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Maybe they knew I’d wake up with this feeling. The realization that I’ve let something precious slip through my fingers … something called Skylar.
Something I need to get back.
19
I grip the bar over my head, focused with mad concentration on where the train heads.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
I glance at Connor, hanging on to the bar next to me. “I have no other choice.”
“He isn’t answering your calls or texts?”
“None. I tried all morning. And I know he’d be awake by now, so I think he’s ignoring me.”
Connor yawns, then rubs his eyes. “I still wish we’d gotten breakfast before we left. After a night like last night, I could devour four plates of eggs.” He glances back at me. “Are you sure the address is right? We’re way past Uptown now. I would’ve gotten off four stops ago to get to Alan’s.”
“Yeah, I know where we’re going,” I assure my roommate, then nod ahead with purpose. “Straight into my future, that’s where.”
Connor makes a face. “Hmm, ‘kay. That’s nice and everything, but I was meaning more literally.”
It’s three more stops later that we finally get off the train and climb up to the streets. Connor and I wade through the busy Sunday morning traffic up a few blocks, then cross the short bridge separating the west side from the east. Connor remarks about how beautiful the sun looks over the skinny river, scattering its warm golden rays across the water in strips and shards. I give it a look, but find myself too taken with a different beauty to even appreciate the sight for longer than two seconds.
Skylar’s beauty outmatches a hundred sunrises.
I know. I’m so gross in love, right?
We reach the other side of the bridge in twelve long minutes, and after cutting hurriedly across a busy avenue lined with vivid green trees preened to perfection, we arrive at last at the front door of a sightly and well-kept townhouse.
“We could’ve taken an Uber,” Connor points out, “and saved ourselves an hour of walking.”
“Extra cardio,” I throw at him.
“Goodness, look at you.” Connor observes me. “You can’t wipe the smile off that face of yours.”
I take a breath, staring ahead at the door. “I’m happy. I’m where I’m supposed to be.”
“So why aren’t we moving?”
I swallow hard. “Because … I’m nervous, too. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if he’s moved on already? What if he doesn’t want me back and I’m just being a total idiot?”
“Then he’d be a fool.” Connor slaps me on the back and gives it a rub. “Now let’s not forget all of that confidence you had in you before we left the apartment. Y’know, the same confidence that pulled me out of my bed two hours before my alarm clock and halfway across the city on a Sunday morning.”
“Don’t worry. We can go to church after this.”
“You probably could use a little bit of Jesus after last night.”
I finally make my feet work, pushing myself from my spot on the pavement in which my shoes had taken root. Each step up the short walkway is an effort.
Then I’m standing in front of the door. I take one breath in, then let it all out. I curl my fingers into a little fist and give the door three light taps.
It opens. Lena appears, a dumbfounded look on her face. “Brett …?”
“Hi!” I greet her too cheerily. Then I amend my tone to something far more honest—which is apparently somber and pained. “Hi.”
She leans a bit to the left to peer around me. Connor gives a diminutive wave from the sidewalk where he waits.
“Moral support,” I explain unnecessarily.
Lena lets out a breath, then leans against the doorframe and crosses her arms. “I could take one very unwild guess why you’re here.”
“You’d probably guess right. Heh.”
“I probably would,” she agrees flatly.
I realize I’m wringing my hands. I drop them to my sides. “I really need to talk to him. He isn’t answering his phone. He won’t return my texts.”
“And you actually came all the way here to ask me about my brother?”
“All the way here.” I’m wringing my hands yet again. I stuff them into my pockets, turning all my fingers into prisoners. “Got your addy from a form thing my DJ guy had to sign. Hope that’s okay.”
Lena puts on a tired smile. “I always liked you. I don’t know why, but I did. You’re a goof. You’re a mess. And you’re exactly what my brother needs. But I’m not the one you need to win over.”
I nod. “Can you get him to talk to me? I’m … I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I’ll get a car and drive all the way out to him … wherever he lives. I can’t let him slip away, and what we had. He’s my guy. He always has been. He’s …” I catch myself choked up, overcome with how deeply I feel right now for him—and how much I realize is at stake. “He’s the only person on Earth who makes me whole.”
