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“And I take it things are over?”
I clear the sudden lump in my throat. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, she hasn’t been the same the past few weeks. She used to come into class every day and sayGreetings, Wilma, and now—” He breaks off on a sigh. “Now she just looks sad.”
I stare out the windshield, my heart in my stomach. “She does?”
“Yep,” Billy says. “Kind of like you right now.”
43
Holden
I’d almost forgottenwhat it was like to have both my parents in the same room. When I flew home a couple of weeks ago, I spent most of the time by Mia’s hospital bed. Now, it’s Thanksgiving, and everyone is here except the one person I wish was.
Mom floats around, making sure everyone is happy, and Dad does everything he can to ensure that his girlfriend, Maggie, doesn’t feel out of place. The three of them spend the day cracking jokes at each other’s expense, teasing to the point of tormenting, making everyone laugh around them, even Esme—who seems to have found new friends in my grandparents.
And me? I barely leave Mia’s side.
Surprisingly, it didn’t take a lot of convincing to get her here. All I had to do was ask. She and her dad flew from New York in a chartered private plane because that’s who her dad is at his core—someone who throws money around to create false happiness. Luckily for me, he’s staying in some lavish hotel because there was no fucking way I was letting him set foot in my house.
I knock softly on my bedroom door, where Mia is “resting,” and when no response comes, I quietly open the door. She’s curled into a ball on my bed, her eyes closed. I tiptoe across the room for my phone on the nightstand. As soon as it’s in my hand, she says, “Expecting a booty call?”
I shake my head, looking down at her. “I didn’t want it to wake you if it went off, you brat. Andno. No booty call.” I sigh. “I’m shelving that guy for a little while.”
She sits up, her long, dark hair knotted on one side.
I ask, “Did I wake you?”
“Nah,” she says. “I just needed to lie down for a bit. No one ever told me that pregnancy was exhausting. I always assumed it all went to hell after the baby was born, but damn. I can’t make it through the day without a nap, and I’m only five months in.”
I nod, not knowing how else to respond. “Well, I’ll let you get some rest,” I say, moving to the door.
“Holden?” she calls, halting me to my spot. She says my name the same way my mother does: One word. Two syllables. A million different meanings.
I turn to her, already nervous about what’s to come.
“You want to tell me why you have a bunch of pamphlets for colleges in New York on your desk?”
My shoulders drop, and I heave out a breath. “Are you going back to sleep?”
Her eyes narrow. “Are you deflecting?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I want to show you something. Come on.”
Mia gasps,her hand to her mouth as we stand in front of the tire swing in my back yard. I’d put it up the moment she told me she was coming. It’s similar to the one we had in her front yard back home, the one we used to play in for hours when we were kids. She pouts when she looks up at me, those big brown eyes of hers blinking back tears. “Don’t cry,” I warn. “You know I can’t stand it.”
She rolls her eyes. “I won’t.”
I bend down to pick up two rocks and hand one to her, then help her sit. She’s in a loose shirt and jeans, so I can’t tell if her belly’s grown since I’d seen her last, but I don’t want to take any risks.
Without hesitation, she uses the rock to scratch into the tire—a single vertical line, followed by another. Back home, you can find our names scratched into almost every surface in numerous places.
Holden + Mia.
She’d always write my name, and I’d always write hers, and that’s just the way it’d always been.
Holden + Mia.
