Page 123 of Within These County Lines

“Hot. Brutal.” He scans me from head to toe. “You look different.”

I smirk. “I look the same.”

He glances over his shoulder. “Do you have time for a walk?”

I frown. “I can’t. I just wanted to stop by before leaving for college.”

His fingers clamp tighter around the helmet at his side.

“Look,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry for how everything went down between us. After graduation. But even before that too.”

I keep my face neutral. “I appreciate that.”

His jaw tightens. “I’m sorry for not being what you needed.” He looks to the ground, shaking his head. “For not saying the right things. Or doing the right things. For pushing you.” His voice cracks. “I don’t know.”

The late summer air thickens between us.

There’s so much I could say. I could tell him how much he hurt me, how confused I’ve been all year, how I spent my summer nights going over our conversations like a record stuck on repeat. But there’s also so much I’ve already let go. Standing here now, it all seems different, like a memory that doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

“You tried,” I say finally. “You just weren’t ready.” His eyes flick back to mine. “And you weren’t supposed to be.”

He shifts on his feet. “All summer during practice, I kept looking for you in the bleachers here. I thought maybe, one day, you’d show up. Just like before.” I stare at the sweat beading across his forehead. “I wish I could remember the last time I saw you up there. You always looked so cute.” A shaky smile tugs at his cheek.

I know the exact Friday night he stopped looking for me. If only it had mattered to him then as much as it does now.

“I miss you,” he admits. “You were my best friend.” A lone tear slips down his cheek. He reaches out to me but quickly snaps his hands back to his sides.

My heart skips a beat.

“I miss what we had,” I say, and I mean it. He was part of my story. The chapter that led me to Xander. How can I not be grateful for that?

“I understand.” He nods, exhaling hard, then wipes his nose with his forearm. “So, we’re good?”

“Yeah, Murray. We can be good.” I drop my arm, and the sun burns my nose. “We’re not the same people we were when we were sophomores.”

“I wish we were,” he says. “I’d do anything to go back to sophomore year.”

I could tell Murray that’s the last thing I’d ever want, to go back in time and relive high school, but I’ll give him the past, now that I have my future.

“Have a good football season,” I say instead, retreating.

“Thanks.” His voice is quieter now. He clears his throat. “Have fun in Tennessee. I’m glad you made it.”

I pause, letting my brow furrow. “Are you actually?”

But my words get lost to the air between us. He’s already walking away, still avoiding the questions that scare him most.

In the silence that follows, all mine are answered.

50

Next week, the sky is as blue as a brand-new pool.

Whitley finishes packing the last of her things into my truck bed while Bennie, injected with a fresh rabies booster vaccine and finally able to move at a near-normal pace, sniffs through the boxes.

“Is that everything?” I ask.

Whitley nods, then slams the hatch closed. “Whatever we don’t have, we can buy on the road.”