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“I assumed you’d say that, so I made the decision easier. Out of sight, out of mind.”
I took in all of what he was saying and not saying. “You convinced yourself you were protecting me by breaking things off and warping out.”
“I did sort-of warp speed out, huh?” A pained expression crossed his features. “I hated knowing I’d hurt you, but I figured you’d get over me soon enough. I couldn’t live with myself if I held you back. In any way.”
The emotional side of me nearly yelped, “You dummy! I loved you!” But I was a fully mature adult now. Totally and fully mature.
I lightly shoved him. “I can’t believe you thought all those things and never told me. You decided for me. You decided for us.”
“My only thought at the time was for you to live your best life. I didn’t know how to make that happen.” He threw his hands up. “I’m sorry.”
Okay, emotions. Get grounded here. I supposed it made sense if I examined the situation with unbiased objectivity. But who could manage that? I was human, not an experiment. “You haven’t been easy to get over. I might even say I’ve only ever put you aside. You’re always kind of…lingering.”
His gaze remained steady on me. “I’ve never gotten over you, Jillian. I stayed away so I wouldn’t hurt you more. It’s why I never came to you to talk about it.”
At this point, who was to say what would have been the best way to handle things? Sure, the break-up could have been better, but I couldn’t imagine any break-up being great. If he’d gone ahead and started college with me, he would have been miserable and internally tortured by squandering his parents’ money. I might have spent my weekends commuting home to see him instead of making new friends. Even though I was a miserable friend those first few months.
Changing the past would never happen. We only had now.
“Thank you for telling me,” I said. “I wish things had worked out differently then, but here we are.”
He nodded. “Here we are. Ten years later. We’re different people.”
“Are we?”
“I’m a lot more sure about things than I used to be.”
Rapid-fire bursts streaked the sky as the fireworks show gave everything it had to its finale. I held tight to Adam’s hand and lived in the moment.
I lost the battle of the beds and ended up in Adam’s room while he took the couch. This was the best course of action after our kiss. An entire floor between us to give us each some space to think.
The room itself was mostly empty as his parents had removed their personal belongings in preparation of the house sale. Only the bed, a nightstand, and Adam’s open suitcase on the floor. A few of his clothes hanging in the closet.
Curling up beneath the covers, I ordered my body to relax.
I replayed the kiss again and again. I loved how he went for it, but only after I practically shoved my face into his. Nothing felt hasty or potentially regretful about the kiss. I didn’t want to regret anything with Adam.
I rolled over and attempted to silence my thoughts. A scratching sound came from…somewhere. I shot up to sitting. The bat? I couldn’t tell where the sound came from. I laid back down.
Scritch scritch
I propped myself up on my elbow.
A car vroomed in the distance. Then, quiet again.
Scritch scritch scritch.
Another bat? Was there a bat in this room?
I flew out of bed, hurled open the door and ran for the stairs making a bona fide racket.
“What’s wrong?” Adam stood in the middle of the living room, hair a mess, plain white T-shirt crumpled, glasses askew.
Wait. “You wear glasses?”
He straightened the frames. “When I’m not wearing contacts, yeah. What’s going on?”
I liked him in glasses. These were light tortoiseshell and gave him a distinguished look. “Um, I heard noises. Scratching sounds.”
