Page 108 of Within These County Lines

“We both had a lot going on.” Her voice cracks. “I was in a terrible mood when you came over that day and lashed out. I regret what I said.”

“Don’t. You were right.”

“Definitely on a few points.” She sniffs. “But I am sorry for what I said about Xander.”

“How come?”

“Because I should’ve trusted you too.” She clears her throat. “Do you know why I didn’t ask a million questions about you and Murray when you first told me you broke up? Even though I really, really wanted to?”

I swallow. “Why?”

“Because you didn’t tell me you were thinking about breaking up. You didn’t ask me what I thought. You just told me it was done. And I knew that meant you were sure.”

I nod even though she can’t see me.

“And after my grandma died and I told you I didn’t want to move in with my dad in Pittsburgh, you were the only one who didn’t second-guess me. Instead, you helped me change the locks so he couldn’t make a surprise visit to drag me there.”

I chuckle.

“We’ve always been so sure of ourselves.”

“I guess.”

“Stetson, you are the bravest, most intense person. You came out in tenth grade in Penango of all places. You like math like a weirdo and you’re not ashamed of it. You got a crush on a boy, fell in love with him, and then fell out of love. Now you like another boy who might be make-believe.”

“Okay, you’re being corny.”

“Only honest.” She inhales. “Xander means a lot to you. And I shouldn’t have doubted. I might’ve just been jealous.”

I shake my head. “You’ll always be the mountain to my field.”

“Who’s corny now?”

I smile. “So, where are you actually driving to? I hope it’s not to Florida. Because I made an itinerary for our road trip and want to show you.”

“Wow, so this isn’t an empty apology? I’m driving to Main Street to set up my clarinet for a performance during our lunch break. This is a big moneymaking day.”

“Can I come by and see you?”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I miss you.”

Silence falls over our conversation like a cloud blocking the sun.

“Whitley?” I ask. “Whitley, are you there?”

“I’m here.”

“Can I visit?” My breath catches.

“Yes.”

I exhale.

“But only if you apologize again.”

I laugh. “I’m so, so sorry. It will never happen again.”