Page 105 of A Thousand Second Chances

I hesitate, checking the time. It’ll be a bit tight, but we should be able to make it back before noon. I start toward the door. “Come on.”

“Wait, where are you going?” he calls after me.

I glance over my shoulder and raise an eyebrow. “Friendship’s Altar. Where else?”

He blinks, staring at me long enough that I start to wonder if I’ve made a mistake. Then, his face breaks out into a radiant grin that steals my breath. “Just give me a minute to get changed.”

It’s a peaceful walk through the forest to reach the familiar clearing. As soon as we do, Percy hurries to the hunk of limestone and crouches to study its base. I move up beside him right as he pauses near the small marks I’d made yesterday.

“Found them!” he exclaims. He runs his fingers over the etched stone, his face a mix of sorrow and something resembling awe. “I can’t believe they survived all these years.”

I let out a breath and rub the back of my neck. “Actually, they didn’t.”

He looks up, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean? They’re right here.” He taps the side of the rock with his fingertips. “R & L for Robert and Lizzie.”

Maybe I should’ve let him believe the lie, but I don’t want to risk ruining this new openness between us. He deserves the truth.

I stare down at the fallen leaves, worried about his reaction. “I came out here yesterday and checked. When I couldn’t find them, I pried a nail out of the post and carved them myself. It’s a bit crude, and I dunno if it matches how it originally looked, but—”

I cut off in shock as Percy nearly tackles me in a fierce hug. “Thanks, Chris.” He rests his head on my shoulder. “You’re the best.”

For all that everything had gone right and we’d broken free from our infinite Saturday, I can’t fully stifle the sense of loss that tightens my gut. I close my eyes, relishing the feel of him against me for what might be the last time.

“Anything for you.”

forty-two

Percy

I choose the sameseat alone near the front of the ferry’s top deck where I can stare out over the sparkling waters of Lake Huron. Chris and Quinn had invited me to sit with them, but this had felt more fitting. Both for the symmetry of it—returning to where everything began—and to get some much-needed distance so I could think.

So much has happened since that first tearful goodbye with my dad Friday night. Only one day might’ve passed for Quinn and everyone else, but for Chris and me, it feels like a whole lifetime has gone by. We’ve somehow transitioned from enemies and jilted ex-lovers, to reluctant allies, to friends with benefits, to…well, honestly, I don’t know exactlywhatwe are now.

That’s a huge part of why I’m sitting up here by myself rather than with him and Quinn a few rows back. Are we still friends now that the loop has ended? Maybe. I’d like to think we’ve grown close enough for that much, at least, to hold true. But Chris made it plain he’s interested in more. And from the waymy stomach ties itself in knots every time I catch a glimpse of him from the corner of my eye, it’s hard to deny I am as well.

Chris’ low chuckle echoes from somewhere behind me, the sound alone enough to warm me from the chill air. Yeah, I’m not surefriendssits right, either. But if not that, then…

I think of Owen, so afraid to be himself. So certain no one would accept him for who he is. I’d said a tearful goodbye to both him and Carol before we’d left Mackinac Island, promising to keep in better touch. And while Chris and I had left it up to Owen to decide when and how much he wanted to open up to his mom, we’d returned the pistol and told her enough to ensure he got the help he needed. From what we could gather of their heart-to-heart last night, he’s already off to a good start.

Owen had seen only the worst in himself. What had brought him to that point? It must have been more than him thinking I’d ghosted him. Had bullies at his school hurt him that badly? Or perhaps that’s thinking too simplistically. Maybe it hadn’t been any one thing in particular but a thousand tiny things, each little pressure or disappointment compounding until it collectively became too much.

I can certainly empathize.

My thoughts turn to my own dad and his constant encouragement. My mom and her sweet smile—her enthusiasm for life. That had been one of the worst parts about watching her waste away in that hospital bed near the end. Her failing body had no longer been able to live up to that vital spark inside her.

This morning before we left, I’d told Chris I think she’d be proud of me. At the time, I’d meant it, but I’m no longer so sure. Not when I’m too afraid to seize the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own insecurities that I’ve adhered to the letter of the promise I made my mom while ignoring its essence.

It hadn’t been the details that mattered to her—the wife and the kids and the white picket fence. It had been what they signified. She wouldn’t want me hiding from the world, especially when I’m using devotion to her memory as an excuse. All she’d wanted was for me to be happy. And that means I need to be brave enough to seek happiness out instead of sitting back and waiting for the universe to hand it to me on a silver platter.

If you still feel like this when we escape the time loop—if you can prove to me that I matter when you know it counts—then maybe. But not until then.

A cold wind billows over the boat, ruffling my hair, and suddenly, I know what I have to do. I jerk to my feet, scooting down the aisle to slide onto the bench beside Chris.

He gives me a questioning look. “What’s up, Perce?”

On his other side, Quinn meets my eyes and smiles. I swallow, the easy welcome in her expression somehow giving me the last drop of courage I need.

Chris is frowning at me now, his eyes narrowing. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, I lean in and kiss him. It’s far from our most passionate kiss—how can it be when he’s still sitting there, frozen in shock? But I make sure to hold it long enough for him to realize I’m serious and start to melt into it before I pull back, panting.