I yank the cap from my head and toss it on the dashboard, then drag my fingers through my hair. How do I start explaining to him about the connection I feel when it comes to Grace? Would he understand, despite his past experience with the Catholic Church? I’d promised to be the change. And what does that make me? Admittedly, I was thirteen, and I didn’t understand that I could ever feel what I feel for someone, anyone, as I feel for Grace.
But I have to try.
“Can I say something?”
He continues to stare ahead without acknowledging me, his arms crossed on his chest and one leg bouncing,
I forge ahead. “I never make a promise I can’t keep. Despite what you saw back there, I’m still pursuing this path.”
His gaze cuts to me, still doubtful. “What about her?”
“I like her very much,” I admit. “But that’s it.”
A lump forms in my throat. I swallow the lie, forcing it down until it settles in my gut, heavy and nauseating.
He looks out the window. I choose to stay silent and give him time to think about what I just said as I continue to drive.
By the time I drop Seth outside his building, he seems calmer. I’m about to drive off when he taps the window on the passenger side. I lean over and roll down the window.
He clears this throat, his eyes averted to the space above my shoulder. “Uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go psycho on you.”
“Warn me next time, man.” I chuckle, despite the brick in my stomach.
He laughs. “Sure thing.”
“So, are you two, like, together or something?” Levi asks.
I blink twice, then take a deep breath to keep my shit together. I drag my gaze from the door as it closes behind Sol and face Levi. He studies me with curious chocolate-brown eyes.
“It’s complicated,” I mutter, reaching for my glass of water and gulping down its contents.
“Isn’t he like—”
I set the now-empty glass on the table and face him again, a ball of irritation burning in my chest. “How is this any of your business?”
He blinks several times, obviously taken aback by my snappish tone, and says, “I was just wondering—”
“Well, stop, okay?” I turn my attention to the stage just as Ivan and MJ finish singing the song “Alone.” “You don’t hear me asking about your girlfriend or whatever.”
He averts his gaze to the couple now heading in our direction and scratches his head, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “We’re on a break.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I see. So you decided to put a four-hour drive between you two?”
Those soulful eyes return to me. With his shaggy dirty blond hair and that look on his face, he reminds me of a tortured artist. “Something like that.”
MJ plops on the chair next to me and throws her arms around me in a tight hug. “I’m so high on singing.” She glances around and frowns. “Where did Sol and Seth go?”
“They left. You guys were amazing!” I gush, hoping to steer her away from her question. Subtly, my gaze darts to the clock on the wall where the coffee-making machines are located, wanting nothing more than to go home and wallow in misery.
I should ignore the pain burning worse than heartburn in my chest, but Seth’s words keep replaying in my head and the look on Sol’s face haunts me.
“Maybe you and Levi should sign up to sing.”
I shake my head, give her a quick hug, and stand up. “I think I’ll head out, too.”
She searches my face, understanding dawning in her eyes. “Call me later?”
“Sure, yeah.” I smile and grab my purse. After waving goodbye, I leave Fisher’s Gold and head to the spot I parked my car. Inhaling deeply, I breathe out frustration and chaos to clear my head. To be honest, I don’t think I have enough strength to dwell on any thoughts of Sol.
I scroll through my phone and tap Adrenaline playlist on the screen, then hit play. Thoughts of Sol and Seth are pushed in the back of my mind as “Shut Up And Drive” by Rihanna blasts through the car speakers.
I know the time is coming when I’ll have to be strong enough to let go of Sol. I need to prepare my reckless heart, and I need to do it soon.
After that day Sol and I kissed in the confessional, followed by him showing up with Seth at Fisher’s Gold, we haven’t really talked again. I left a few minutes after he stalked out of the coffee shop, despite MJ, Ivan, and Levi protesting. I have no idea what’s going on with Sol. Every time I hold the phone in my hand ready to call him, I set it back on the table, choosing to give him time to sort himself out. Like I said at Old Orchard on the Fourth of July, spending less time together might help. Not being able to talk to him or see him hurts like a bitch, but if it makes things easier, then I’m staying away.
On Saturday morning, I walk into the kitchen dressed in my sleeping shorts and a T-shirt to find my mom leaning on the counter. Her favorite mug full of steaming coffee is on the counter in front of her, clutched in her tight grip. Beverly usually opens the diner on Saturday, which means Mom will be closing later.
Mom jolts upright when she sees me, her hands knocking over the mug.
“Shit,” she mutters, turning around and grabbing some paper towels from the roll next to the sink.
I watch as she cleans up the mess, noticing how her hands tremble.
“Morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?” she greets belatedly, tossing a smile over her shoulder at me, but instead of her usual genuine happy smile, it looks strained.
It’s obvious she’s trying hard to look cheerful but failing miserably.
“Yes.” I lean against the laminated counter, fold my arms over my chest, and watch her, wishing I could read her. “Mom, you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”
Her body visibly tenses. When she doesn’t answer me after several seconds, I step closer and rest my hand on her shoulder.
“You’d tell me, right?” I repeat, my stomach churning with worry. I’ve never seen her so unnerved.
“I need to talk to you about something.”
“Sure.” Trepidation forms a lump in my throat as I follow her into the living room.
I sit on the edge of the brown couch and fold my hands in my lap to stop them from shaking. I don’t know why I’m shaking, but her tone worries me.
Mom steps in front of me and lowers her small frame to the coffee table, then reaches forward and takes my hands in hers. I can’t stop looking at our joined hands, marveling at how much hers have worked tirelessly to provide me—us—with food and safety. Gratitude spreads through me, warming my chest as I raise my eyes to meet hers, and her tired, wet eyes soften.
“I love you so much. You’re a miracle, Gracie. My miracle.”
Tears burn the corners of my eyes, terrified of what she’s about to say. “You’re scaring me, Mom.”
Was I right last night? Is she sick? Oh my God. Is she dying? How would I survive without her?
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always feared being abandoned. Some nights I’d wake up from a nightmare screaming and scrambling out of bed in a panic. I’d dash into the living room where my mom slept on the pull-out couch worried she, too, had left me like my father had left us. I was convinced the feeling would eventually go away when I grew up, but I guess I was wrong.