Page 125 of Within These County Lines

I swallow hard. “I’ll need more than one.”

Xander grins. “If you insist.”

We take a dozen more photos, all while making silly faces, sticking out our tongues, throwing up peace signs, and landing more stolen kisses.

“Guys, it’s cute,” Whitley says from the truck. “But I’d like to get on the road before dark.”

Xander laughs. “Sorry, Whitley! One more thing.”

She sighs.

“More?” I ask.

He reaches for the shark-tooth chain around his neck and unhooks it. “I want to give this to you.” He dangles it between us. “So you can have something of mine. It’s not much, but I wore it all summer, when it was just the two of us, when time stood still.”

I take it from him, my fingers shaking. “It’s everything.” I fasten it around my neck. It falls against my chest, warm, like the weight of one of his tightest hugs.

“It suits you,” he says softly.

A small, closed-lip smile spreads across my face. I take in his fire-emblem eyes one last time. He winks before lifting his sunglasses back onto the bridge of his nose, then blows me a kiss.

“Watch the truck, Xander!” Maggie calls from the yard as Whitley starts the engine.

“I’m about to run y’all over just to wrap up this goodbye party!” she shouts from the passenger seat.

Maggie tugs Xander back toward the grass.

I climb into my truck. The engine rumbles beneath me. As I begin the long drive to Tennessee, I glance in the rearview mirror one last time.

Mom, Dad, and Xander don’t stop waving, even as Whitley and I descend the hill and disappear.

I never thought I’d look back when I left. But just like Penango’s mountains are ever present and unchanging, I know my friends and family will be too.

EPILOGUE

I won the Keystone Rural Youth Mathematician scholarship on the second day of our road trip.

For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt pure relief.

When I got into college, I had to figure out which choice would disappoint my parents the least. Once I broke up with Murray, every conversation afterward felt like a never-ending sad song trying to define what we were. After I enrolled at the University of Tennessee, I had to wait for financial aid, unsure if I could even afford to go.

There was always something else to do, another hurdle to moving on.

But not with the scholarship. The money was mine. No conditions. The weight was gone.

As the fall semester in Tennessee wrapped up, my anticipation turned toward the day I could drive back down Main Street again with Xander and Whitley by my side. It was like waiting for the leaves to change color: knowing it was coming, but unable to do anything to make it happen faster.

Now, I pull into the hardware store’s parking lot as the first snow of December begins to fall, soft and steady, from the night sky. I left Penango when the trees were green and lush from the summer heat, and now I’ve returned to find them brittle and dead, stripped bare by the cold. And yet, here I am, after so much life has happened.

I’m home from Tennessee a day early. My favorite person doesn’t finish their shift until eight p.m., but I don’t have the patience to wait a few more hours just to hug them.

Inside, I’m greeted by inflatable snowmen, glowing plastic reindeer, and the sharp scent of sawdust and metal. “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” plays from the speakers. A quick scan of the registers doesn’t reveal who I’m looking for. Neither does the paint area.

The long aisles and towering shelves remind me of the endless days I spent searching the woods of the Gregor Preserve last summer.

Then the garden center doors slide open, sending a swirl of flurries around my head.

And there they are.