Page 94 of A Thousand Second Chances

“Oh.”God, is it really that late?I must’ve spent a couple hours since the sunset literally staring at nothing while my mind wandered. That doesn’t seem like a good sign for my current mental health. “Thank you. That’s very kind. I’m doing all right. Feeling much better.”

She nods but remains in the doorway, not making any move to leave.Am I supposed to invite her in?There’s not exactly a lot of space to sit and comfortably talk, and I have no idea what I’d say anyway.

“This really is a beautiful island,” she remarks out of the blue. “A truly splendid collection of natural geological formations coupled with a quaint, artistic aesthetic and a good deal of historical memorabilia.” Her lips quirk upward. “Not to mention the unbeatable fudge.”

I chuckle dutifully. “My family used to bring literal cartons of that stuff back home with us after every trip. It’d take us months to eat our way through it all.”

Something flickers over Oshkoff’s face. On anyone else, I might’ve called it sympathy. “It is never easy losing someone you love,” she offers, and I instinctively tense. I hadn’t been sure how much she knew about my mom. My dad must’ve told her or someone else at the university. Maybe he’d even asked her to keep an eye on me this weekend.

“It’s like they leave this hole in your life behind,” she continues. “One that’s up to you to fill. Grief is important. It helps us mourn. Move on. But eventually, if left alone too long,it starts to fester and grow toxic. It taints the things that remind us of what we’ve lost until we think we must lose them, too.” She raises a hand before dropping it, like she’d considered patting me on the back but then thought better of it. “I’ve been there myself,” she says softly.

From the pain in her eyes, I can tell she’s sincere, and I wonder fleetingly who she’d lost. A parent? A lover? God forbid, a child?

“Do not let the grief win,” she continues. “Hang on to the things that matter to you—the things that bring you joy. The best way to honor and remember what you have lost is to show the universe that it cannot break you. Take that grief and use it as fertilizer to grow something better.”

How many times have I teared up today? I’m not sure, but at this point, I’m beginning to reel from emotional whiplash. “Thank you, professor.”

She clears her throat, and her voice comes out gruff. “Yes. Well. That was all I wanted to say. Goodnight, Mr. Wentworth.”

As her footsteps retreat down the hall, I stare at the closed door she’d left in her wake. I hadn’t had many interactions with her in past cycles—mostly attempts to trick her into excusing us from the officially sanctioned activities or else listening to her chew us out for being irresponsible. But I’m beginning to think I’d misjudged her.

Maybe even as badly as I’d misjudged myself.

Now that Oshkoff is gone, I catch the clear sound of others in the hall outside, either returning to their rooms or else preparing to head out again and hit the town. The urge to peek out and try to sneak a glimpse of Chris is almost overwhelming. But what if he dismisses or ignores me like he did at the start? That had hurt badly enough before we’d reconnected. Dealing with his apathy now after everything we’ve been through might break me.

Oshkoff’s mantra to hang on tight to the things that matter echoes through my head, along with Carol’s earlier claim that allmy mom had wanted was for me to be happy. I think of that gay couple at Sunset Rock, so obviously in love and unafraid to show it. My grip tightens on the doorknob. So what if Chris doesn’t want to see me?Iwant to seehim. And for once, I’m going to do something not because of my fear but in spite of it.

I throw open my door, intending to stride straight out, and freeze. Chris is standing directly on the other side, hand half-raised to knock. He stares at me with wide eyes. Not in disgust or hate like I’d feared. If anything, he looks…guilty?

“W-what…?” I stammer.

Chris shifts from foot to foot, staring at the floor. He reaches up to absently swipe his bangs out of his eyes. “Can I come in? I’ve been working up the courage to knock for a couple minutes now, and if Quinn sees me, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

He’sbeen working up the courage? Struggling to make sense of his sudden appearance, I step out of the way and allow him to slip inside. I shut the door and pad over to my bed, lowering myself on unsteady legs. Disappointment bears down on me when Chris opts for the chair by the desk instead of sitting beside me, even as I tell myself that it’s for the best.

Tension hangs in the air as neither of us speaks. Finally, he sighs and sweeps a hand through his black hair. The familiar gesture sends a flutter through my chest.

“So, I think I owe you an apology,” he begins.

I blink, still feeling like I’m missing something. “An…apology?”

He jerks a nod, fiddling with something on the desk beside him. “I stand by the decision I made at Huron Blue,” he begins. “It was the right call for both of us. But that doesn’t mean it was fair of me to push so hard for you to come out when you weren’t ready, or to blame you for how everything ended up.” His face flushes as he continues staring pointedly at the floor. “It turns out I’ve got plenty of my own issues to work through.”

My body itches to erase the distance between us—to take his hand, wrap him in an embrace, and press my lips to his. But that wouldn’t be healthy for either of us. He’s trying to move on, and this apology is part of that. I can’t burden him with my own confusion over what I want, especially when I haven’t figured that out yet. I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep.

So, instead of rushing to him, I shuffle awkwardly on the bed and say, “I’m sorry, too. Sorry for causing you so much pain, even if I never meant to. For…for not being more decisive. For pulling away and not being a better friend to you when you needed me most.” I take a steadying breath. “But I’m done running away. No matter what happens next or how many damn Saturdays we have to repeat, I’ll be here for you—as a friend. That much, I can promise.”

His head jerks up sharply, and it turns out there’s no need for me to go to him because he comes tome.The way he holds me tight, cradling my head to his chest, isn’t the passionate embrace of lovers. It’s the desperate grasp of two people clinging to stay afloat.

I close my eyes, relishing the feel of him against me. God, I’ve missed this. More even than I’ve let myself realize until I have him in my arms once again. And the only thought that keeps looping through my head ishow could I have ever willingly let this go?

The contact is over too soon, Chris pulling away to sit beside me. I resist the urge to tug him back, biting my lip as I study his flushed face.

He gives me a lopsided grin that plucks at my heart. “I missed you.”

My answering smile feels almost foreign after the last couple weeks. “Same.” I hesitate, then decide to give voice to my question. No more holding back—not with him. “You mentioned working through some of your own problems?”

He grimaces. “Yeah, you could say that. I spoke with Devon earlier, and—surprise!—it turns out he and the rest of the guys on the team always had my back. They just thought I didn’t have theirs. I was so worried about them treating me differently that I isolated myself first. Apparently, that’s a thing I do—distance myself from people before they can let me down.”