Love You More(12)

“Well, thank you for telling me,” I said finally, my voice steadier than I felt. “But you’re right. It is too late.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you all of that. It’s not fair. Can we just forget I said anything?”

“It’s forgotten,” I said.





Chapter 6


No matter how hard I tried, Mick’s voice stayed in my head. His words played on a loop until I felt like I was betraying Paul. Every time he reached for my hand, my chest felt hollow, like I was pretending. I knew I had to end things.

One Friday after school, we walked to the parking lot together. It finally felt like spring, the late April air carrying the earthy scent of thawing soil.

My stomach turning, I asked if we could go somewhere and talk.

He stopped, looked at me, and leaned against his car. “Let’s talk here,” he said.

Sadness clouded his eyes, like he knew what was coming.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to say the words I’d been dreading. “I think we should break up.”

“Why?” he whispered.

“It’s just…it feels inevitable…once we go off to college…I thought it might be easier to do it now.”

He looked at me, like he already knew there was more to the story.

“Is this about Mick?” he asked quietly.

“Why would you ask that?”

He swallowed so hard I could see the lump in his throat. “You’ve been different—ever since he and Kristy broke up.”

I looked down at my scuffed boots, searching for a way out. “It’s mostly just about me,” I said, finally meeting his eyes.

It wasn’t a denial.

There was a long silence before he nodded and slipped off the woven bracelet I’d made him months ago, handing it back to me. I stared down at it, remembering how carefully I’d braided the string, how proud I’d been when he tied it on. I took it and slipped it into my back pocket.

We hugged—awkward at first, then tighter.

He finally pulled back, giving me one last look before getting in his car. As I watched him drive off the lot, my heart filled with guilt and relief.



* * *



— I drove straight to Erin’s, telling her everything, words and tears spilling out of me.

“I feel like a terrible person.” My voice cracked.

“You aren’t a terrible person,” she said firmly, giving me a long hug. Her sweater smelled of fabric softener, and I clung to her as if she were a life raft. As we separated, she brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. “You did the right thing. The only thing.”

“But Paul was so good to me.”

“Billie, you can’t stay with someone just because they’re good to you. You have to be true to your heart.”

I nodded, wiping my face on my sleeve, the ache in my chest a little less sharp. “Now what?”

Erin exhaled slowly. “Now you take a beat. Grieve the breakup. And when you’re ready…” A sly smile tugged at her lips. “You call Mick.”

My heart stuttered in my chest, half fear, half longing.

I could only nod.



* * *



—

After a couple weeks of avoiding both Mick and Paul, I decided it was time. I picked up my phone and dialed Mick’s number. Maeve answered. It had been a long time since I’d heard her voice, and it felt like confirmation that I was doing the right thing.

“Hi, Maeve,” I said. “It’s Billie.”

“Billie!” she shouted. “Are you at the candy store?”

I laughed. “No. I’m at my house. I wanted to talk to your brother. Is he there?”

She said yes, then screamed “Mickey” at the top of her lungs.

A few seconds later, he came on the line.

His hello sent a shiver straight through me.

“Hi,” I said, then blurted it out before I lost my nerve. “Can we meet up and talk?”

“Sure. When?” he asked, his voice edged with the same nerves I felt.

“Does this evening work? Around five?”

“Yeah. Where should we meet?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere private.”

He suggested the parking lot of his family’s orchard. Behind the barn.

“Perfect,” I said. “See you then.”



* * *



— When I pulled up at the end of the long gravel driveway, I spotted Mick’s truck. He was sitting on the tailgate, his baseball cap slung low. The sight of him there—waiting for me—made my pulse jump.

As I climbed out of my car, the syrupy scent of May apple blossoms rushed over me. I walked toward his truck, my heart thudding harder with every step.

“Hey,” he said when I got close.

“Hey,” I echoed, my gaze drifting to the trees, their petals glowing faintly in the dusky light.

He patted the tailgate beside him, and I climbed up, the steel cool against the backs of my thighs.

We settled into the moment before he spoke.

“So. I decided. I’m going to Madison.” He said it carefully, like he’d practiced it.

“That’s awesome. I’m glad to hear it.”