Page 45 of Within These County Lines

“Sorry. I’ve never left the country.”

“Really?” He props his hand behind his head. “Well, then I have a lot to tell you.” He taps his chin, thinking. “Let’s see . . . Europe, Europe . . . Oh! One of my favorite places in Europe is Mont-Saint-Michel.”

I frown. “I never heard of it.”

“It’s this castle in France that’s built on a floating island. At low tide, you can reach it by land, but at high tide it’s surrounded by water.”

“That doesn’t even sound real.”

“You’d be surprised what’s out there.” He scooches closer to me. “Where do you want to go?”

The answer is instant. “Tennessee.”

He smiles. “I like your confidence. What’s in Tennessee?”

“College . . . hopefully.”

His expression faulters.

“It would be in August,” I clarify. “If I leave.”

Xander doesn’t say anything. He just closes his eyes and lets the rainwater wash over his face.

“I want to figure this . . . us . . . out first before I go. Don’t worry.”

We didn’t solve anything today. But there are still two months left to try. I’m glad Whitley rejected my plan to leave town sooner. I need this time with Xander. And I think he needs me too. I can’t imagine leaving him alone here.

“Why do you come back to Penango?” I ask. “When you could be anywhere.”

“I always thought if something was going to change with my situation, it’d be here.” He licks water from his lips. “And it turns out I was right.”

I stare at the leaves, trying to decipher a code within their veins.

“Did you like meeting my mom?” he asks, eyes still closed.

My breath catches. “How did you know I met her?”

“I heard Sheryl and Kim talking about her visit earlier.”

“She was nice. She really likes what they’re doing with the pool.” I pause. “Why weren’t you there?”

“I left once she arrived.”

“You didn’t want to see her?”

“No.”

“Oh.” I hesitate. “Why . . . why not?”

His throat bobs. “When strangers can’t see you, it’s weird. But when your mom can’t see you?” He exhales, shaking his head. “It’s heartbreaking.”

The heavy words settle between us.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Don’t be.”

He rolls onto his side, finally opening his eyes. His hands tuck under his cheek and his shoulder sinks into the soft dirt.