“With what?” he asks innocently.
“Dunno. Rat poison. Bleach. Heavy drugs?”
“I searched the house high and low for poison, but looks like we’re all out,” he says, deadpan.
Poison or not, I’m too hungry to care. I take another giant forkful, contemplating whether I should tell him about the cheesy （pun intended） Valentine’s Day card he gave me. “This is . . .”
He gives me his cocksure grin and watches me devour it. “Told you I can make a mean mac ’n’ cheese.”
“How do you even know I was going to compliment it? What if I was about to say it was disgusting?”
“You practically moaned when you took that first bite. I knew you liked it.” The tips of his ears are pink.
My body erupts in prickles of heat. I chalk it up to my piping-hot meal, flannel pajamas, and thick duvet. “Well, it’s good. Really good,” I admit. If he did sneak in poison, at least I’ll die satisfied.
“Consider it my peace offering.”
“Peace offering?”
He nods. “I’m sorry about tonight. I lost my patience. I was just . . . really disappointed the school doors were locked and—”
“Me too. I appreciate the food. You didn’t have to bring me any. I was being . . . extra.”
“My dad always made my mom food when she was mad at him,” he tells me. In all the chaos over Kassie, I forgot Renner’s pain over seeing his mom with someone new. Our eyes lock in a moment of mutual understanding.
“Really?”
“Yup. Dad doesn’t like to go to bed angry. Always tries, or at least tried, to make up with her before they went to sleep.” His face falls. “Not that it did him any good, I guess . . .”
“I’m sorry,” is all I can think to say.
“Kinda hard to be mad when they’re in a better place now.”
“Your feelings are still valid, Renner. This morning, when I found out my dad was having a baby—” I stop myself. Technically it wasn’t this morning. “This is so weird. Anyway, I knew I should be happy for him. And I still felt . . . sad? I knew it was selfish. But I think it’s still fair to let yourself have your feels for a little while. You only just found out.”
“Thanks, Char.” He pauses, lips twitching in a devious smile. “Hey, we just got through our first fight.”
I level him with a look. “Our first fight? Try our millionth fight.”
“True. But our first fight as a couple,” he points out.
“Well, hopefully it’ll be our last.”
He turns toward the doorway. “Let’s hope. I’ll let you get some sleep. Night, fiancée.”
“We’re not a couple,” I remind him. “We’re trauma bonded.”
He dips his chin in agreement. “Fair.”
“Have a good sleep. We need to be well rested for tomorrow,” I advise.
“What’s tomorrow?”
“The day we go back to 2024,” I say with faux confidence. “We’re gonna work together and get back to our normal lives. Whatever it takes.”
“Deal. Operation Back to Seventeen commences.”
EIGHTEEN
So . . . are you, uh, gonna climb up?” Renner’s baritone voice echoes around the gym.
We got here bright and early before any of the prom decorators arrived to do finishing touches, thanking our lucky stars the doors were unlocked.
“When I get to the top, I just . . . jump off?” I ask, white-knuckling the ladder, hands shaking.
“Yeah, exactly like last time. No big deal.” He’s trying his best to sound casual, like hurling one’s self from the top of a ladder is a perfectly normal thing to do. But by the tightness of his jaw, I can tell he’s nervous too.
We’ve propped the ladder against the same wall, in the same position, slightly to the right of the basketball net. Though it somehow looks higher than before. But I suppose from the view of someone who may be about to plunge to their death, the perspective changes.
Renner gestures to the ladder, stepping forward to stabilize it. I’m hesitant until his chest inadvertently grazes my back, which sets me off like a “Go” button.
When I reach the top, my stomach lurches. I train my eyes to the mats we set up around the ladder, just in case. Not that they’ll do much to break my fall if this doesn’t work.
If this doesn’t work. I wince. The possibility is too depressing to comprehend. Mind you, we probably should have more than one viable plan for Operation Back to Seventeen. At least a measly backup plan. But we haven’t quite gotten there yet.