“Ready?” He picked up his own bag and then reached over to mine. “Here, let me take that.”
I felt a delicious thrill as his hand lifted the strap from my back. And then I nearly passed out with happiness when he extended his hand to me. “Let’s go.”
I slid my hand into his, and he laced our fingers together, squeezing for just a minute as he gazed down at me.
We walked to his house through the unusually cold December air. This part of Georgia didn’t usually get a real cold snap until late January. But I didn’t feel anything except the warmth of Flynn’s hand against mine the whole way. We talked a little, mostly about what we wanted to do over break. There were a couple of movies Flynn wanted to see, and I’d talked Sam into driving Alex, Flynn and me into Savannah one day to see the lights and do some real shopping.
Once we got to his house, Flynn gave me a pretty gold necklace, a delicate chain from which dangled a small A. I wore it every day for four years, and I still had it, up in my jewelry box. But my real gift that day was his hand in mine as we walked.
The day after Christmas, Flynn asked me to go with him to Cary Maynard’s New Year’s Eve party. He’d held my hand the entire night, and when the clock struck midnight, Flynn Evans finally, finally kissed me.
It was worth waiting for. Totally worth it.
Over the next six months, Flynn and I were together almost constantly, or at least as constantly as our parents and school would allow. We didn’t move beyond kissing and hand-holding, since private time was hard to come by. But our kissing had gotten more involved and creative, and every now and then, his hand strayed somewhere in the vicinity of my boob. But never for long, and never close enough.
That May, my parents celebrated their twentieth wedding anniversary. They decided to drive over to Gatlinburg for a week, just the two of them, so my grandparents came up from Florida to stay with Sam and me. My brother’d groused that he didn’t need a babysitter, but my mom pacified him, saying Gram and Grampy were coming so that he didn’t have to keep his eye on me the entire time. She winked at me behind his back, though, so I knew the truth.
I actually didn’t mind having my grandparents stay with us. They liked Flynn, and as long as we didn’t interrupt their afternoon talk shows, we could sit out on the porch as long as we liked, which is why we were the first ones to see the police car pull up that day.
I knew all the local cops. There weren’t many, and in a town the size of Burton, there wasn’t much turnover. This was not someone I knew, and as I sat up, in the porch swing, pushing against Flynn’s chest, I realized it was a state police car.
My first thought was Sam, who’d stayed in town that afternoon to work on a group project. But as soon as the first trooper spoke, I knew. I just knew.
“Is this the home of Joseph and Elizabeth Reynolds?”
I couldn’t speak. My mouth moved, but no sound came out. Flynn took my hand, tight, and spoke for me. Through a loud ringing in my ear, I heard him say that yes, this was their home. My grandfather opened the door and stepped out, and after that, I didn’t remember anything. For the next week, everything was hazy and painful and too loud, and the only constant was Flynn holding my hand. He never left my side. At night, he slept next to me on my bed, waking to hold me when the nightmares made me scream.
The day of their funeral, that horrible, surreal day, Flynn sat with us in the church. At the end, when I began to cry hysterically, he pulled my face into his shoulder and whispered into my ear.
“Shhh, baby. Ali. It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll never leave you.”
Remembering that time still cut deep. And I felt not a little guilty that I hadn’t had the courage to go to Flynn’s father’s service today. No matter what had happened in the intervening years, nothing could erase my gratitude to him for his support during the darkest days of my life.
I got home, not surprised to see that Sam and Meghan were still out. I thought about taking that elusive bubble bath, but I was too restless. I wandered around the house, picking up dirty socks from Bridget’s floor, putting away the few dishes that were in the sink. But everything was too silent and too empty. It made me uneasy and antsy. I almost wished I’d stayed back at the stand.
I heard the slam of a car door and hurried into the kitchen. When the screen door opened, Meghan stepped inside, her face pinched. Sam was right behind her.
“How was it?” I knew it was a terrible thing to ask, but I couldn’t stop myself.
Meghan just shook her head and walked through the kitchen. I listened to the sound of her climbing the steps and glanced at my brother, one eyebrow raised.
Sam dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. “It was hard on her. You know, it’s only been a few years since her dad, and it’s still tough on her.”
I sat down, too. “I’m sorry. Was . . . was it very emotional?”
“It was a funeral, Ali. Yeah, it was emotional.” He ran one hand through his hair until it stood on end. “He was looking for you. Flynn was.”
Panic and something akin to hope flared inside me. “He was? How do know?”
“He kept looking over my shoulder, at the door. Like he was waiting for someone else.”
“How do you know it was me? Maybe . . . it was another classmate. Someone from his family. Or did you ever think, maybe he’s got a girlfriend and she was supposed to be there today?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “For God’s sake, Ali. I could tell. He looked at me, saw Alex and right away, he starts staring at the door. Like he’s just willing you to come through it.”
Unexpected tears filled my eyes. “It was better for me not to go. Trust me.”
“See, I don’t get that.” Sam leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table. “I remember the two of you back in high school. You were tighter than any other couple I’d ever seen. One time . . .” He rubbed his forehead and sighed. “It was the year after . . . the accident. I was coming around from the fields, and you two were on the front porch, sitting in the swing.”
