Page 58 of Here We Go Again

“It doesn’t feel fair,” Becca said back then. We were sitting in the bed of my truck, parked in the empty high school parking lot right next to the stadium. I was leaving the next morning for a hockey tournament in New York, so I’d driven over to see her to say goodbye. She’d barreled into the driveway and climbed into the truck, asking me to just take her somewhere. Anywhere.

So we got milkshakes and drove to the school, where I knew we’d have a good view of the stars as soon as they came out.

“It isn’t fair,” I said, arm folded under my head. “Stuff like this never is.”

She rolled toward me, tucking herself into my side and resting her head on my chest. I wrapped my free arm around her. “I just can’t lose them both. What if I lose my mom and my grandma? I mean, I know I will eventually, but I’m not ready for that. I’m not even ready to think about it.”

“Your mom is going to be fine,” I said. “She’s tough. Her life might not be the same, but she’ll figure out a new normal.”

“Yeah, maybe. But … I don’t know. It just feels like it’s making me grow up faster than I want. Faster than I know how. I don’t want anything to change.”

I lean down and kiss her forehead. “Some things won’t ever change.”

She lifts her head and props her chin on my chest. “Are you sure?”

And that’s when I said those words. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” It was only a year later that I broke that promise in the worst possible way.

I have to wonder if those words just triggered the same memory for her that they did for me.

The captain’s voice sounds over the intercom, apologizing for the turbulence and announcing we’ve found smoother air, so the rest of the flight should be just fine.

Becca’s shoulders drop, then she tugs her hands out of mine. “Thanks,” she says softly.

“No problem.”

She’s quiet for a beat before she asks, “Should we discuss how conniving our mothers are?”

I run a hand over the stubble I didn’t shave this morning before leaving for the airport.

“Do they even know we’ve been back in touch?” she asks. “Have you said anything to your mom?”

“After the MS Walk,” I say. “She saw pictures online. There’s one of the two of us during the water hose thing, so she had some questions.”

A blush climbs up Becca’s cheeks, which makes me think she knows exactly what picture I’m talking about. My arms are around her in the photo, and I’ve picked her up from behind as I spin us into the spray of water. She’s laughing, hands gripping my forearms, and I’ve got an enormous smile on my face.

To anyone on the outside, we definitely look like a couple.

“Right,” Becca says. “That was probably all the motivation they needed to start meddling.”

“Have you talked to your mom about … us? Or … me, I guess.”

“Also after the MS Walk,” she says. “She didn’t mention the photo, but I’m sure your mom shared it with her.”

“Do your parents…?” I start to ask, but then I pause, suddenly nervous to finish my question. I’m not sure I want to know the answer.

“Do my parents what?” she asks.

I clear my throat. “I was just … curious how they feel about me. I imagine after what happened, they aren’t my biggest fans.”

She bites her lip. “I wondered the same thing when we first reconnected. But I don’t think they blame you. Clearly,” she says, motioning to the plane around us. “I doubt we’d be here if they did.”

“So what, do we think they just … lied? To get us on the same trip?”

“Honestly, I should have seen the signs,” Becca says. “My dad is not the kind of guy who just forgets to take off work. He loves planning trips almost as much as he loves spending time with my mom.”

“Does that mean my mom made up a guy? Is she even dating anyone at all?”

“Maybe,” Becca says. “Did she tell you his name?”