but before I can even open the door, he’s parking on the side of the road, stepping out, and jogging around the front of the truck, pulling me into his arms.
I lose it finally, sobbing into his tee shirt (hedid not grab a jacket or sweatshirt before leaving, it seems) as I remember everything that just happened, the cruel, angry words my mother spit out, the way my father just watched, the way I begged her to understand.
The ultimatum.
“It’s okay, Stell. You’re going to be okay.” He sounds scared, and it’s probably because he’s never seen me like this, a mess, sobbing and miserable. I’ve made it my mission to be the happy one to Riggins, who has lived with grief and sadness enough as it is.
He’s never seen me cry, not when my mother told me my entire life that crying makes you weak, that crying is for babies, not strong women who want to do something with their lives.
“She—she—she—” I start, trying to get air into my lungs to explain.
“I can put the pieces together,” he coos into my hair. Feeling his warmth around me, his strength, smelling him, his voice rumbling against my crying face, I start to calm, the way I always do around Riggins.
I’ve always had an imbalance of some sort for as long as I can remember. I’d get sad for no reason, and it would last a bit before I’d feel good again. Once, my mother took me to the doctor, but when it wasn’t an easy,here, take this antibiotic, and she’ll be good in two weeks, my mother decided to ignore the diagnosis altogether.
But even when I feel the wave of my sadness creeping up, if I’m wrapped in him, I know I’ll be okay.
It’s always been that way. Just… more lately. More since he becamemine.
That simple reminder has the last of my hiccups slowing.
“She kicked me out,” I whisper into his chest. “I told her we were together and I was going on tour with you. She told me I wasn’t welcome there anymore.”
I don’t know why my mother hates Riggs so much or why she hates his family so much, but the violence with how she spoke to me in the kitchen of our home was still a surprise.
“You’ll move in with me,” he whispers.
“You don’t have to—” I start, but he pulls back, his hands on my shoulders, his eyes locked on mine.
“Are you mine?”
“What?”
“Are you mine? We haven’t talked about what happened at the bonfire, but Stell, to me, you’re mine now.”
“Your…. Your girlfriend?” I ask, my pulse racing again but for a different reason now. It’s been two weeks since the bonfire, and while we’ve had small kisses and held hands and been some new version ofus, we haven’t talked about what it meant, and we definitely haven’t done more, despite how much my entire soul wants to.
“You’re my everything, Stella. But yeah, for right now, we can call you my girlfriend.”
I can’t help it. Even though the rest of my life feels like it’s crumbling, I smile. I smilebig.
Because after a lifetime of being head over heels in love with my best friend, he’s now myboyfriend.
