Page 107 of Find My Way Down to You

The truth, I remind myself.

“It was a car accident,” I say. “Almost two years ago. That’s what killed him.”

With an unsteady voice, I piece together that night for him. Being nervous behind the wheel. The casual drive around London’s quiet neighborhood.

Then London himself. Hair damp from a day at the beach. His weird smile as he went on and on about UCSB. He’d planned a visit for us. It was three weeks away.

My voice goes high, breaking at the part about the red light. Tom Petty bleeding through the speakers. London had something to tell me. An unfinished discussion. But all I saw was the boy I loved, eyes as green as the traffic light.

All I saw was the other car’s headlights before the blackness swallowed me whole.

Now my vision clouds. Hot, stinging tears turn Cary into a blurred shape. “I had the green light,” I croak. “That’s the rule. I go on green. I had just passed my driver’s test. I knewthe rules.”

It didn’t matter. The other driver was texting and driving. Not paying attention.

An echo of pain reverberates through my left shoulder. I stretch it out, then continue. “I’m the reason he’s dead. He should be here.”

Not meclogs the back of my throat.

On my worst days, that’s my first thought. It should be him here. Still breathing. Living his life. Not wasting away like I am.

London’s dreams burned so brightly, while all of mine flickered out the moment he died.

I drag my arm over my eyes. “Sorry,” I say with a hiccup. “I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s been so long—”

Cary catches my jaw between his fingers. His other hand brushes curls off my forehead. He stares into my eyes and says, “You have nothing to apologize for, August.”

“I can’t help it.” I blink free more tears. “I’m sorry it hurts. I’m sorry it hasn’t stopped hurting.” I inhale shakily.“Sometimes, I’m drowning. Sometimes, I’m fine. But the tide keeps coming. It won’t stop.”

My eyes squeeze shut. I don’t open them until there are no more tears to fall.

“And I’m sorry I stole everything from him.”

I’ve never told anyone any of this. To be honest, the only person I’ve wanted to tell is London. I keep waiting for Cary to agree. Or for him to give me a pitying look like everyone does.

Poor August, he can’t get it together. He can’t move on. He’ll never be okay.

That look never comes.

Tenderly, Cary pulls me into him. He holds me. His scent is a tangle of fruity snapdragons and pomegranate in my nose. He’s warm, solid. His hand presses to my spine.

He keeps me close.

Against my ear, he whispers, “It was not your fault.”

It’s not the first time I’ve heard that. My parents. Max. The school counselor who sat me in her office to talk about what happened. They’ve all said it.

But coming from him, it’s different. Truthful.

“You have no control over what Fate decides.”

I sob-laugh into his shoulder. “I have no control overanything.”

His fingers slide across the back of my neck. Goose bumps rise in their wake. My pulse flutters. When I draw back to look at him, it’s as if I’m finally seeing him.

His thoughtful features. The care in his gaze. He’s a god. And a boy. And something much more.

Unthinking, I say, “I have no control over how I feel about you.”