Page 159 of Lose You Twice

For a second, she focuses her attention on her hands, spinning one of her rings around her finger. “Yeah,” she says. “I am.”

I sit up a little. “Really?”

She gives me a look. “Why do you sound shocked by that?”

“I’m not shocked. You two just seem so solid, even if it is newer.”

“We are solid,” she says with a shrug. “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to miss him.”

She leans back on her hands beside me. “It’s confusing. I’m proud of him. I want him to go do everything he’s worked for. I don’t want to be the girlfriend who makes him feel bad for having a future, but then I think about him not being here after practice,” she continues. “Me not being able to go to his games often, or him not coming over because he ‘forgot his charger,’ even though he has two and purposefully keeps one in my room now.”

“He is not subtle.”

“He’s awful at it.” She smiles softly, then lets it fade. “I’m going to miss the little stuff. That’s what makes me nervous. Not whether he loves me.”

“You know he does.”

“Yeah.” She looks at me. “I do.”

There’s no bragging in her tone, just certainty. I love that for her, but I envy it a little too.

I wish I could have that confidence, but watching my own parents’ marriage fall apart simply because my dad decided he wanted a few nights with another woman altered my ability to see love as nothing other than unrequited loyalty.

Right now, I see it as working toward a future with someone you love, who you think loves you just as much, only for them to pull the rug out from under you decades later, calling your entire relationship a mistake.

Harlow looks back across the quad. “But knowing someone loves you doesn’t make distance any easier.”

“No,” I say quietly. “I guess it doesn’t.”

Harlow turns her head slowly. “Are you nervous about Kai leaving?”

My stomach dips because I am. The last time we fell apart, distance wasn’t even an issue yet. The crack was already there, and him moving to college simply added even more separation.

I look down at my hands. My nail polish is chipped from the week, and I fight the urge to pick at it more. “I’m trying not to think about it,” I admit.

“That sounds very healthy.”

“I know.” I rub at a spot of dirt on my thumb. “I know he’s leaving. I know it’s part of the whole thing. It’s not like he surprised me with an NHL contract after I walked into the locker room and saw his ass.”

Harlow wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, definitely didn’t need to know about that.”

“Sorry.”

“Not sorry enough.”

I almost smile, but it fades quickly.

“I’m happy for him,” I say. “I am. He’s wanted this forever. He deserves it. He’s worked his ass off for it.”

“And?”

“And I don’t want to be sad about something good happening to him.”

“That’s not the same as being sad he’s leaving.”

I hate how easily she says it.

Like the distinction is simple.