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“Whatever’s going on, you tried your best to help,” Paulette adds. “You’ve done literally all you can do. No one can fault you for letting it go now.” She reaches her hand across the table to take mine and squeezes it.
I take a bite of my toast, which is stupidly delicious for just being a piece of bread. “Thanks, guys. I’m sorry I’ve messed everything up this weekend.”
“You didn’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t say that.”
“You didn’t mess anything up.”
“Lena…”
Everyone is quick to jump to my aid, to assure me I haven’t messed anything up, which only makes me feel guiltier—as if this is all a pity party I’ve asked for.
I set the toast down and dust the crumbs from my fingers. “Okay, let’s enjoy this last day, yeah? After breakfast, I say we get some pictures together, and then we can listen to some more of the audiobook Logan borrowed and make another dinner together.”
Mara takes my hand. “The last dinner,” she says somewhat nostalgically.
“At least this time,” Austin agrees. “But we’re totally doing this again.”
* * *
After breakfast, we all get dressed and grab some books to head out farther on the property and get a few photos in the woods. The blue SUV from earlier has disappeared from the driveway next door, and I can’t help wondering where they might’ve gone.
“You good?” Memphis asks, walking into my line of vision as we cross the yard. I hadn’t realized I’d stopped to stare at the house until I notice that he’s leaving me.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” My voice sounds as tired as I feel.
He looks as if he doesn’t believe me but doesn’t bother pressing the issue. “Listen, about earlier—”
“You don’t have to say anything. I promise I’m letting it go.”
“I was talking about when we were in the house,” he says, bumping my hand with his.
“Oh.”
“I just…I want you to know that I’m here, you know,” he says eventually. “And not just because I have… Not just because I… Not for any particular reason other than because I want you to be okay.”
I glance up at him, squinting in the sun. “Because you’re madly in love with me and ridiculously attracted to me?” I tease, brushing his hip with mine. When I do, he stops walking, takes hold of my hip, his hand pressed against my back, and spins me around to face him, the look on his face as shocked as I feel. “What are you doing?”
He lets out a breath. “I have no idea.”
For a moment, we just stand there, bodies pressed together, eyes dancing between each other’s and our lips.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he says softly.
“What are you trying to do?”
He opens his mouth to answer, but before he can say anything, the sound of tires on the gravel road behind us causes everyone to freeze. Memphis releases me, and I pull away. When I turn around to see where the sound has come from, something cold grips my organs.
The familiar black sedan pulls into the driveway, and I know—I just know—he’s back.
“Lena,” Memphis whispers.
“I know.”
It takes several minutes for anything to happen. For a while, the car just idles, and I hold my breath. Then, it shuts off. The headlights go out, and the driver’s door opens.
